#but also i don't remember are they really related

[kinardsevan]

who am i (to know)?

had this drabble in my head for a hot second. enjoy. post-s8 shenanigans.

-

"I owe you an apology."

Tommy looks up from his coffee with wide eyes. Maddie is standing across the kitchen from him, her own fresh cup in her hands. She'd come out from getting baby Bobby down, having fallen asleep in the rocking chair in the nursery while he'd been left in the house with Jee-Yun when the girl had wrangled him into a very convoluted pretend play of princesses and dragons. Evan was outside with Howie, working on a landscaping project that Tommy was supposed to join him on before his attention had been taken over by Jee.

"You really don't," he tells her, glancing out into the other room. Jee had fallen asleep on him—literally—about ten minutes before Maddie had come out, and he'd been so heartened by the fact that he hadn't wanted to move her. Maddie had shifted her over once she came out and offered him coffee.

"I do, though, "she states, stirring a spoon inside her coffee cup to mix the flavored creamer in. Her indulgences with the drink aren't very different from Tommy's, always seeking the sweetness instead of the caffeine.

She takes a deep breath, sips rom her drink before setting it on the counter.

"I wasn't very nice to you during round one of your and Evan's relationship, much less during the…off season," she comments.

Tommy lets out the slightest chuckle, the corner of his mouth pulling up as he acquiesces a nod before taking a sip of his own coffee.

"I'll give you that one," he responds. "But he's your brother. And as I understand it, maybe even more than that, given the situation with your parents," he comments as he sets his own coffee on the counter and leans back against it, wrapping his fingers over the ledge.

Maddie nods. "I recognize that he's an adult, and that end of the day, we're siblings-.."

"But for all intents and purposes, he's still your baby in some contexts," Tommy finishes for her. Maddie nods at the statement.

He's never said much on the subject, but he's always seen the way that Maddie has looked at Evan when they were in group situations. He still remembers the way she had kept watch over him at her own wedding reception—both the impromptu one thrown at the hospital, and the one that Bobby and Athen had held for them weeks later when schedules finally lined up and they were able to do something small at their condo. Maddie had been cordial, at the very least, but she had always kept a watchful eye on him, always waiting for…something. She never commented on whatever it was that she was waiting to see take place, but it seemed obvious once the breakup took place—she was waiting on him to end things.

"The thing is, for as complex as Evan's trauma is, he doesn't know it the same way we do," Maddie states. Tommy inhales sharply, staring down into his coffee mug.

It's not that he's ever expected Evan to not tell other people about the things he's shared about his own life—he knows that keeping secrets isn't healthy, and it directly affected the downfall of their relationship in the first go around. It wasn't at all that Tommy didn't want Evan to know him, either, or that he didn't want to know Evan in deeper ways. But when they had finally taken the time to sit down and really talk about the dark stuff that they'd avoided during the first year, it was more than clear that the trauma they both held wasn't light or easy. He fully understood Evan's urge to cling with a life filled with abandonment, including an entire quarter of his life in which he didn't speak to a single member of his family—and none of them had bothered to reach out to him. Adding to that he fact that he was 29 before he knew about his dead brother, and the fact that his entire life existed because he'd been intended as a savior sibling—so much about the younger man had come into focus for Tommy. He had no problem assuming that the same could also be said for Evan in relation to him.

"I think he's got a bit of a better grasp on it now," Tommy answers, still staring down into his coffee cup. He can't actually be entirely sure that the younger man really does understand the urge to bolt, but in the face of Bobby's death, while he urged to cling and stay close, Tommy needed time alone to process. It wasn't even that he didn't appreciate the comfort of being with Evan—he very much so did—but in the same breadth, he had only ever known a life where processing loss came hand-in-hand with loneliness. He needed the silence to figure out his own thoughts. But it was also that need for separation—short as it may have been—that ultimately led to the fighting that brought them back together.

"I imagine he does," Maddie states softly. She stares at Tommy for a time, and when he looks back up at her, the expression on her face is one he's only ever seen in his direction as a young child. It's the way that his mom used to look at him before she died. A layer of emotions, usually some mixed level of both pride and annoyance, but always covered in love. It makes a wave of something unfamiliar rush through his chest.

Well, maybe not unfamiliar so much as so distantly memorable that it doesn't feel right at first.

"Anyway, my point was…" Maddie trails off after a moment, and Tommy glances over at her again. There's something familiar in their shared gaze, but whether her statement is too loaded to put into words, or she doesn't fully have a grasp on it, she's not sure. He lets out another soft breath of a chuckle and nods.

"You didn't think I was going to change my mind," he states, not questioning. "Come back."

"I wasn't entirely sure," she admits. "I just knew that I recognized something in you, and I didn't like it. It took me a while, when you came back around to really grasp what it was that I was ambivalent about, but when you showed up and helped with saving Howie, a-and stuck around for Evan…" She glances back down at her coffee, touching the cup anxiously while also trying to keep her emotions together. "Well, anyway, I've seen Evan's life be a revolving door, in the kind of way where people come and go. They don't really come back. And I knew he loved you, but I wasn't sure if you loved him. Before then, I mean."

"Figured I was just along for the good times with the hot sibling," Tommy comments, just a hint of his bitchy tone and a smile on his face. Maddie scoffs.

"He is not the hot sibling."

"He kind of is," Tommy answers with a slight tilt of his head, and then they're both laughing, and it feels good. It feels warm and safe, and he has just the slightest pang of anxiety about letting himself really sink into it. No matter how much Evan tells him that there isn't anyone else and he doesn't want someone else, the fear of letting himself believe in another future that he won't actually get is still terrifying.

"The important thing is that you believe that," Maddie states, still laughing a little. As she finishes talking, though, just a smile remains on her face, and Tommy knows she means it.

Tommy glances out toward the back patio as Evan and Howie work on moving a bag of mulch into large pots, and his expression softens.

"He still scares me, if I'm honest," he tells her. "I've put faith into relationships in the past that didn't work out, and that hurt. But falling in love with him, and then telling myself that I couldn't have him…" His eyes get that overly dry feeling as he feels the edge of them brim with moisture. He glances back over at Maddie briefly, and she has that look on her face again, and it makes his heart twist. His gaze falls to her hands wrapped around her coffee mug as he drags his teeth against themselves, bites the side of his cheek. "He feels like a home I haven't known since…and I couldn't let go of him the way I should have. S-so even though he tells me otherwise, I still wake up every day convinced just a little bit that he will actually destroy me."

Maddie sets her cup down and Tommy looks away, suddenly feeling as though he needs to pull himself together in the right way. He forces a breath out and pushes a smile across his face as she walks over to him, wraps her small hands around his bicep, leaning into his side a little. The height difference is a little ridiculous, but he finds he doesn't mind it.

"I think you've figured this out, but Evan loves big, and in grand gestures. He has a penchant for missteps and overcorrection, but he means only the best with all of it. And in the midst of all of that, I have never seen him love the way he loves you, even if it took him a while to piece all of that together."

Tommy glances down at Maddie, his gaze narrowed just slightly.

"You don't think he's going to change his mind one day?" He tries to make it sound like a joke, but the trembling in his voice gives him away, and Maddie squeezes his bicep.

"Believe me when I tell you, Evan doesn't see anyone else," Maddie tells him. "Also, if you tell him that I've told you this, I'll deny it because of how disgusted I was when he said it to begin with. But I have heard him make the statement that if it was humanly possible, he'd have your children." Maddie narrows her eyes at Tommy. "Truth be told, I wouldn't be surprised if he did a deep dive to see if it is possible."

Tommy blushes at her statement, lets out a laugh, and it makes Maddie laugh too. For a solid two minutes, they lean against each other and the counter, laughing until it hurts to keep doing so, at which point the patio doors open and Evan and Howie come walking in, pink and each covered in a sheen of sweat. The center of Evan's tank clings to his chest, and it makes Tommy feral just looking at him.

"Might have to do a google search of my own," he mutters toward Maddie. She slaps his arm and steps away as Evan and Howie both mutter some version of 'what?' Maddie walks over to her husband and wraps an arm around him, pulling him away as Evan approaches Tommy. The pilot watches his boyfriend as Evan drapes an arm over his shoulder, fingers grazing at his hairline as he smirks at him.

"You are so dirty right now," Tommy tells him. "And sweaty."

Evan nods. "We were going to shower. The master bedroom has its own. And besides, you like me all sweaty and worked up." He trails a finger down the center of Tommy's chest, slipping it in past the button the fastened button in the center of Tommy's chest. The pilot glances down at what he's doing, can't fight the smirk pulling on his face. Evan leans into him, tilts up toward his ear. "Shower with me."

"There are children here," Tommy murmurs back to him, glancing toward the hall. He hears the bedroom door shut down the hall, and Evan presses his heated, sweaty cheek into Tommy's. "And I didn't plan for this."

"I did," Evan whispers, turning his head more and biting down into the space below Tommy's ear as he leans closer to him. Tommy gulps. Evan's free hand slides down his torso before his fingers curl into the waist of the pilot's jeans. "I have clothes for you. Shower with me."

Tommy opens his mouth to respond, but Evan's fingers dip lower, and the pilot gasps as the tips of Evan's fingers brush against him.

"Quickie in the shower," he whispers, his throat tight with need. "Quiet like a mouse."

Evan grins against his neck, and he can feel it.

"Sure," he answers gruffly. When he pulls away, the grin is still plastered on his face as he tugs Tommy forward by the hand still in his jeans. "Bag's already in the bathroom."

Yeah. Tommy definitely needs to get on that Google search.

[luvseisagi]

— this one's for you.

read part 1 here.

ft. isagi yoichi x reader. wc. 4k

summary. it all started with breakfast, and now you're quite literally the main character of an american teen romcom movie —whats next, a goal dedicated to you? content. fem!reader, fem pronouns used, fluff, crack, slow burn ?? they don't end up dating like officialy but kinda ?? isagis parents are like . very present here. college students!au. reader realizes shes down bad. isagi plays for the uni team and looks very hot doing it. author's note. remember i said id post this soon. well. uni's got me again im SO sorry, but here it is!! idk ive been meaning to write this for a while now but im not sure if i like it at all now ?? i read it too much i guess, hope u do like it tho <3

𝜗𝜚 english isnt my first language, so any corrections or advice are highly appreciated, as well as feedback (please) !

fuck. you think to yourself, going up the stairs as fast as you can. fuck fuck fuck.

you nimbly and silently dodge the faded blue and yellowish-white seats, crouching slightly, trying not to disturb the crowd already settled in the stands, muttering “sorry, i’m sorry, excuse me" every time you step on someone's foot or have to ask them to stand up so you can pass.

you get a couple of judgmental glances and a few retorts, but nothing embarrasses you more than finally reaching the front row of the stands and approaching the only empty seat next to a couple who are staring at you intently.

isagi's parents.

you hurriedly sit down after the person on your other side clears their throat —you’re blocking their view.

"hello," you dare to whisper, tilting your head forward before making eye contact with them, as if that way they can ignore the red hue that's invaded your entire face. "i'm sorry i was late. i got mixed up with the subway and didn't leave home early enough."

that's not true. you've been fully prepared —makeup done and outfit on—, hours before you had to leave. however, ten minutes before you had to get off the subway, you’d looked in the mirror and decided your hair wasn't right, so you had pulled out the hair straightener and brush again. what was supposed to be a simple touch-up turned into a nearly half-hour hairstyling session in front of your bathroom mirror.

and all your effort only served to have the warm summer wind ruffle your hair as you stepped outside.

"yn, right?" isagi's mother —undoubtedly related to him, they have the same eyes— gives you a warm look that makes your heartbeat slow down a bit. "don't worry, the game's just starting, they’re late too.”

"nice to finally meet you, yn." isagi's father peeks out from behind his wife and waves in greeting, also flashing a smile that's exactly like his son's. "yoichi has told us a lot about you."

you reciprocate his gesture with another smile, and turn your head toward the field in front of you. you have a perfect view of all the players from the spot they've reserved for you —high above the field, but not so high that the teams look like simple colored dots on a green blanket. you assume the ones wearing blue are your university's team, since that’s the college’s official color.

isagi has told you about his teammates and practice many times, but somehow he never mentioned any detail about the team's kit or his number.

you're a little embarrassed to ask out loud.

"uh..." you whisper again, leaning slightly closer to isagi's mother without taking your eyes off the field. "what number is yoichi?"

"yoichi, hm?" there's a hint of amusement in his voice, teasing you for using his son's first name. "he's number eleven —there, near the long-haired redheaded boy. do you see him?"

your gaze follows her directions and rests on the blue back of number eleven. his back is turned, but his disheveled black hair and the way he walks are impossible to mistake.

“oh! yeah, i see him now, thanks." you smile, and your chronic need to fill all silences forces you to add something more “i've really been wanting to see him play."

the woman turns her head toward you, looking at you with the same kind expression you see on her son's face every morning. 

"believe me, if you were eager, he was even more so.” she says. “he won't stop talking about you."

and that sentence is enough to make you not say anything else for a while.

you started to suspect that you liked Isagi a couple of weeks ago, before your sudden disappearance —when you panicked because you had no way of contacting him to let him know that you had a family emergency. you’d been chatting since tuesday, at all hours of the day, every day until the game, and he hadn't pressed too much about what happened, probably so you wouldn’t feel bad. from what you could gather, he had been waiting for you every day —but nothing serious, really, don’t worry about it.

taking into account what you already knew about him, you assumed he'd been sitting at the table with the breakfast set, waiting for you all three days of the week. just imagining it made you want to scream into your pillow —he was so kind it made you sick. it made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

that's why you begged your parents to let you return to tokyo for at least a couple of hours that monday afternoon, because, according to you, claiming you’d left something really important at the apartment and needed to pick it up to finish your proyects. you’d run to the campus cafeteria with half your savings in your wallet, a bright green post-it note with your number written on it, and a message for the waitress.

thank god it worked, and you got a text from Isagi the next day. for a solid second, you truly thought you'd messed up completely —and that isagi hated you.

just when you were starting to process the fact that you really liked him.

because you like him. of course you like him.

more than halfway through the school year, things had started to get a little complicated for you —living alone for the first time, not having any really close friends in the city, having to navigate the capital on your own. sure, you may be a sociable and outgoing person, but sometimes everything felt too big. even for you.

and then you met isagi.

being with him is easy. talking with him is easy. feeling better, comfortable, and safe with him is easy. there came a point over these past months when you’d go to bed thinking about seeing him the next day —and he never failed. every morning, he was there, waiting for you with a coffee, a piece of toast, and a smile that started sending a weird tingling into your stomach the moment saw it.

it only took one night of facetime with your best friend back home to realize that a simple friend doesn't make you smile like a fool just thinking about them.

that, and disappearing for a whole week only to come back with a gesture straight out of an american teen romcom definitely isn’t just friends behaviour, you’d say.

a gesture straight out of a teen romcom. a smile escapes you just thinking about it, and you have to bite your lower lip so no one —not the couple next to you, at least— will notice.

but that’s exactly what you look like, right? the main characters of a movie.

you check all the boxes, if you think about it —you met in the university cafeteria every morning and started talking to share a breakfast set because —surprise— you were perfectly compatible. it became a tradition for both of you, to the point you only looked forward to seeing the other every week. then, suddenly, you disappear for a whole week when everything’s going fine, and he has no way to contact you. very convenient for the plot. but really, you hadn’t thought about exchanging socials, since you saw each other every other day anyway. 

thankfully, you managed to give him your number through the cafeteria waitress.

and now you’re at a soccer match, wearing the first blue thing you found in your mother’s closet —a scarf way too warm for a summer day, but the only thing that could pass as team merch— to show your support. his parents are sitting next to you in the stands after saving you a seat. to top it all off, it's a perfect sunny day.

what’s the next thing? a goal dedicated to you?

oh. well. mental note —you think to yourself, snapping back to reality as isagi’s mother grabs your arm excitedly— don’t be sarcastic with the universe ever again.

because, right after spiraling with thoughts of the guy you like for about fifteen whole minutes, you might suddenly find yourself standing in front of your blue seat with your hands up, that guy’s mother pulling you to your feet. your hand grips the railing of the stands, your voice drowned among the crowd’s victory screams —and your gaze searches the field for the one who just scored the first goal of the game.

don’t be sarcastic with the universe again, because when your eyes land on number eleven from the blue team, you might surprise yourself by widely smiling and joining the choir of voices chanting his name, your voice blending into the roar as his teammates lift him in celebration.

and maybe —just maybe— your gaze meets his. and as he grabs his jersey by the number and presses a kiss to it, he points straight at you and mouths, this one’s for you.

or that’s what you think he says. you can’t really hear him from up here, and now everyone’s eyes are on you, and you honestly have no idea how to react.

the match continues, thankfully, and you sit back down without having to say anything. the crowd’s attention returns the field — though you’re pretty sure isagi’s mother is still watching you, but you’re not brave enough to turn and confirm it.

isagi yoichi just dedicated a goal to me. okay. fine. that’s completely fine and means nothing.

except you don’t feel fine at all. and you’re pretty sure it does mean something.

so this time, for real, you put all your attention on the match —because, if you’re honest, you have no idea of what’s been happening on the field since the game started. you try to follow the ball and recall all the plays isagi has described to you so many times. it’s a bit difficult, though, considering you never really understood them and mostly nodded along just because you liked seeing him light up while talking about the things he loves.

yeah. maybe you’ve been down bad for longer than you thought.

as your eyes lock onto number eleven again, you start to regret not paying attention earlier.

he’s a bit far from you now, waiting on the side of the field for a pass or a chance to steal the ball, while his teammate —the one with the blond streaks— skillfully advances with it, weaving through the opposing team. but you can see him clearly.

he looks focused, deep blue eyes fixed on the ball as it draws closer, his jet-black hair waves slightly in the breeze, a few damp strands clinging to his forehead. his mouth is parted slightly, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of fast-paced breathing from running so much. his athletic shorts hug tightly around his thighs, muscles flexing as he starts to sprint after the now clear ball.

you swallow hard and blink a few times, trying to snap out of it. you're not the one who's been playing for nearly half an hour, but you're pretty sure you need a drink of water more than any of the players.

holy shit. since when is yoichi so hot?

you scratch the back of your neck nervously —a tic you’ve picked up from him—, eyes glued to the field. your face is hot and red, and you know it’s definitely not your too-warm scarf’s fault at all.

still, you can’t look away. you always knew he was handsome —way before you ever gathered the courage to talk to him—, but this is different. he looks confident, almost cocky. there’s a smug little grin when he steals the ball, raised brows when he blocks a goal, and the rest of the time he’s laser-focused, scanning the field. you can’t help but gulp every time his head turns toward the stands and his eyes land on you, even for just a second.

you don’t even catch what he’s yelling, both to his rivals and his teammates —probably not compliments or pretty words, judging by the way the crowd and even his parents react— because it’s impossible to focus on what he’s saying when he looks so aggressive and somehow so attractive doing it.

or maybe you just like him too much, and everything he does seems attractive.. 

either way, it doesn’t matter —because then he scores again, and the crowd erupts. you do too, but not because the scoreboard now reads 3-0, securing the win thanks to number ten’s earlier goal. no.

you turn bright red when, right after scoring, the striker looks straight at you —at your seat— with a confident, satisfied grin, and points at you again.

your legs actually tremble.

he’s driving you insane, and you’re pretty sure he knows it. 

you're so caught up in whatever spell he has you under that, for the rest of the match, you don't process a single a thing —even though your eyes never leave him once.

you do a good job of being a fan, though. 

you stand up with the crowd to clap and cheer when his teammates score two more goals —number 10, whose name is rin, as you've already learned, and the tall, white-haired boy, nagi. you even boo the other team when they get their first and only goal. you nod at all yoichi’s mother comments, who understands the game about as much as you do, and you smile politely at his father when he says something —which you mostly can’t hear over the crowd’s noise, but still respond to with an enthusiastic nod.

the heat gets intense enough that you’re forced to take your jacket off —not technically because of the weather, but no one but you needs to know that. by the end of the match, your jeans are rolled up and you’re left in just a tank top. but the scarf is still around your neck, and you make sure to adjust it carefully across your shoulders before following isagi’s parents down to the field once the crowd begins to disperse.

“what do you think, yn? isn’t he good?” his father asks. 

it’s the first time you can actually make out what he’s saying —the crowd had been way too loud before, and you didn’t want to repeat “what?” twenty times, so you’d just nodded and smiled.

“yeah, wow. he really is.” you answer, walking a little awkwardly between the two of them. you’re not even sure when exactly they managed to surround you “i understand now why you said he’s considered one of the best strikers in japan. i mean, he’s told me a lot about soccer, so i knew he had to be good just from how much he knows… but, wow. he’s amazing.” 

“yes, he is.” his mother adds, flashing you a wide smile. 

you meet her gaze and mirror the expression, and you know she means it when she says “we are very proud of him.”

his father nods in agreement, and something warm and fluttering blooms in your chest. it’s a weird feeling, being proud of someone just because you know others are proud of them too. feeling glad  —relieved, even— that people see him and admire him the same way you do. 

that’s love, you guess.

“he’s really thankful for you” you don’t know where it comes from, but you can’t stop yourself. “he’s told me a bunch of times. he loves you a lot.”

isagi’s mother’s smile softens, her right arm slipping around your shoulders. she adjusts your scarf gently, her fingers brushing your skin as she gives you a warm little squeeze.

“ah, we love him a lot, too.” she replies —then her kind smile shifts into something far too close to a teasing grin. “and something tells me we’re gonna love you a lot, too.”

you’re left completely speechless. you glance away quickly, unable to form a single coherent thought —let alone a response. what are you supposed to say when the mother of the guy you like basically gives you her blessing before you’re even official?

thankfully, isagi is finished talking to his coach and is now approaching you near the edge of the field. 

“yocchan!” his mother calls out, cupping her hands around her mouth to be heard —and removing her arm from around your shoulders in the process. “we’re here!”

you try to laugh at the nickname —you remember him confessing it to you a few mornings ago, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment— but you can’t. you can’t, because you’re speechless again. 

yoichi walks towards you with slow, steady steps.

his face is flushed and glistening with sweat, and his eyes still burn with the thrill of victory—there’re still traces of the same pride and confidence he only ever shows when he’s on the field in his gaze. strands of hair cling to his forehead, and his shirt, damp with sweat, sticks tightly to his frame.

then he grabs the hem of his jersey with one hand and lifts it to his face to wipe off the sweat from his mouth and nose. you try not to stare —really, you try—, but your eyes flick down to his stomach, and then straight back up to his eyes.

he's so attractive you almost choke on air.

isagi's mother starts to take a few steps toward him, but before she can reach him, a small group of girls intercepts him —practically swarming yoichi with flirtatious smiles and compliments that , judging by their tone, probably end with a request for his number.

however, despite how confident he is on the field, isagi’s not like that off of it —he’s more on the shy side. and he clearly has no interest in them at all.

he thanks them politely, as best he can, then awkwardly escapes the circle of attention they’ve trapped him in, practically jogging over to where his parents —and you— are waiting for him.

you know he's nervous when his hands goes to the back of his neck, ruffling his hair. he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

it's funny how the silence is broken not by him, but by the same group of girls from before.

“i have no idea who that is.” one of them says, voice pitched just loud enough to be heard “maybe his sister? or his cousin, or something.”

you both burst out laughing at the interruption—and the assumption— and just like that, the awkward tension fades, letting isagi finally speak.

“thanks for coming.” he says. “i thought you weren’t going to show for a second, when the match started and i didn’t see you.” 

“yeah, had a little subway confusion, so…”

“no! no, i didn't mean it like a complaint or anything —just an observation. i’m really glad you made it.”

you smile softly.

“yeah, i’m really glad i came, too.”

he smiles back, and suddenly, it feels like the first day again, when neither of you knew what to say after that first hi.

you swallow hard, blink, and then break the silence.

“you were… fuck, you were amazing out there.” 

you’re staring at him —a little too openly. and then it hits you: you’re not alone. “oh! i mean- i mean, you were, wow, amazing out there.” you correct yourself quickly, glancing at his parents beside you.

his father chuckles.

“don’t worry. after all the things he’s shouted on the field, a simple fuck is nothing.”

your face burns red —redder than the opposing team’s jerseys— while both his parents laugh.

and you expect isagi to laugh too, or brush it off like he did with the girls earlier. but, instead, he blushes, and looks at you with that small, lopsided smile that makes your chest ache. 

then he looks away again, ruffling his hair.

there’s your breakfast partner again. not the star athlete —just the cute guy from the cafeteria that studies psychology and plays soccer.

"thanks. you, uh..”

he glances at his mom, who subtly gestures, nudging him to say more —like this is something they’ve rehearsed.

"you look very pretty today.” he finally says. 

then he adds, quickly:

“i mean, you always do —not just today. but you look specially pretty today." and he’s babbling again "that blue scarf looks great on you. but, uh, you also look kind of like you’re suffocating?”

you laugh. if only he knew it’s not the weather, but him, what’s making your face so red.

"i remembered uni's color was blue” you explain, fingers fidgeting with the end of the scarf. “didn’t have any merch, so i just tried to support you with whatever i had at home.”

what you don’t mention is that you stole it from you mom’s closet back in your hometown, after having a full-blown crisis over not owning anything remotely close to your college’s colors.

“well, i could give you something.” he offers, voice low and a bit nervous. “i have a few spare jerseys at home." 

you’re about to answer —or collapse, honestly, because you’re pretty sure this is the kind of things official couples do in cliché romantic movies— but then his mom cuts in:

“speaking of that —why don’t you come over, yn?” she asks. “i made yocchan’s favorite meal today. have lunch with us? he told us you live alone, so there’s no issue, right?” 

you start to understand where isagi got his talent for yapping.

“we’ll get to know you better, yoichi thanks you for coming to the game, and he gives you his jersey." 

your brain becomes a chaotic mess of thoughts. you want to say yes, obviously. you want to thank her for the invitation. you want to ask isagi what giving you his jersey means. you want to see his room and his house, but you also kind of want to run back to your place, dive onto your bed, and scream into a pillow.

isagi misreads your hesitation.

"mom, she might have plans. don’t pressure her—" 

"no, no, i’d love to go!" you interrupt quickly. 

yoichi raises a brow, clearly surprised —he knows you don’t really like his favorite dish. you’ve been bickering about it for weeks.

"thank you for inviting me."

"you heard her, yoichi, she said yes.” his mom beams. “now go shower, you’re still red from the match. you’ve got fifteen minutes, meet us at the car. meanwhile, yn and us have lots to talk about.”

somehow, she doesn’t make it sound like a threat, more like an invitation. 

drawing a smile, isagi mumbles a soft "sorry" before heading to the locker room. as he walks away, you call out: “i´ll be fine. i think she likes me." 

isagi’s smile is wide and bright right before he disappears through the locker room door. he’s so wrapped up in his own joy —so stupidly in love— he doesn’t even notice the trap he’s just walked into.

inside, the locker room is already full. his teammates are waiting, ready to tease him.

"i have some spare jerseys" karasu mocks, his voice high-pitched, grinning wide. "i could give you one”

isagi throws his towel at him.

"oh, shut up”

"nah, thats a good move, isagi" otoya chimes in “i've done that a bunch. nothing makes me play better than having a cute girl with my number on in the stands”

isagi doesn't love the comparison. otoya is famous for rotating girls every match —and that’s so not him. definitely not with you. 

he wants you at all his games. he wants you to be the only one ever, actually. for everything. only you, even if it seems too intense.

"its not like that" isagi says "i really like her. like… marry-her-like-her. having-kids-with-her-like-her. celebrate-christmas-with-her-like-her. ” 

otoya blinks.

"huh? well, i like all my girlfriends a lot too.”

isagi doesn’t respond —mostly because chigiri and reo immediately jump into a debate with otoya about how what he just said is probably offensive to, like, every girl in the country. and in the world.

still, one word lingers in his mind.

girlfriend. 

yeah. he wouldn’t mind calling you that at all.

masterlist.

tags ౨ৎ @ireallylikemenalot @rohfulike @numberonenessandnagistan @blu3-l0v3r .ᐟ (i tagged everyone who asked for the part 2, hope u dont mind <3 tell me if u want me to remove u from the list no prob!!)

﹫luvseisagi, june 2025.

[queerical]

i believe part of the reason tag replies became common was becuz back in the day, as you'll recall, adding a comment caused each comment above it to "stack", with all those lines coming down from urls (idk the actual terminology for that style of conversation formatting) which could make posts difficult to read, so it was considered common courtesy to not add a comment unless it REALLY mattered.

personally, that has somewhat informed how i do reblogs and tags today. if i believe what i have to say is is truly valuable to the conversation and i actively want other ppl to see/react to it, i will reblog with a comment.

otherwise, my "tag essays" are, in fact, FOR ME (and for any followers who read all my tags), since i routinely re-read posts on my blog. they aren't meant to be replies or to continue the conversation, they are just my own thoughts on the matter that i want to share without becoming part of the conversation.

if they "pass peer review" and get added, i'm flattered, but i'm not bothered if they don't. if i was bothered that what i had to share was not included in the post, then i would have added it as a comment.

personally i "overuse" tags becuz i find it fun! if a post gives me thoughts and i want to get them out but i don't want to engage in a dialogue or i don't think my thoughts add to the dialogue, i can put them in the tags. if it's a silly text post and i want to go on at length about a random anecdote that's semi-related but i don't want everyone who follows someone who reblogs that post from me to see it, i can put it in the tags!

i do also use tags for their organizational purposes, but i actually think "tag essays" are fun, and i also think it's fun to decide if someone else's tags are worth adding to a post or if someone decides mine are.

tl;dr: if i want to be involved in the conversation or i feel what i have to say adds something to conversation, i reblog with a comment. otherwise, i use the tags as an extra "whisper space" for my own enjoyment and that of my followers.

[a further thought i just had becuz i remembered the original topic of this thread: i think conversationality on tumblr was partially harmed by how the reply feature was changed. back in the day, if someone made a comment on your post, hitting the reply button made it into a whole new post! then they could comment on that new post, and when you replied, it made another new post, etc.

in this way you could carry on a (generally) easy to follow conversation with more than one person based on a single starting point, and other people could pop in if they wanted. then staff took that away. and if people wanted to talk, they had to start a reblog chain that would grow longer and longer and which their followers would repeatedly have to scroll past.

eventually they gave us comments/replies back, but in its current form (altho without the threading) which made conversing with even one person extremely confusing. they did eventually give us dms, but that could feel far more intimate than just replying to a public post and having a semi-public chat, which i'm sure stopped some people from using them for conversations they might have otherwise had.

you CAN still do replies the old way if you have xkit, but it seems to me that most people don't. if i comment instead of reblog, it's with that old way in mind. i want to talk, but i don't feel a desire to have the post on my blog or have that conversation in front of all my followers, i want it to be between me and OP.

if it's someone i don't know well, i'd feel awkward going to dms, and even if i do know the person well, tumblr isn't consistent on informing pp that they have a new dm. so i comment and see if they reply, but i don't like it.

This is probably because I am Internet Old (41 years of age)

And because I grew up with message board/forum/blog/LJ culture...

but it seems like many younger people do not want to converse; that any response other than 'THIS' - anything that reflects, responds, adds, comments upon, etc a post is seen as adversarial/disagreement.

I'd love to have a conversation about this trend, especially as it relates to tumblr, which USED to be a much more conversational website than it currently is.

replies vs. reblogs definitely exacerbated this hugely; the tiktokification of 'person who creates content' and 'person who consumed that content' rather than 'human beings having a conversation'.

[prince-liest]

Thoughts on radioapple as a qpr?

I'm of two opinions on this... forewarning that I'm giving my general and genuine opinion in this ask. Insert disclaimer about "not all radioapple," this is not a judgment on those that like what I dislike, don't come for me, etc, etc.

I'm not a huge fan of radioapple as a ship, QPR or otherwise. A lot of this comes down to how they're characterized in that ship on average. I love Alastor and Lucifer as characters independently from each other, but radioapple has pretty broad mass appeal and thus a tendency to see their characters simplified into personality and relationship tropes. (I remember being genuinely very confused when I realized that radioapple is more popular than radiostatic, to a degree that is really funny in retrospect.)

That said, there has been radioapple that I've read and really, really enjoyed (check out my AO3 bookmarks). Generally it's been slowburn as hell, genuinely dedicated to portraying Alastor as aroace (and usually sex-repulsed which is my preference in this context; I also feel like non-QPR radioapple has higher rates of "wow this Alastor is definitely not ace" vibes than other ships from what I've anecdotally noticed), and taken a lot of time to dissect both of their personalities, goals, and the ways in which they'd clash and subsequently build on them both individually as characters and in relation to each other.

A lot of my issues with radioapple comes from not being a fan of typical "enemies to lovers (or QPRs)" tropes, which I think in turn ties into my being very aro and very ace. If you give me an enemies to partners then you better be very fucking dedicated to proving to me why these two end up actually liking each other, because there is nothing I find less relatable than horny hatefucking or a relationship built on humiliating or putting down your partner (in a non-kinky way, or in a kinky way that disguises genuine poor treatment). A lot of the "they take turns humiliating each other" or "Lucifer puts Alastor in his place" flavored fics that are intended to be shippy just put me off entirely. Especially given radioapple's intended endgame flavor most of the time is that it's not a toxic ship.

This extends to them in a QPR. Any kind of emotional connection between these two for me would require writing dedicated to the emotional legwork. I think this is why I don't enjoy a lot of radioapple art, too - by the nature of the medium it's hard to capture that in a single image.

Tl;dr: 99% of the time, hard pass. 1% of the time, fucking amazing work, good job, love it, can't WAIT for the sequel.

[forsaken-headcanons]

very long yap about my builderman hcs

(my interest with Roblox in general leaks into my Forsaken hcs so here is a link to a very old blog post so that you have context for the whole Lua thing: https://blog.haydz6.com/2007/02/encyclopedia-robloxica | Luatongue is a hc name I have for it but it basically means the same thing dw about it)

also, "^" means that a hc is related to the one(s) above it in some way

okay that's out of the way! come on everypony let's get started!!! /silly

------

-Has a southern accent. It's not thick but it is noticeable. 

-Decently muscular.

-His physical body looks like a middle-aged dude, but Builder has existed for an insane amount of time. The Admins are not gods, but they aren't regular mortals either. 

-Was the first Admin. He actually created the admins as a group, along with Roblox HQ to keep some semblance of peace in Robloxia. Before the admins, Robloxia was an incredibly chaotic and dangerous place, with hackers, exploiters, mythical creatures, aliens, demons, angels, deities, gods, and a million other things running around doing whatever they wanted. The admins and Roblox HQ are like the SCP foundation but to a lesser extent. They don't go out of their way to deal with the supernatural, as they also function as the law/government, but they do try to keep the insane reality breaking dudes away from the general populace. 

-Builderman is really, REALLY good at Luatongue. This in addition to his creative thinking made him extremely powerful pre-Forsakening. He may have looked like a normal Robloxian, but he was an admin mainly because he was born with what was essentially divine knowledge that translated to god-like powers. However, when The Spectre took him to its realm, it made him forget nearly all of the Lua he knew, causing him to lose a nearly all of his power. 

-^Despite his extreme natural proficiency with Lua, Builderman is not the prophet, as he isn't able to effectively share what it means with others. Lua is less of a "language" and more of a way that the beings within Robloxia can manipulate the very fabric of Robloxia itself. For anyone who isn't the prophet, telling someone who doesn't have a natural connection to Luatongue how to use it is nearly impossible. It's not even known how the prophet is supposed to share Lua with Robloxia, only that they will have some special ability to do so. 

-^Has notes that he works on periodically of what he can remember about Luatongue. Usually, "working" on these notes entails him sitting somewhere racking his brain for any scraps of it he can remember, jotting it down, and then pondering over the notes to try and gain back more memories of it. 

-^Builderman's knowledge of Lua was among one of the few things that The Spectre couldn't directly prevent the forsaken robloxians from using. The Spectre may be an extremely powerful entity, but it is, by a long shot, not powerful enough to override the code that is the very foundation of the universe. It had actually written off getting a hold of Builderman completely before it got the idea to make him forget Luatongue, and even that was extremely difficult for it, especially since he fought back against being taken by The Spectre, which it wasn't used to it's victims being strong enough to do so. The only reason it managed to pull it off was because Builderman was so focused on his fight with The Spectre and simultaneously resisting it's attempts to transport him to it's realm, that he didn't realize that Spectre was altering his mind as well until it was too late.

-Builderman cannot directly destroy things with Lua; he is only able to create. It's easy for him to work around this because he can just. create something destructive. But Builderman can't straight up use Luatongue to destroy. 

-When he was younger, he created a "focus" item of sorts. It was a trowel, and while it looked normal, it had a certain energy to it. Builderman created the trowel because while he had an unheard of ability to use Lua, he didn't have fine control over his powers. Without the trowel, he can make a wall. With his trowel, he can make a castle-sized wall, or a wall fit for a dollhouse, or even a regular wall the size of what would be in a house, of any color imaginable, and made out of whatever he'd like. 

-^ a secondary thing the trowel does: anyone holding it will be able to walk in the air at will. When he made the trowel, Builderman gave it this property so that he'd be able to get better views on whatever it was he was making at the moment. After he started taking on the role of the regulator of Robloxia, it turned out that being able to basically fly was really useful. 

-^sometimes when he was younger and just messing around, he'd stand like. Fully horizontally in the air just for the laughs. #1 at the lying down game /j 

-^obviously, he doesn't have his trowel with him in The Spectre's realm. Builderman had a deep emotional attachment to it, and misses it sometimes. 

-Even without the use of his weird god-language-powers, Builderman is really good with tech and engineering-type stuff. 

-He naturally has the general vibe of a leader, and this combined with his role pre-Forsakening means that the survivors will nearly always listen to him and do what he says. The other admins also have some authority, but he's got the most. 

BUILDERMAN HEADCANONS WOOHOOOO!!!! he 100% has a slight southern accent. He feels like the type of guy to have one.

[tokidokitokyo]

Starting a Conversation in Japanese

A podcast I really enjoy, ことのは日本語の会話のpodcast, recently posted an episode about starting a conversation in Japanese:

やまむ先生 and きび先生 are two Japanese language teachers who talk about a variety of topics on their podcast, and the back-and-forth between the two women is a good way to attune your ears to natural Japanese language conversation.

This episode in particular - 日本で使て！日本人に話しかけるフレーズ (Use in Japan! Phrases to start a conversation with Japanese people) - resonated with me because, although I've been studying Japanese for more than half my life (^^;;) I still vividly remember when I first arrived in Japan and felt like I could barely form a coherent sentence. Speaking with people was a daunting challenge, and if I hadn't had friendly people around me I think that I would have been awkward and terrified for a lot longer than I was. They also have set phrases which I wish I had someone to tell me before I went to Japan!

Feel free to listen to this episode and let me know if you have any additional tips or suggestions to the ones I list below. This episode is designed for N3-level speakers and above, but here are the things that they hit on that I thought were particularly important:

My Japanese Level is Too Low!

When I first arrived in Japan, and the ticket cashier switched immediately to English because I was struggling, I really felt like I could not do Japanese at all, and I was pretty intimidated. But! I used Japanese regularly, and I was able to eventually have enough confidence to speak to others.

The main point brought up in this podcast is that N5 level (beginning level) is enough to start a conversation!

Using formal です・ます forms is perfectly acceptable and actually this is how many Japanese people would address each other when speaking with someone for the first time or with someone they do not know well. You could start off casually, and count on the 外人パス (foreigner card) to get you through, but it is generally more comfortable for Japanese people if you approach them with formal, respectful language. You don't need to pull out N1-level grammar to introduce yourself (and it might even be more awkward if you do), so just go ahead with the basics.

Adjust your comments to the situation!

If you are in a restaurant, a work setting, a group setting, or a school setting, tailor your opening comment to the situation. In Japanese I have heard this called TPO (time, place, occasion), which means don't ask a coworker if she's been on any dates lately (seems like common sense?) and in front of a group of soccer players (I'm imagining my own days in the soccer circle) don't start drooling over BTS' Jin (at least not until you find the other Jin fans - when you first join the club it's way too early). The podcast gives you some good conversation starters that are harmless and can be used in multiple situations. After all, Japanese is all about reading the air (空気を読む).

Think about what you'll say next before you even speak!

I know, I know, you already spent 3.2 hours coming up with your opening line and another 45 minutes working up the courage to use it... but once you've initiated the conversation, the other person may not step up to carry on the conversation, leaving the onus on you. If you're interested in continuing the conversation, have some follow up comments or questions ready in your back pocket. As in any language, if you don't make the effort to continue the conversation, it might just fizzle out.

It's a conversation, not an interrogation!

Asking about the other person is a sure-fire way to keep them talking, but you also need to be mindful that they may not want an interrogation. As they say in the podcast, try to read their face colour (顔の色) and change your approach as needed. Since you are (most likely) from a different country, you could throw in some fun facts about your country that are related to the topic you picked to keep things going.

Safe things to talk about:

The weather

Your hometown/home country

Their plans for the weekend/upcoming holiday

Their hometown

Food

In Short

People are people, and even if your Japanese is not where you'd like it to be, most people will be willing to speak with you, and I've found that most Japanese people are flattered you are learning their language. Since practicing is the best way to improve, there's no better time than now to start speaking. Just remember TPO (time/place/occasion), don't interrogate the other person, and prepare some follow up comments to keep the conversation flowing as best you can.

Hope this is useful!

[respectfulrebel]

Ahhhhh the flirting???? The banter with Amber??? Alpine???? 😭😭😭 I love this so much already, I’m so invested in this story 😭 why does he fight? What happened to him? Is it to punish himself for whatever reason??? I need to knooooow 😭😭😭

"I had to fight my own soul to get out of bed. Be grateful."

I am Amber, Amber is me 😭

"God, I love when your life becomes a movie. Keep going."

Honestly, she is so relatable, I love her already.

"I didn't plan it. He was just... different. I don't know, he was... not like Kole."

Giiiirl, dump his ass 😭😭😭

"So he's got emotional damage and a probable concussion. Sexy."

What did I say??? She is me 😭😂

"It was just one night. One really weird night. And I'm with Kole."

Not for long… 🤭 I hope

"Nick wants the place cleaned top to bottom before the walk-ins start, and I'm the lucky one who gets to mop the floors and wipe down the chairs."

Niiiick??? 🥺🥺🥺

As you grabbed the jeans to toss them in the laundry basket, something cold and metallic slipped out of the pocket and landed on the floor with a soft clink.

*gasp* THE BRACELET!

At night, it got cold in the building. The wind cut through the broken windows and the walls didn't hold heat. He'd sleep under layers of old blankets, wearing half his clothes, listening to the sound of water dripping through the pipes. The showers ran cold no matter what.

Ohhhh babyyy 😭 I’d be kicking Kole out and dragging Noah to move in with me immediately

Because of course, his mind kept circling back to you.

🥺🥺🥺🥺

He couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him without anger behind it.

"Hey, Alpine."

A quiet meow answered him.

A CAT! 😭😭😭 as if this could get any more perfect. Alpine is also moving in with Noah when he comes to live in Kole’s place 🫢

But what little he did have, he shared. A corner of the mattress, old blankets, and sometimes the last dollar in his pocket, traded for cheap cat food at the bodega two blocks away. It was worth it.

😭😭😭 please protect this man 😭

And on the days Noah could barely stand to look in the mirror, the kitten still climbed into his lap and purred like she was safe.

Stoooooppp 😭😭😭

Before you fully registered the thought, you found yourself dragging a rusty trash bin across the cracked pavement. At nine in the morning on your day off, here you were, preparing to climb into an abandoned building through a window. That was probably the moment you realized you had lost your mind.

The things people do for love 🤭

"You've been stuck in my head for six days for some reason and it was getting really annoying. So I wanted to check if you were actually still alive."

I love that she’s kinda confessing already 😭😭😭

"If I knew breaking my face and almost chocking on my own blood in a dark alley was all it took to get a pretty girl's attention, I would've done it sooner."

Aasdkdjahaksjalskaas KISS ALREADY 😭

"No, yeah, I think I will. You broke into a building for me. I'm invested now."

SO AM I 😭

"That makes way more sense. Has nothing to do with the fact that you've been thinking about me for six days."

I love their banter so much it hurts 😭😭😭

"Let's not do this, okay?" he said, voice firm. "We're not friends. You don't know me, and I don't know you. You gave me the bracelet and I gave you your shirt. I think it's better if this stops now."

Nooo stooop, it was going so well 😭😭😭

"I don't deserve shit," he said. "And definitely not from you."

NOOOAH!! Stoop it 😭😭😭😭

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Pairing: underground fighter! noah x reader

Series summary: You’re dragged to watch an illegal fight, and after the match, you meet Noah, a fighter who seems to be battling more than just his opponents.

Series masterlist

Your best friend showed up twenty minutes late, obviously.

The coffee shop where you waited for her was one of those faux-rustic places with exposed brick, croissants that cost way too much, and an indie playlist always in the background.

She stepped inside with oversized sunglasses on her head even if it wasn't really sunny, blonde hair all messy. A plaid slip dress layered over a chunky cable-knit sweater, knee-high boots that looked like they’d survived a war, and a tiny black purse. For a girl studying fashion, she sometimes wore really unusual outfit combinations.

She spotted you instantly and made her way over.

“You ordered already?” she asked, sliding into the seat across from you with a sigh.

“Are you allergic to mornings, by any chance?” you asked, lifting your cup. “Or is ten a.m. sunrise in Amber World?”

She made a face. “I had to fight my own soul to get out of bed. Be grateful.”

You smirked, already halfway through your first coffee. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Obviously,” she said, then leaned in a little. “Okay. So. This guy.”

You gave her a look. “I knew you were gonna open with that.”

“I’ve been waiting all night for this story, don’t play coy. You texted me ‘I stripped for a man I met less than an hour ago’ and then ghosted me. Who does that?”

You snorted into your coffee. “I didn’t strip strip.”

Amber raised an eyebrow. “Your shirt came off. That qualifies.”

You leaned back in your seat, shaking your head. “You make it sound so much worse than it was.”

She grinned. “Honey, you don’t need me to make it sound worse.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Fine. So, we go to this underground fight club, don’t even ask me how Kole knows about it. I didn’t even want to go. I thought it’d be stupid. And gross. I’ve seen weird shit before, like that one party where everyone was microdosing on mushrooms, but this?”

You paused. Amber leaned in further.

“This was next level.”

She let out a delighted gasp. “God, I love when your life becomes a movie. Keep going."

So you did, right after Amber order a honey lavender latte with oat milk, and a vegan lemon-blueberry muffin.

You told her about the crowd, the noise, the guy who raised his arms like he was in the damn UFC. You told her about the moment Noah got into the ring, how he looked like he already knew he was going to lose. How it wasn’t even a fair fight and everyone knew.

“How bad was it?” she asked softly.

You shrugged, remembering. “Bad. I left before it ended. I couldn’t watch. Kole was having the time of his life.”

Amber made a face. “Ew.”

“Yeah. So I went outside to get air. And guess who gets tossed out into the alley like trash?”

She blinked. “Noah.”

You nodded.

“He looked... I don’t know. Hurt. Not just physically. Like no one had ever given a shit about him, and he’d stopped giving a shit about himself too.”

Amber’s smirk faded a little. “That’s kinda sad.”

“Yeah, well. The whole thing felt kinda sad.” You paused, wrapping your hands around your coffee cup. “I couldn’t just leave him there like that. I tried to help, didn't really do much.”

Amber was quiet for a second, then said, “So you gave him your shirt.”

You gave her a sheepish look. “It was the only clean fabric I had. What was I supposed to do? Let him bleed all over the pavement?”

She covered her face with her hands, laughing. “You are literally the weirdest person I know. And I say that with love.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

She peeked at you through her fingers. “But also… kind of sweet. In a reckless, vaguely illegal way.”

You sighed. “I didn’t plan it. He was just... different. I don't know, he was... not like Kole.”

By the time you stopped talking, you'd already said it, and you'd made it sound wrong.

Amber was watching you now with that look she always gave when she saw through you a little too easily.

“You like him.”

You almost choked. “I don’t even know him.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You stayed quiet for a momenti, then muttered, “He asked me not to come back.”

“Did you tell him you probably will anyway?”

You didn’t answer.

Amber raised her cup like a toast, joking. “Well. Say hello from me when you see him again.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not going back.”

She smiled over the rim of her drink. “You totally are.”

"I told you I'm not."

Amber pulled a piece off her muffin and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “So,” she said, her voice casual but her blue eyes sharp, “What did you two talk about while he tried not to pass out in that alley?”

You sighed, tracing your finger along the rim of your cup. “He barely said anything. Just... thanked me. Asked my name. He said fighting is all he has.”

She whistled low. “So he’s got emotional damage and a probable concussion. Sexy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Amber.”

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying. Be careful. I know you, don't go back and try to fix him.”

“I’m not trying to fix him,” you said, maybe a little too fast.

“You gave him your shirt.”

“It was a reflex!”

She grinned. “You have weird reflexes.”

“I just...he looked like he needed someone.”

Amber’s expression softened. “And you’ve got a hero complex.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I do.”

Amber nodded, satisfied. “Finally we agree on something. Now tell me one thing, was he at least hot?”

You couldn’t help the way your lips curled. “Amber. He had blood in his hair, one eye was swelling shut, and I’m ninety percent sure he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days.”

Amber leaned back in her chair. “So that’s a yes.”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “God, you’re the worst.”

Amber laughed. “And you have a crush on a stranger.”

“I don't.”

“Denial. First stage.”

“I don't!” you said louder, holding your cup up like it could shield you. “It was just one night. One really weird night. And I'm with Kole.”

Amber scoffed again, but let it drop, her boot tapping against the leg of the table in that absentminded way she did when her brain had already moved on to the next thing.

“So, are you free later or is your mysterious alley-boy getting another shirt from you?”

You glared at her. “I’ve got work.”

You'd been working at Nick's Urban Ink Studio for several months now and Amber never seemed to remember.

“Right,” she said. “I always forget you have an actual job.”

“Nick wants the place cleaned top to bottom before the walk-ins start, and I’m the lucky one who gets to mop the floors and wipe down the chairs.”

Amber grinned. “But you still love it.”

“I love being there,” you corrected. “The actual job? Meh. I’m just a tattoo shop receptionist. I answer the phone, book appointments, tell drunk dudes we don’t do dick tats, and clean up ink splatter when someone bleeds too hard.”

She perked up. “Still sounds cooler than anything I’ve ever done. You get to hang out with artists all day.”

“Yeah, well, Nick’s a decent boss. And he lets me play whatever music I want.”

“Did you show him your drawings?”

You let out a small laugh. “No. I have no reason to. He’s the artist, not me.”

“You do really good sketches. You should show him. Maybe he’ll like them and…”

“And what? Give me a promotion? Come on, be serious. All I do is doodle.”

Amber gave you a look like she didn’t believe a word. “You’re way too modest. If it were up to me, you’d already have a whole wall to yourself.”

You just rolled your eyes.

Amber rested her chin on her hand, watching you. “You think he’d let me book an appointment?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You trying to get inked?”

“I was thinking something small. Like... a butterfly.”

You tilted your head. “A butterfly?”

Amber shrugged. “Something on my arm. Tiny. Simple. I don’t know. Symbol of transformation and all that crap.”

“Well, Nick would definitely do a good job. I’ll check his schedule later. See when he’s free."

"Cool. Let me know."

You finished the last sip of your now-cold coffee and stood, grabbing your bag. “Alright, I better go if I don’t want Nick to threaten me with the steam cleaner again.”

Amber wasn’t done.

“You think I’ll get a discount because I know you?” she called after you.

You paused, glancing back with a smirk. “Nick doesn’t even give discounts to people he knows.”

Amber threw her hands up. “What kind of boss is that?”

“The serious kind,” you said, grinning as you pushed the door open.

She laughed, waving as you walked toward the door. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to charm him instead.”

You shook your head, waving back. “Good luck with that.”

You stepped into your house after work, just as the late afternoon sunlight spilled through the windows in warm beams. You sighed, hanging your bag on the coat rack by the door.

Kole was still at work. His shift at the warehouse stretched late, and he was probably still stacking shelves and sorting shipments at the sprawling department store, the one that sold everything from clothes to kitchen goods, random trinkets, and sometimes those odd gadgets no one really needed.

You changed into more comfortable clothes and started picking up the ones Kole had left scattered around the living room: his hoodie tossed over the arm of the couch, a wrinkled shirt half-hanging off the edge of the chair, and then a pair of jeans balled up on the floor of your bedtogether.

As you grabbed the jeans to toss them in the laundry basket, something cold and metallic slipped out of the pocket and landed on the floor with a soft clink.

You paused, crouching down and picking it up. A silver bracelet.

For a moment, your brain froze.

You had completely forgotten Kole had taken it.

You rolled it between your fingers, the metal cool and heavy against your skin.

You remembered promising Amber you wouldn’t go back to find him, that morning. You kind of tried to promise yourself that, too.

But here it was. His bracelet.

In your hands.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at it. It didn't look really expensive. You weren't an expert, but it looked more like silver than white gold, probably wouldn't get more than fifteen dollars if someone tried to sell it.

You leaned back against the bedframe and stared up at the ceiling, the last of the golden light slipping across the room. You could already hear Amber in your head again, saying “I told you so”.

And yeah, maybe this wasn’t the smartest idea. Maybe it was reckless, unnecessary, and you were asking for trouble just by thinking about finding him.

But honestly? You were almost relieved to have a reason to go looking for him.

Even if, technically, you had no idea where to start.

Unfortunately, your next completely free day was six days away, so you had no choice but to wait.

Kole started his shift early every day, 7 a.m, and he wouldn’t be home until late.

You already knew what you were going to do, you just had to be patient now.

Noah didn’t have a home.

Not really.

What he had was a place to crash. A half-dead building on the outskirts of the city, not far from where the underground fights usually happened. It had been abandoned for years, and whatever it once was, a factory, gym, or school, had been swallowed by time.

The outside was overgrown with weeds and tagged in layers of graffiti. Half the windows were shattered, and inside, the air smelled like concrete and rust.

Still, it was quiet. Empty. And no one bothered him there.

He lived in the biggest room, the one with high ceilings and beams that creaked when the wind pushed too hard. He’d swept it clean the day he claimed it, years ago, shoved the trash and broken glass into a corner and pretended it didn't exist anymore.

A mattress sat in the far end of the room, thin and lopsided but enough to sleep on. A few crates acted as makeshift furniture. He’d dragged in a desk lamp, found one working outlet in the wall, and sometimes it even turned on.

At night, it got cold in the building. The wind cut through the broken windows and the walls didn’t hold heat. He’d sleep under layers of old blankets, wearing half his clothes, listening to the sound of water dripping through the pipes. The showers ran cold no matter what.

In the center of the room, hanging from a chain that once held god knows what, was a punching bag. Old and worn. But it did the job.

That was where he was now, throwing punches with all the strength he had. The bag swung gently under each hit. His hands were wrapped, his breath uneven.

It had been almost a week since his last match; his ribs still ached, but nothing like that first day, and the swelling on his face had gone down a lot.

It had also been nearly a week since he’d seen you.

Because of course, his mind kept circling back to you.

He gritted his teeth and threw another jab.

He’d expected disgust. Pity, maybe. But you hadn’t looked at him like that. You’d looked... concerned. Maybe even scared, but not of him.

And then, the softness. The way you touched him, carefully, like you thought you might hurt him more if you weren’t gentle enough. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him without anger behind it.

He kept remembering the feeling of your hand against his skin, the way your fingertips brushed his cheek when you moved his hair away from his face when he was still on the ground.

Even with blood dripping from his nose, his vision blurred, his ears ringing, he’d felt it. Clearly.

Even when you didn’t know what to do, you tried. He hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t deserved it, and still, you were there.

His hands dropped from the bag, arms burning slightly from the repetition. He leaned forward, resting his weight against it, forehead pressed into the worn leather.

That moment stuck with him more than he wanted to admit.

He shouldn’t have cared. He didn’t know you, and you probably were just a good person trying to do the right thing.

The problem was you weren’t supposed to care either. But you did.

And now you were stuck in his head. Not the way the fights got stuck, not like bruises or pain, not like the bad memories that kept him up at night, leaving him staring at the ceiling of that shitty place. You were a different kind of ache.

Either way, it didn’t really matter what you’d done. He wasn’t going to see you again, for both your sakes.

He sighed and let the bag sway gently under his weight.

Breathless and sore, Noah let himself fall back onto the mattress he slept on every night. It was still early morning, but he just needed a moment to rest.

He lay there, one arm draped over his stomach, the other flung out beside him, trying not to think too hard about anything.

And then he felt it, something soft brushing against his leg.

At first, he didn’t move. Just blinked up at the ceiling, letting a tired, amused smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, Alpine.”

A quiet meow answered him.

A small white kitten climbed onto the mattress, and then up Noah’s chest, finally curling into a perfect little circle right against his chest. She purred immediately.

Noah lifted one hand, still wrapped from the bag work, and gently scratched behind Alpine’s ear. The kitten leaned into the touch, eyes already fluttering closed.

It had been about three months since Alpine first showed up. Just a scrawny, half-feral thing lurking near the building, bones too visible under patchy fur. Noah didn’t know where she’d come from, maybe abandoned by a family when they moved, maybe tossed away by a stray mother who couldn’t feed her.

He just saw her, so small and shaking, and left out a crust of bread that first day. The next day, it was half a can of tuna. Then a towel in the corner of the room. Then a name.

Now Alpine was basically his roommate.

Noah didn’t have much. Not by a long shot.

People tended to think that when he won a fight, he walked away with some huge pile of cash. That wasn’t true. The organizers took most of the money, the crowd bet against each other, and what Noah ended up with was just enough to keep from starving in that abandoned building, and maybe afford the occasional new piece of clothing.

But what little he did have, he shared. A corner of the mattress, old blankets, and sometimes the last dollar in his pocket, traded for cheap cat food at the bodega two blocks away. It was worth it.

Because Alpine was soft, and warm, and didn’t ask questions. And on the days Noah could barely stand to look in the mirror, the kitten still climbed into his lap and purred like she was safe.

Like maybe he wasn’t a total lost cause.

The first time Alpine slept curled up on Noah’s chest, it really caught him off guard. He’d just gotten back from a fight, sore and half-asleep on the mattress when he felt something small and warm settle against him. At first, he thought he was imagining it, but then he heard the soft purring.

The tiny creature had found her little place on him. She looked at him once, blinked slow, then tucked herself in and didn’t move. And Noah just lay there, completely still, because for the first time in a long while, something had chosen to stay close to him.

And that became kind of an habit.

He let his head sink deeper into the thin pillow, Alpine rising and falling with every slow breath.

Noah closed his eyes for a moment.

Just as he was on the verge of falling asleep again, he heard an unusual noise coming from somewhere in the building.

It sounded like footsteps.

It had been six days.

Kole hadn’t brought up the fights again, or the betting. But you knew he was still talking to Dean, and some of the other guys who hung around that place. You heard the names, caught little pieces of conversations he didn’t realize you were paying attention to. And even if he was quiet now, you could tell he’d go back soon.

You woke up when you heard the front door click shut. Kole leaving early for his shift at the warehouse.

You listened to his footsteps fade down the hall, then sat up and got ready. You pulled on jeans, your favorite old hoodie, slipped your phone into your pocket, and the bracelet. Then you headed out.

It took nearly an hour to get there. Back to the part of the city where the fight had taken place. The drive felt longer than it was, probably because you kept thinking about what you were even doing. You had no plan. No address. No reason to believe he’d be anywhere near the place at this hour. It wasn’t even nine in the morning.

You parked a little way down the street, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. The area didn’t feel like the kind of place where people should linger if they didn’t belong.

The buildings here were tired. Not quite ruins, but definitely neglected, with graffiti stained every wall, many windows were either boarded up or broken, and the streets were cracked, patched in places where the city had given up halfway through fixing them. Trash collected in corners. It looked like the kind of place people forgot existed.

You got out of the car and looked around, unsure of where to even begin. The warehouse where the fight happened was quiet now, its entrance sealed shut with a heavy chain. You stared at it for a second, then sighed.

What were you going to do?

You had nothing to go on. Just a name. No number. No clue where he might be.

A sudden sound caught your attention.

Two kids, maybe ten years old, maybe younger, were playing with a soccer ball a few buildings down. They kicked it against a wall and chased after it with laughter. You hesitated for a second, then started walking toward them, keeping your hands in your pockets.

They noticed you when you got close, their game slowing as they eyed you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. You weren’t from around here. That much was obvious. You could see it in their guarded expressions.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying your best not to sound like someone they should run from. “Can I ask you something real quick?”

They looked at each other. "Sure."

You hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and asked, “Do you happen to know a guy named Noah Sebastian? Tall, dark hair, lots of tattoos?”

That sounded so stupid.

The two kids exchanged quick glances, whispering back and forth just out of your hearing. After a moment, one of them looked up and asked cautiously, “Why are you looking for him?”

“He lost something. I just want to give it back to him.”

They muttered between themselves again, then the other kid nodded and pointed down the street toward a worn-down building a little ways off, but still clearly visible from where you stood.

“He usually hangs out there,” the first one said, watching you carefully.

You nodded. “Thank you so much.”

They gave a small, almost shy smile in return, and you turned toward the building they’d indicated, feeling more and more anxious.

You reached it in some minutes. The paint was peeling, it looked covered in dirt, and the heavy metal door was firmly shut. You pressed your hand against it, testing the handle, but it didn’t budge.

For a moment, you wondered if maybe he’d found a key somewhere inside and locked it behind him. Now the door was closed, and you didn’t even know if he was inside at all. Standing there, you felt a sudden feeling of uncertainty, what if you’d come all this way for nothing?

Then your eyes caught a window, cracked open just enough to slip through. It was a little too high to reach from the ground… unless…

Before you fully registered the thought, you found yourself dragging a rusty trash bin across the cracked pavement. At nine in the morning on your day off, here you were, preparing to climb into an abandoned building through a window. That was probably the moment you realized you had lost your mind.

You steadied the bin, climbed up carefully, and then pulled yourself through the opening, landing on your feet on the other side.

You looked around. The space was vast, shadows stretching into dark corners, with long, empty corridors leading off in several directions. The faint echoes of your footsteps bounced softly from the high, cracked ceilings.

You paused, listening. And there it was, a faint noise coming from somewhere deeper inside, from a larger room down one of the hallways.

You hadn’t even stepped fully inside when you heard his voice. He sounded calm.

“I know you’re here.”

You froze for a second, then stepped in.

There he was, standing tall in the middle of the room, shadowed by the soft golden morning light filtering through the broken windows. He looked different from the last time you saw him. Definitely in better shape, wearing a white tank this time. The swelling on his face had gone down, the bruises faded just a bit, and he stood steady on his feet. Did fighters healed quicker than other people?

“Hi.”

The faintest smirk appeared on his lips.

“I thought I told you it was better if you stayed away from all this."

You shrugged lightly, trying not to look as out of breath as you felt.

“Yeah, well. I’ve never been great at listening. My elementary school teacher always told me that.”

That earned a soft huff of amusement from him. “So you grew up breaking into buildings on your free time?”

“Only when I’m trying to return lost property,” you said, pulling the bracelet from your pocket and holding it up between two fingers. “Thought maybe you’d want this back."

He blinked at it, silent for a moment. Then, “Didn’t expect to see that again. I thought your boyfriend was already showing it off as an extra win.”

“Didn’t expect to be crawling through a window to meet an underground fighter, and here we are.”

When he reached you, his fingers brushed yours as he took the bracelet. You felt it in your chest more than you should have.

“Thanks,” he said, voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here for that.”

You watched him secure the bracelet around his wrist with one hand and shrugged. “I didn’t come all the way out here just for this.”

He gave you a look.

You shifted your weight.

“You’ve been stuck in my head for six days for some reason and it was getting really annoying. So I wanted to check if you were actually still alive.”

His brows lifted, clearly not expecting that. “Wow. That might be the nicest insult I’ve ever gotten.”

You smiled. “I’m full of surprises.”

He looked at you for a moment longer, then he laughed, and something about the sound of it made your chest ache in the weirdest, warmest way. He looked younger when he smiled like that. Softer. Almost boyish.

“Well,” he said, still grinning, “If I knew breaking my face and almost chocking on my own blood in a dark alley was all it took to get a pretty girl's attention, I would’ve done it sooner.”

Had he really just flirted with you? Did he actually call you pretty?

“Please don’t,” you said quickly. “Your face is just starting to look like a face again. Would be a shame to ruin the progress.”

His grin widened at that. “So you do think my face is worth saving.”

You scoffed. “Don’t push it.”

He made a show of pretending to think. “No, yeah, I think I will. You broke into a building for me. I'm invested now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the corner of your mouth from tugging upward. “I mainly broke into a building to give you the bracelet back.”

“Right. Of course,” he said, slowly. “That makes way more sense. Has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been thinking about me for six days.”

Your eyes narrowed, playful. “You’re a lot cockier when your nose isn’t kinda broken and you're losing blood all over.”

He chuckled again, and then, after a moment, he tilted his head like he’d just remembered something.

“Speaking of that,” he said, and turned away.

You watched as he walked toward the far corner of the room, where a big gym bag rested against the wall. He crouched down beside it, and as he moved, he placed a hand on his ribs, a gesture that hinted they still hurt, though he did a good job hiding the pain.

He unzipped it, and rummaged around for a moment. When he stood again, he had something in his hands.

He walked back toward you, holding it up to show it was clean now.

Your shirt.

“I took it to a laundromat,” he said, holding it out. “Heavy-duty wash. Twice.”

You blinked, reaching for it automatically. It was soft, smelled faintly of detergent. You looked back up at him.

“So,” you said slowly, squinting at him. “You were hoping to see me again. Or you wouldn't have bothered."

He smirked, but shook his head. “Nah. But I figured I’d see you again sooner or later. You looked like the stubborn type.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Your gaze wandered around the space.

He noticed, then scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” he said, half a laugh in his voice, “I wasn’t expecting company. Didn’t exactly clean up.”

You gave a small smile. “It’s okay. Do you live here?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You nodded slowly, not quite sure what to say as your eyes lingered on the mattress.

“It’s… not exactly a palace,” he added, almost like he was trying to make you feel more comfortable. “But it’s mine, I guess.”

“I’ve definitely seen worse,” you said.

He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

You gave a light shrug. “There was this one motel Kole dragged me to on a road trip. Bedbugs. Shower didn’t work. I had to sleep in a hoodie with the drawstrings pulled so tight I looked like a turtle.”

He chuckled and it echoed a little in the open space, as that boyish look flashed over him again.

You were just about to say something else when a sudden, soft meow came from somewhere behind Noah.

Your eyes shifted past him, and a moment later, a white cat emerged from somewhere in room, fluffy and a bit dirty. She padded over without hesitation, brushing up against Noah’s leg in a slow motion before moving toward you.

Your entire expression shifted.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, crouching slightly. “She’s so cute. Are you kidding me?” You held out your fingers. “Look at her little face. I’m gonna cry.”

Noah huffed out something that might’ve been a little laugh. “She’s Alpine.”

You looked up at him and then at the kitten again. “Hi, Alpine,” you said softly, and crouched all the way down to run your hand along her back.

“She’s so pretty,” you added, glancing up at him again. “You didn’t tell me you had company here.”

“She showed up some months ago,” he said. “Didn’t leave. I figured if she wanted to stay that bad, she could.”

Your hand paused on Alpine’s head. “Smart girl.”

“She eats better than I do.”

You smiled to yourself and gave Alpine another affectionate scratch.

“So, how did you find me? How did you know I lived here?” He asked as something caught the cat's attention across the room and she scurred away.

“Two kids were playing with a ball on the street, like a block over." You said as you stood up again, "I asked them if they’d seen someone tall and covered in tattoos named Noah Sebastian and one of them just pointed this way.”

Noah let out a groan and dragged a hand down his face.

“Miles and Theo,” he muttered. “Of course. I’ve told them, like, a hundred times that if anyone comes around asking about me, they’re supposed to say they’ve never seen me in their lives.”

You laughed. “They weren’t very convincing liars.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“How do you even know them?”

“They don't live far, and their mom used to clean the fight place for a while,” he explained. “Last year. Just a few nights a week. One day she had to go into the city for something. She asked me to watch the kids for a few hours.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I figured it’d be a nightmare. But they were actually... kinda cool. Little goblins. Thought I was some kind of superhero for knowing how to throw a punch.”

You tilted your head. “So you stayed in touch?”

“Sort of.” He shrugged. “I often run into them on the street or at the gas station where we buy snacks. Taught Theo how to wrap his hands without cutting off circulation. Now they think I’m the coolest person alive because I let them swear when their mom’s not around.”

You snorted. “That's irresponsible adulting.”

“I mean, I try my best.”

“Sounds like they really like you, though.” you said, "And kids are pretty good judges of character.”

He looked over at you, something unreadable passing through his expression. A flicker of surprise, maybe. Or discomfort.

“Yeah, well,” he said after a second, voice quieter, “they don’t know me that well.”

You didn't know what to say. You didn’t know him, you didn’t know his story or how he ended up fighting, and you couldn’t pretend you were in any position to judge him.

He slowly walked over to the mattress, crouched down, peeled the hand wraps from his knuckles, and tossed them onto the rumpled blankets with a careless flick of his wrist. You watched him move, the easy tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles moved under his tattoos.

It struck you that, for all the sarcastic and smart remarks, there was something about him that felt… held together with duct tape and thread.

“You don’t give yourself much credit, do you?” you asked.

He didn't answer right away. Just sat down on the edge of the mattress and rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing his palms together absently like he needed something to do with his hands.

“Credit’s for people who earn it,” he said eventually, not looking at you.

You took a slow step closer. “You think you haven’t?”

He gave a humorless laugh under his breath, then finally looked up at you. “I don’t know what version of me those kids see. Or you, for that matter. But it’s not the whole story.”

You hesitated for a moment, then asked quietly, “Why do you fight, Noah?"

He stiffened.

“Let’s not do this, okay?” he said, voice firm. “We’re not friends. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. You gave me the bracelet and I gave you your shirt. I think it’s better if this stops now.”

And just like that, his playful, almost flirty way of talking to you was conpletely gone. He sounded like somebody else.

You nodded slowly, but couldn’t let it drop that easily. “If it’s because of the money—”

He cut you off with a sharp glance.

“I know people,” you continued, ignoring the warning. “In the city. Nick from the mechanic shop is looking for someone. Jolly from the music store too. There are jobs you could do. Things better than… fighting.”

He gave you a look that was equal parts amused and skeptical, and suddenly the friendly way he had spoken to you until a few minutes before had completely vanished.

“What makes you think I want to stop?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “I guess I just assumed…”

“That this was a last resort?” he said, and there was something sharp under the words. “That I’d crawl out of this fucking life the second someone dangled a job in front of me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, then closed it again.

“Noah, I didn’t mean—”

He stood, slow but sudden.

“I still fight" he said flatly, "because I still want to,”

You searched his face, hoping for some flicker of softness, of humor, but there was none now.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, tone clipped. “But I’m not looking to be saved.”

You stayed silent for a moment.

“I wasn’t trying to save you,” you said, then. “I just thought… maybe you deserved a way out. If you ever wanted one.”

He let out a breath. “I don’t deserve shit,” he said. “And definitely not from you.”

You felt your chest tighten. “I really don’t understand.”

He snapped, the words coming fast and louder than before.

“Then stop trying to!”

The silence that followed his words felt so loud. His eyes were hard now, jaw clenched, like he regretted saying it, but not enough to take it back. He ran a hand through his hair.

You didn’t flinch. You just looked at him, quietly, and said, “Okay.”

A moment of silence filled the space between you. “Maybe it’s better if I leave.” You added.

“Maybe it is,” he said quietly.

You glanced toward the main door at the end of the hallway, then looked back at him.

“Do you have the key?”

Without responding, he turned toward the mattress. He crouched, reached for the worn bag at the foot of the "bed", and rummaged through it. A moment later, he pulled out the small keyring and tossed it toward you.

You caught it in the air without thinking.

The cold metal pressed into your palm, and for a second, you just stared down at it.

You thought maybe you should say something, maybe just "bye."

But nothing came out.

So you turned toward the door, your clean shirt still in one of your hands, without looking back, even if you felt his eyes on you all the time.

You dropped the keys on the floor beside the door after you unlocked it, and as your hand touched the doorknob, a single thought echoed in your head.

Maybe you should’ve just kept the bracelet and stayed home.

As you closed the door behind you, you heard the dull, rhythmic thud of a fist slamming into the punching bag, again and again, each hit louder.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08 @geminigirlfromfinland @bloody-spades @rumoured-whispers @astronoids

Fresh bruises tags: @1toreyouapart @respectfulrebel @dragoncopper @overmydeadbodysblog @fear-its-beauty @xslavicprincess @concreteangel92 @super-btstrash-posts @pipidoll @pipidoll @bluehairpunklol @tktstomydwnfall @jesuisunchaton @brutallysoftmuse

[atomicpirateperson]

how would you describe robs personality? im currently on my yearly tawog hyperfixation and i love hearing people yap about my favorite character

HEE HEE HEEEEEE >0)

so first of all, i think one of Rob's most unique and defining traits is how serious he is. he definitely has a smug sense of humor and isn't against silliness, but he just doesn't take many things lightly. as a result, he's never lazy and is always very, VERY determined to get what he wants.

this relates to his habit of being extra and melodramatic, which is also a key character trait for him. in fact, it's shown in one of his first lines (after being caught in The Nobody).

he might not be the first person you think of when you hear "emotional", but honestly, he is. he usually embodies the "fight" of the fight-or-flight response because he doesn't let his guard down easily; he has trust issues for sure.

the trust issues in question have been shown as early as The Pony. Rob was pretty quick to assume (accurately) that his "friends" gumball and darwin didn't remember him at all. this was probably caused by his low self-esteem as well, which seemed to be there long before the series of void incidents.

moving on, it's a bit difficult to say whether Rob is an introvert, extrovert, or something else. we know he's not shy and doesn't have social anxiety (unless there's a particular reason for awkwardness, e.g. The Ex) and even seems to enjoy attention at times. despite this, he spends a lot of time alone and can even be socially oblivious. he has a habit of acting like people know what he's talking about when they don't.

i believe he's an extrovert, but he feels discouraged from trying to make friends, due to his aforementioned trust issues, low self-esteem and bad reputation.

on a surface level, i know "low self-esteem" contradicts the arrogant, selfish behavior of "Dr. Wrecker", but we know that Rob hates himself. in the face of complete, undeniable failure, all Rob thinks is "this is proof that i'm worthless". it's seen The Nemesis where all 563 of his traps fail, then in The Rerun after he winds up in the void. in the latter episode, he's so consumed by self-hatred that he isn't just apathetic to being rescued, he avoids it at all costs.

basically, Dr. Wrecker has the same motivations as Rob, but he's an alter ego, a self-caricature. Rob doesn't really think he deserves to steal a million dollars, or flood Elmore just for fun.

of course, Rob is also completely self-aware. not only does he know he's fictional, but he was able to hijack Cartoon Network. that would be another thing that could discourage him from making friends, but that leads me into the next thing: he cares about people anyway!

sometimes, the wellbeing of some people isn't his top priority (like in The Future when he's working for a greater good), but he cares. he never hurts others without some kind of reason, even if that reason is not justifiable. and despite his whole "revenge" motivation, Rob can be incredibly forgiving and patient, even with people he supposedly hates like Gumball.

still, he isn't as mature as he might seem. no kid his age should be fully independent with no support, but he is. he's prone to making impulsive decisions that end up being dumb in the long run. and of course, his way of doing the whole villain thing is very childish.

and that's it! i can't think of anything else to say lol. thank you for this ask, i LOVE to yap

[taintedsoul-if]

I'm confused with the snippets so we can get to the streests ragriels, yesenia, her mother and the venom staff? Is mc the head of OH family now? Like yes T can marry Yesenia but they are not part of Lady Anaya household as they don't have their blood nor is legitimazed by the head of the house. Also, is T really a Ro? Because it's seems more as a fling than one

If I’m understanding your question correctly—yes, the MC will be able to kick out the loving family of three along with their servants 🚮.

As for becoming the head: not yet. The mantle will be passed on to the MC in four months, but yes, the MC is the inheritor of the [surname2] household’s wealth.

To clarify:

Yesenia is NOT related to Lady Anaya or the [surname2] household.

The ONLY child Lady Anaya ever had was the original host.

Now, regarding T—yes, T is a RO. Anon, please keep in mind this IF will have 16 chapters. T has a fiancée who is currently watching them like a hawk 24/7. That’s the reason why T hasn’t had a cutaway scene yet.

Which brings me to my question for you: what do you personally define as an RO? 🤔 In the disclaimer, I also noted this story is a slow burn. At this point, the MC may feel pangs of sadness, but immediately giving googly eyes to the person responsible for the original host’s death — that’s just not going to happen for now.

Please remember—pacing is necessary to perfect every storyline in an IF/novel/book/whatever. What I personally wouldn’t enjoy reading, I won’t subject another person to either. 😫

[bewitched-hours]

hiiiiiiii againnn :33

could i request some platonic headcanons with your oc ? she seems very neat and silly ;0

the whole "stars as eyes, granting wishes" thing really reminds me of "wishing on the first star at night", which i used to do all the time as a kid ^_^ so i would very much like to be their friend!! (and hey maybe if i ever get around to making my own oc, they could be friends :3)

also, about your post about private servers, if you did a server for those games id totally join! i also havent played forsaken or dandy's world because of social anxiety, so im in the same boat as you :,)

-maomao anon

I'd love to talk more about Astra, she's like my silly little daughter that I love so much!! And I'm glad people seem to like the idea of a server so depending on how the poll does, it might just be an extra so the 100 follower special could have 3 events to it lol

Without further ado, reader's pronouns shall be They/Them~

To start off, Astra is mostly a nightcore girly so if you show interest in the music she listens be prepared for a lot of nightcore songs.

She would be happy to let you cuddle or rest up against her if you want. Doesn't matter who you are. She's a good pillow? She'll take it happily.

Astra would be ECSTATIC if you asked her for help in the kitchen or even ask to team up during rounds. You get protection/feedback and she gets a friend! Win/Win!

She's mostly a listener but ask her about anything related to stars or what she used to do before this hellish realm, be prepared to hear about the wishes she'd grant, the stories she witnessed and the occasional karma she'd deal out.

Wanna gift Astra something? It's now among her favourite treasures stored inside of a small pocket dimension so she can make sure it never dusts, fades or breaks. The pocket dimension keeps it perfectly intact and isn't touched by time so nothing can happen to these treasures and she can take them out to show off whenever.

And she WILL show off to others if someone decides to challenge her relationship with you. (i.e "Were you the one who got this super awesome mug? Didn't think so!")

However, don't ask her about her parents... She still feels guilty that she can't even remember their faces.

Astra would let you sleep with her(nothing freaky) if you wanted a buddy to help you sleep better. She's just happy to know someone finds that kinda comfort in her.

She can(and will) mimic nature sounds from back when she was a deity. Need a rain ambience? She's got it! Some owl hoots? Sure! Even a flowing waterfall? She's ready.

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[wizardelio]

Whatttt Is your Favoriteeee...

• Byler Gate/theory?

• Byler Proof?

• Byler moment?

• ST character? (Mby Ur top 5?)

• byler/miwi headcanon?

• Duo in the Show? (Exept byler)

• Line in Stranger Things?

• ST season?

• byler related Song?

OK SOOOO.

my favourite byler gate is probably flickergate. it was the first one i heard about and i just think it's a great idea! my favourite byler theory is that mike is going to confess his love for will in ep6, because of the theory that camazotz is a reference to a novel called "a wrinkle in time", where the main characters basically defeat evil with the power of love.

for byler proof... we have so much to choose from, but in my opinion, the most obvious one is the california plot in season 5. because if you think about it, what was the point of it? exploring will's feelings for mike? that would make no sense if they were just going to make mike reject him in the end! (also the van scene taking a whole day to shoot is pretty big evidence...).

my favourite byler moment is when mike tells will about the day that they met, when will was possessed in season 2. it makes me emotional everytime i watch it! i also love their fight at the rink-o-mania in season 4!

my favourite stranger things character is mike. i think he's such a well written character and i also relate to him in a lot of ways. my second favourite is will, for the same reasons. i think my third favourite is el. i love her, she's just been through so much and all i want is for her to be happy! i also love dustin!! he's so kind to everyone but he's also just a very fun character!

i don't know if i have any headcanons... when i read fanfiction, i love jealous mike. but this isn't really a headcanon. for example in season 2, when max wanted to join the party, if you look into why he didn't want her to, you can see that it's probably because he was jealous about the fact that will seemed so interested in her. also when mike asks will about his painting in the airport scene in season 4... that boy was jealous!!!

this may be an unpopular opinion, but i love the el/mike duo! i don't ship mileven, but i do think that they have very cute scenes together, especially in the first 2 seasons. of course, i love the more popular duos like steve and dustin and robin and steve, but i'd really love to see robin and will together in season 5. from what we've seen in the date announcement teaser, they're going to have some scenes together, so i'm really excited to see them interact!!

i can't pick only one line from the whole show, but i loved when hopper said "make mistakes, learn from 'em. and when life hurts you, because it will, remember the hurt. the hurt is good. it means you're out of that cave." in his letter at the end of season 3. really made me emotional!

for my favourite season... once again, it's hard to only pick one. i love season 2, so i think it's my favourite! i love the lumax plot, discovering steve and dustin's friendship, the possession of will, etc. season 4 is a close second though!

i have made multiple byler playlists over the years, and i've been listening to my s5 byler one a lot recently. i love "some protector" by role model, i think it really fits them! "i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me)" by whitney houston is also perfect for them!

thanks for asking me all those amazing questions!!!

[sylvieserene]

This was incredibly insightful and an amazing read!! THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭❤️

I really loved the Purelily connection theory cuz with all that now laid out?? It makes so much more sense.

I really like Greek mythology but I think the Persephone-Hades theory is incredibly interesting.

It matches with the motif of SM-ES relationship because in most depictions, Hades tricked her into coming to the underworld and trapping her forever.

It was for his interest and his interest alone.

Similarly, we already have the situation where ES directly says SM had tricked her and he always acts in his own interest.

So it def checks out.

Not to mention, the decors actually highlight a very important detail.

Notice how ES is crying remembering a "fond" memory? And then SM and his flowers also have a crying motif?

If you notice carefully one of the guild items, even PV has a Vanilla orchid locket with a "fond memory" encased in it and we all know it's related to him and WL somehow and I think everyone knows he loves her so-

What if ES and SM lost their sanity through the tears? Each drop that fell, along with it fell their sanity.

Each tear falling to ground and blooming into a flower as the seed of it came from a really beautiful thing but that thing is now over and just like fragments of broken glass, it's falling down. It might look beautiful on the ground but if you touch it trying to pick it up, you'll hurt yourself.

We already know corruption definitely had its stages and SS was the last one to fall and they contacted EF asap when they realised they're next and to plot out a contingency against themselves.

What if ES and SM had a loving situation but as they started corrupting, they started changing and being toxic with eachother?

Perhaps after one bitter final clash, they called it quits but later cried their soul out and maybe, that was the final straw. Maybe that loss of connection is what drove them insane fully and turned them into full beasts.

Perhaps they were grieving the time they were completely fine and thinking of their fond moments together in what's their final moments of clarity?

Cuz even BS is shown to have slight moments of sanity for the final time before going fully insane.

Wont it make sense for these two as well?

Maybe, after all the work stress and everything, they finally cracked and that final crack of their relationship is what broke them truly.

It could explain why ES says reality is incredibly painful and she can't bear with it. She doesn't even want to accept it. She still doesn't want to accept that what she lost still pains her.

Same for SM.

Perhaps that is why they are desperate to move on with anyone because they still can't accept what happened.

They don't want to accept reality.

Perhaps...that is why, even with all that denial, they still keep finding eachother cuz deep down, they still pay attention to what the other has to say and even make time for eachother no matter how tightly scheduled they are. They want to be together but due to everything, they are way too different to be and now have different priorities.

They are different ppl now and while both know both are atrocious, they still entertain eachother.

Perhaps, due to this abrupt seperation, ES has simply internalised the pain and looked for alternatives. It could be why she asks HB indirectly if what happiness she's been cultivating is wrong cuz deep down, ES knows it's not real. What she's seeking in HB, is merely to fill a gap that was left from before. That is exactly why she finds reality agonising as if she feels like she'll be torn apart cuz she's gotta admit she also had faults in their relationship and same for SM.

SM copes by being petty and goofing around, even trying to project his pain onto PV to get him on his side while ES copes by trying to be nice (atleast in her mind) and keep HB company and in care, trying her best to provide understanding.

Perhaps, both of them do what they feel like they haven't done in their past relationship to make it survive.

Maybe SM wasn't goofy, instead he was inattentive and lied about it and maybe ES started being not nice or not showing any understanding due to it and let herself fall into his lies from time to time and most importantly....they both started lying and continued to lie to themselves about it until their breaking point.

It could be why both of them find reality hurtful and seek comfort in lies. It could be why they now call those grieved, painful tears "happy tears".

It could be why both of them didn't want to accept reality because they both gotta realise that they both screwed up majorly and admitting their flaws but maybe their egos or maybe their biases won't allow them.

Why should they after all? There's no shortage of flowers in a garden.

They'll just a get replacement.

And perhaps...

The day they do stop lying to themselves and apologise atleast to eachother, that's the day they'll finally be free or have another shot.

But until then, their story will forever remain tragic.

But hey, it's a theory.

A CRK THEORY!

Hey out of curiosity you think about shadowsugar now that the new episode and we have an interaction for these two?

The canon dynamic rn came off to me as bitter exes/divorced couple who still are not over it.

Pre-Awakening update, I was speculating Shadow Milk Cookie to be in love with Eternal Sugar Cookie and vise versa and when he showed up as Lady in Azure, I had a theory that maybe

1. Devsis just dropped an easter egg

2. If he's involved in the story then maybe he has come to meet with ES to maybe inform that he has PV in the bag (cuz the episodes are happening at the same time and dude can conjure up portals so maybe he just came to boast) and then ES says "Me too!~" and they have a good laugh about scamming their other half off their soul jam once and for all

3. Dude would probably join HB as that disguise to get to Crispia so that he can stalk PV again.

I was sorta there with theory 2 but at the same, not really so leaving that behind...the bit he showed up was shocking to say the least lol

Let's take a quick look at their conversation at some of the integral parts of the conversation:

At the beginning, it may come off as a normal statement for ES. But pay attention to what she says "Don't tell me you seek happiness from me?"

This can imply he has done so in the past.

Also this dialogue:

It's the classic thing most exes, who you ended things badly, will say when they meet you again lol

"God you look awful."

ES is also doing the same here lmao

And SM takes it graciously cuz he's used to it lol

They both know she doesn't mean it.

But what adds the interesting twist in the dynamic is this piece of dialogue right here:

ES explicitly states she will not tolerate his "tricks". This could heavily suggest that SM has scammed/harmed her directly or indirectly in some way before which may have caused a rift between them.

To further illustrate the point,

"After all we've been through together?"

This dialogue is CRUCIAL in understanding their relationship.

Not to mention, since the episodes are all happening at the same time canonically, SM visited ONLY her even now. He didn't visit the other beasts. He's visiting her in a vulnerable moment.

Right after the moment he failed.

This actively CONFIRMS that they are very close. Or to be precise, were close. ES use to be very gracious and warm to him BUT-

Something changed.

And we get the reason right in the next dialogue:

SM lied to her or at the very least, manipulated her until she caught him. He used her and possibly took advantage of her.

SM recognising this quickly changes topics to the other awful stuff he did like to move attention away from that such as:

However, by the last dialogue, you can see ES growing impatient with that manipulation again cuz he's moving away from what she's saying and she doesn't really have the time to call him out so she just wants him to leave so that she can go back to HB.

However, SM is not done with her.

He doesn't wanna leave yet. He wants her to not think about what he did with her but instead focus on the other atrocities but then-

ES confirms what I said earlier:

They were close.

Very close.

To the point, they know eachother intimately even.

ES quite literally sees through his act and that's exactly why she dislikes him now. She doesn't like being manipulated by someone like him and being taken advantage of/used as a pawn.

This directly confirms that he has done so with her in the past. He has lied, decieved and manipulated her subtly to use her to his own benefit.

She knows this and knows now is not an exception either.

Which is why, she tells him to get out cuz she's got work to do.

And what he says next further solidifies this dynamic.

This interaction goes beyond just a conversation between exes.

SM and ES both know the fact that the other is very toxic and a bad influence.

ES is capable of manipulation and lying just like SM.

Both are red flags and they both know it.

But they are still bitter because they once had a good, happy relationship until one of them changed and that...shattered it and got them seperated.

That could explain why these two are arguably the MOST obsessed with their counterparts.

They really want to get that sense of connection, that understanding they once had with someone else...which is why they desperately want their "other half" to stay.

It is a way of coping, you can say even.

That is why, when SM got rejected in his endeavour, he went back to ES. His comfort spot or a "safe" zone.

Cuz they were close and even if he ruined it, like the toxic guy he is, he still reaches out to the one person he cared and cares for in his own twisted way.

And ES....doesnt want it. Not anymore.

She's found her happiness in HB who is a straightforward, simple person who has no double meaning in her words.

She doesnt want to go back to someone like him even though some of the qualities she admonishes him for are within her as well; manipulation and lying to be exact.

And that is the exact reason why SM is so bitter about it.

Now, not only had he lost the person he tried to move on with but that same equally toxic ex found a partner when he failed miserably and THAT PARTNER ACTUALLY DIDN'T RUN AWAY AND STAYED?! He's salty about it lol that's also why he basically said "Well you can be just a phase for her. Keep an eye on her LOL" while ES basically replies with "You're wrong. MY one is different than yours. THEY ARE MINE FOR LIFE."

That's also why SM is basically bitterly laughing at her before going off:

And as much as ES pretends she doesn't care about what he says, she still does as evidenced by here:

She does start paying more attention to her.

And if you saw the end of chapter then you can see her desperation for HB to not go.

Because she doesnt want to accept that none of this was real and that the sense of happiness she found from their relationship was nothing but for coping the loss of the past one.

She doesn't want to accept reality.

That is why she is hysterical when HB says she needs to leave.

So yeah! TLDR, ShadowSugar were DEFINITELY a thing in the past.

I think this is further evidenced by the fact that her garden still has remnants of it. It's still ridden with snakes which is SM's thing and goes against her aesthetic. Not to mention, despite being in a time crunch, she still makes out time to meet him when she realises it's him and SM goes to her of all beast cookies.

It definitely means something.

Also the fact, they have this conversation:

The first one especially.

It is a weird thing to discuss with ppl you don't trust or care about.

That particular set of dialogue is not something you talk with anyone about. It's unless they do trust the other person to not leak this trust thing that you discuss if you trust your own team mates.

It could further illustrate the fact that ES and SM eventually broke off due to trust issues because if two ppl in a relationship constantly gaslight, manipulate and lie to the other...Trust issues will rise at very least.

But that doesn't really stop them from reaching out to eachother still cuz they both know, they both are awful. They're petty and bitter over what the other did while also knowing they have done worse or maybe even better.

It's inverse Purelily basically (could be why their colours are reversed).

One is built on trust, truth, love, connection and respect; the other is built up on distrust, lies, hate, manipulation and disrespect.

[starlingfawn]

as i watched you return from the rising water's edge

[remcadll]

Wow crazy how it’s been two months since mha ended. what the hell was that btw

[clutching-our-plurals]

Short answer: I first felt like something was off when I experienced what I now recognize was a very long, blurry switch, that lasted about an hour. I had a friend on the phone to try and ground me. It didn't quite work, but it gave me a lot of useful information in the morning.

The last straw was later that year, when I was having a Menty B (shaking, ugly crying, the works) and one of my parts started talking to me, coached me out of the breakdown and got me to take care of myself, and then we just... talked for a few hours. You don't exactly ignore that. I got help.

Also, I didn't remember this at the time, but I know now that previous hosts had suspicions or even full realizations that we were a system and kind of... got swapped out for a new host, or had those memories taken? For knowing more than they were supposed to. I'm apparently not allowed to say any more about that (i appreciate the passion for internet safety but this is hell on my interest in research.) Has anyone else had that happen?

Long version of the finding out story ⬇️

For us, or... for me? I guess– The first time I recall being aware that something was up was a summer. I was up late after a really stressful day (stressful stressful shit had been happening for like a week at that point) and I didn't feel like myself.

I just couldn't stay present, I wasn't tired, but I felt deeply distressed, and I kept having minutes at a time where I felt like was like... my body was moving without me. I wrestled for control against whatever was happening and called a friend. All I was sure about in that moment was that something PTSD related was happening and it wouldn't be a good idea to let it hqppen when I was all alone.

My mouth said things I wasn't saying, I recounted details of a traumatic event I didn't KNOW. Stuff I didn't REMEMBER. before then.

It's all kind of fuzzy, but I looked back on texts from that night once I woke up in the morning to check whether it was some weird dream or not, and asked my friend what I said, and half of it was shit I didn't recall at all. I was thoroughly freaked out.

I shoved it under the rug. I didn't investigate. But that strange feeling like I SHOULD. I SHOULD investigate really stuck with me.

Later that year, early in the fall, I was in a serious mental health low and had a big mental breakdown. Ugly crying was involved. I was remembering things that I didn't know happened to me and it was extremely distressing. I was spiraling pretty bad, until I... heard a voice? It wasn't quite like hearing someone talk to me out loud, it was more like feeling someone thinking words at you. Very clearly. Like the way you replay a sound you heard once in your mind, except it was a voice. A voice that wasn't mine.

They talked me down, got me to take care of myself. I was freaking out, but at the same time something felt right. I felt... whole? And that sounds silly but i really did feel like some part of me I lost came home, you know? They told me their name, and that they were happy to meet me, and that it was hard to get people (other headmates) to agree to let this happen, but they managed it. I didn't completely understand it, but hey, i felt kind of crazy while that was happening so, not my highest priority.

They were there in front more often, after that. Helping me through the world, introducing me to new headmates, teaching me how to access headspace, how to understand who was fronting and who was near front. Now, in hindsight, I recognize that it was fusion. Slow, over months and months. First they were cofronting more often, then a lot, then all the time.

I just kind of woke up one day... different? Alone. With almost this... what can best be described as an "understanding" that they were a part of me now and I was a part of them... that they were gone and here and that I was (am? This is an abuse of verbage) us and I all at once.

I cried about it. It was scary not knowing who I was, and feeling alone after being with someone for so long. At the same time, though, I felt safe, and prepared to take care of us. I understood more about the system in some ways, and less in others, after that. Something to do with the sort of "role shift" that our fusion caused. A little bit of system reorganization, persay.

I'm definitely curious about other's experiences with fusion, though, if anyone is down to share experiences about that.

Hey fellow plurals, are you up to sharing some experiences?

We're curious! How did you first become aware of your system?

If that's too vague, what first caused you to suspect something was up? And what was the last straw where you were like "oh we can't just ignore this"? If you had a moment like that.

[wewontbesleeping]

"I've never wanted to make an album full of happy songs. I don't think that's ever going to happen."