#i literally don't even know who this man is

[rex-rambles]

➤ OBLIVIOUS | F1 SMAU + FIC

pairing: f1 grid x albon!reader (platonic!)

summary: the f1 drivers make the mistake of saying they're always aware of their surroundings, so you start an Instagram account to prove them wrong...by seeing how long it takes them to realize you're taking photos of them.

warnings: none!

➤ MASTERLIST

Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63, and others

visacashapprb Do your F1 drivers know when we're recording them? Or anyone, for that matter? Seems like the answer is yes! 

↳ yn_albon really @/alexalbon? 

↳ alex_albon I am very observant, thank you very much 

↳ yn_albon we'll see about that

↳ fan44 there's literally paparazzi footage of the drivers every other day, of course they notice, they just pretend like they don't

_

Liked by yn_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers the guys said they know when they're being photographed, my camera roll says otherwise

↳ mclar_win Oscar's side eye is crazy 

↳ brocedes this HAS to be like George or someone proving a point

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers George wishes he was me

↳ fan16 this is either a prank or a stalker...watch out guys

_

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers first up: dumb and dumber 🧡 i should start timing how long it takes for them to notice 

↳ alex_albon if I end up in one of these, I'm telling everyone 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers no promises

↳ f1_fantatic alex, our chronically online king

↳ fan44 oscar and lando together = fork found in kitchen

-

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers in the lead as always, Max Verstappen comes in first by taking two days to notice!

↳ mclar_win max always has to be first, doesn't he?

↳ fan44 no wonder he looks so happy 

↳ mad_maxxx why is the second picture lowkey...

-

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers i got too cocky 😔 tried to go for the super close up and got caught :( current record: three days

↳ fan16 so both Max and Charles now know your identity??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers they've already been sworn to secrecy

↳ carcarcar who could this be?? charles was happy to see them so it wasn't a stranger

↳ f1_fanatic i mean, alex is lurking in the likes 👀

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Liked by alex_albon, yn_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers idk what made him more mad, the fact that he crashed or the fact he caught me

↳ alex_albon we had a promise 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers i literally said no promises

↳ alex_albon get ready to give up this account 

↳ mclar_win it has to be George, right? 

↳ carcarcar if it were George he'd be smiling liked by oblivious_f1_drivers

-

Liked by lando, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers a week and a half for Mr. Lando Norris! i would've taken more but this man was too excited to catch me

↳ lando See? I'm very observant

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers it took you a week and a half to catch me

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers even alex got it in less time 

↳ alex_albon hey!

↳ georgerussell63 any chance I can beg for immunity?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers send me photos of oblivious drivers, and then maybe we'll talk

-

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers someone tipped him off...at least I snuck one in

↳ alex_albon 😇

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers we could've had something, alex 

↳ alex_albon you're the one who broke their promise 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I NEVER PROMISED

↳ alex_albon wait why are you that close to lance in the third photo 

↳ alex_albon answer your texts!!

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Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers what's this? oscar finally noticed? after TWO WEEKS? enjoy all the photos

↳ oscarpiastri listen we have a lot to do during race weeks 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers like pay attention to your photographers??

↳ oscarpiastri that's not even your job

↳ nicolepiastri so it's not just me being ignored?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/oscarpiastri text your mom or I'm stealing her

↳ oscarpiastri will do 🫡

↳ brocedes so we KNOW its not a photographer

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Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers looks like we're not the ONLY oblivious ones #/hacked #/alexandgeorgehaveyourphone #/thebetteralbon

↳ yn_albon GEORGE???

↳ georgerussell63 why are you mad at me?? be mad at alex!

↳ alex_albon yeah george, how could you do this?

↳ f1_fanatic the albon siblings causing trouble on track as usual 

↳ lando payback for having to look over my shoulder all week

-

You hold your hand out to Alex, who reluctantly drops your phone into your palm. Sometimes, you think, people forget you were actual siblings, who had just the same amount of fun annoying each other as any other pair of siblings in the world. The only difference, however, was that your brother happened to be a world-famous F1 driver, and you were a journalist trailing him around all day. 

So honestly? You were perfectly within your rights to post all those silly photos of him and his friends. After all, it was something to occupy you in the rare moments you weren't hearing about being an Albon, or growing up around all the drivers, or waiting for Alex to come to an interview ten minutes late because you couldn't really say anything about it.

"I can't believe you," You direct both towards Alex and George, checking to make sure they didn't mess with anything else on your phone. 

You had to give them some credit in their retaliation. Alex must have been sneaking photos of you all week, and then airdropped them to your phone to put onto your Instagram account. You'd never say that out loud, however.

Lord knows he didn't need the extra ego.

"Me?" Alex asks, looking rather insulted. "You're the one out here taking photos of us secretly." 

"You're the one who said you weren't oblivious. I've seen you walk into a pole! Be serious." There's a joke to be made about him walking into poles yet never getting pole, but that's a bit too harsh, even for you. 

"Be serious?" Alex parrots, rubbing a hand over his face. "Be serious! You are so lucky you're family, or I would've kicked you out of the paddock by now." 

With the same grin you'd been pulling on him since you were a kid, you force him to reconcile with the fact that he actually did this to himself. "Unfortunately, you did also get me a job with F1, so you couldn't even kick me out if you tried." 

"I'm sure they'd let me kick someone out if I needed to." He mutters, shaking his head, and before you can open your mouth, he raises a finger. "We're not making another bet about this." 

George, finally content with how the conversation has ended, speaks up. "I can't believe it took Oscar so long to notice." 

"I know, I thought it would be Charles." Alex answers honestly, and George pauses for a moment before turning to you.

"Should I be concerned I never caught you taking pictures of me?" His expression is stuck somewhere between the horror of potentially not noticing you and relief that you might have excluded him, considering the deal you struck up. To your surprise, George actually did supply you with oblivious photos of the drivers, a sort of double blackmail you can't wait to spring.

And, while he hasn't ended up on the account yet, there's still time.

He did help steal your phone, after all. He will pay. "I just didn't get to post yours. You're also pretty oblivious." 

"No, I'm not!" He says, pointing down at your phone. "We checked the camera roll, there was nothing of me on there!" 

"You think I'd leave those on my camera roll?" You ask with the same grin, now pointed at him. "Oh, I keep my secrets much more guarded, thank you." Alex offers a look, and you shove his shoulder. So maybe he had a point about you leaving your phone unattended around a man who knew the password and knew you ran a secret account, but still! "This secret doesn't count." 

"I'm sure it doesn't," Alex says with a laugh before leaning in closer. "Any good ones of George?" 

"Got one of him picking his nose?" 

With a screech you can only describe as inhuman, George loses all the colour in his face. "You do not!" Then, as he reaches for your phone, both you and Alex take a step back. "Albons, don't do this to me!" 

You and Alex are running before George even has a chance to catch up. 

It's a rare time Alex ever actually beats George in a race.

-

Liked by lando, alex_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers my cover has been blown :( it was fun while it lasted

↳ alex_albon I'm really glad I got you hired as a journalist and not a photographer, these are terrible

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers ow??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I can't even be a nepo sister in peace

↳ isackhadjar oh come on 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers your expression captures how I feel, it deserves the first slide

↳ georgerussell63 hey, i thought we had a deal 

↳ alex_albon you made a deal with george and not me??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/georgerussell63 the deal ended when YOU STOLE MY PHONE 

a/n: my friends have started playing photo tag on campus, which is the only way i can describe where this came from - enjoy?

[sweettoothedtrickster13]

Image ID under the cut

[Image ID: Tumblr user lipstick lesbia prefaces the image with:

"I will never stop thinking about this poem my Greek professor showed us."

The image is a poem entitled 'After my brother's death, I reflect on the Iliad' by Elisa Gonzalez. The poem reads:

"The water cuts out while shampoo still clogs my hair. The nurse who swabs my nose hopes I don't have the virus, it's a bitch. The building across from the cemetery calls itself Life Storage.

My little brother was shot, I tell the barista who asks how things have been, and tip extra for her inconvenience. We speak only to the dead, someone tells me- to comfort, I assume, or inspire, but I take it literally, as I am wont: even my 'shut up' and 'fuck' and 'let's cook tonight', those are for you, Stephen. You won't come to me in my dreams, so I must communicate by other avenues.

A friend sends an image from Cy Twombly's 'Fifty Days at iliam'- a red bloom, the words 'like a fire that consumes all before it'- and asks: Have you seen this? It's at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

If I have, I can't remember, though I did visit with you, when you were eleven or twelve, when you tripped silent alarm after silent alarm, skating out of each room as guards jostled in, and I- though charged with keeping you from trouble- joined the game, and the whole time we never laughed, not till we were released into the grand air we couldn't touch and could.

You are dead at twenty-two. As I rinse dishes, fumble for my keys, buy kale and radishes, in my ear Priam repeats, I have kissed the hand of the man who killed my son. Why would I do that? I ask as I pass the store labelled Signs Signs.

I've studied the mug shot of the man who killed you; I can imagine his hands. Of course I would. Each finger, even. To hold your body again. And to resurrect you? Who knows what I am capable of. If I were. Nights, I replay news footage: your blood on asphalt, sheen behind caution tape. Homer's similes, I've been told, are holes cut in the cloth between the world of war and another, more peaceful world. On rereading, I find even there, a man kills his neighbor.

"Let Achilles cut me down, / as soon as I have taken my son into my arms and have satisfied my desire for grief" - this, my mind's new refrain in the pharmacy queue, in the train's rattling frame.

The same friend and I discuss a line by Zbigniew Herbert "where a distant fire is burning / like a page of the Iliad." It's nearly an ontological question, my friend says, the instability of reference;

The fires in the pages of the poem, the literal page set afire.

We see double.

You are the boy in the museum. You are the body consumed, ash.

Alone in a London museum, I saw a watercolor of twin flames, one black, one a gauzy red, only to learn the title is 'Boats at Sea.' It's like how sometimes I forget you're gone. But it's not like that, is it? Not at all. When in this world, similes carry us nowhere.

And now I see again the boy pelting through those galleries a boy not you, a flash of red, red, chasing, or being chased- Or did I invent him? Mischief companion. Brother. Listen to me plead for your life though even in the dream I know you're already dead.

How do I insure my desire for grief is never satisfied? Was Priam's ever? I tell my friend, I want the page itself to burn."

Under the poem is italicized text that provides context on the author. It reads:

"Elisa Gonzalez, the winner of a 2020 Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers' Award, is at work on her first book. Read More." Read more is in blue, indicating a link.

End Image ID]

i will never stop thinking about this poem my greek professor showed us

[blooddlusts]

HOW CAN I SNOOZE ⋆｡°✩ ot7

( I CAN'T LOSE WHEN I'M WITH YOU ) ── sleepy boys want to stay in bed with you

enha x fem! reader (established relationship, fluff, kissing skinship, suggestive comments, them just being clingy boyfriends and just wanting to stay in bed while cuddling you)

word count: 1.23k

kiara yaps: taking nine credits in the spring semester was NOT a good idea, definitely regret cramming in a four month course work into two months lmaoo —this has been in my drafts for a minute and i apologize that i've been offline :(

LEE HEESEUNG

as soon as your alarm goes off that man has you in a chokehold. well, not literally, but it might as well feel like it. heeseung has his arms around your neck, his legs wrapped around your torso and he's putting his whole body weight on you. there's no escape from his grasp as he's placing kisses on your cheek and begging you in his morning voice to stay with him bed. it's adorable, it's cute. and you can't help try to pry his arms off of your body; not like it works, he's only going to hold you tighter. and while he's holding you into his arms, pressing his body against yours begging for you to stay —he's whispering the most dirtiest comments in your ear to make you blush. heeseung may not be fully awake, but he knows how to press his lips to your neck and just beg for you to stay in his arms.

"heeseung please, i have to go to work,"

"just five more minutes,"

PARK JAY

you don't even have to touch your alarm because jay is already turning it off. he's grabbing your phone and already calling the number of your boss from muscle memory so that you can stay home. don't even think about trying to protest and trying to snatch your phone back. he's literally going to wrap one of his arms around you, place a kiss to your forehead and tell you to go back to sleep. putting up a fight with a man who could shower you with all of the gifts you want in the world is pointless. the only reason why he dares to be extra is to secure more hours with you in bed. once he calls your boss, it's game over. your boss is afraid of jay to even say anything back (he threatened to buy the company), which means there's a smile lingering on his lips. you can whine, you can beg to go to work, you can plead with him to let go and get out of bed —but jay is going to hold on to you like you're the only person in the world.

"jay what did you say to my boss?"

"don't worry about it, my love,"

SIM JAKE

once your alarm goes off, he's burying his face inside the nape of your neck while begging in his morning voice for you to say in bed. if that doesn't work, he's going to start placing kisses down your neck in hopes that it will make you stay. and if that isn't convincing, consider his thumb stroking your cheek while he plays with your hair as his next attempt to make you stay in bed. most of the time, just burying his face in your neck is enough for you to smile and lean into his arms that beg for an embrace. there's something adorable about turning around and seeing him give you a sleepy smile before kissing you on the lips. you have to give jake some credit in how convincing he is for you to linger in his arms just a little longer. work can wait, seeing the corners of his lips break into a smile as he falls asleep holding you makes everything better.

"you're lucky i love you, jake,"

"just shut up and let me hold you,"

PARK SUNGHOON

he's already not a fan of alarms. much to having a punctual schedule and being on time to things, sunghoon is willing to make that exception when it comes to you. he thinks the alarm you have set every morning is aggravating —like it actually pisses him off. consider it a diabolical act, but once you're already asleep, he'll disable your alarm. which means he gets as many hours as he wants with you the next morning since you'll sleep through the "alarm" you've set. okay, maybe it's a little mean. but he'll at least make sure that you're up so you have enough time to come to work without being horrendously late. the way he groans in the morning when you wake up, how he immediately wraps his arms around your waist and tells for you to stay —he just wants you to linger just a little bit longer.

"sunghoon, did you turn my alarm off again?"

"i don't see you complaining,"

KIM SUNOO

when your alarm goes off, sunoo gets grumpy. like his hair is all messy, he's squinting because the sun is in his eye and more importantly he doesn't want you to leave. instead, he grabs you by the wrist, and pulls your hand up to his hair. consider yourself screwed because there's nothing that boy loves more than you playing with his hair. sunoo has no filter in the mornings, he'll say things as it is which means you have to snatch your phone away from him before he cusses at your manager for making you go to work. he's so stubborn that he's going to be holding you in his arms, planting kisses down the side of your face with such tenderness that you're just melting in his embrace. consider your efforts to go to work wasted —you can't win the battle against sunoo.

"how long are you going to keep doing this?"

"when you quit your job and decide to stay in bed with me,"

YANG JUNGWON

he doesn't being reminded every morning that you have to go to work. as soon as you sit up in bed to stretch your arms or try to process that you're awake —he's taking you down. no, like literally. somehow jungwon has secret wrestling skills that you don't know about because he has arms wrapped around your waste and throwing you back into bed. and that's how it's going to stay, his arms around your waste, him resting his head on your chest as he cuddles up to you in bed. all you can do is accept your fate and run your hands down his back as he holds you tightly in his arms. if you're lucky, he'll give you some time to get ready for work. but if that doesn't happen, just accept the fact that there's going to be a cheeky smile on his lips as he's humming tunes in his morning voice.

"you really have to stop tackling me, babe,"

"then stop going to work,"

NISHIMURA RIKI

oh you are so screwed. consider yourself in one of those "escape horror" video games that gave you nightmares when you were a kid. niki is not one to be trifled with when it comes to waking up to your alarm early in the morning. there's something about that glare that he gives you that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. but the fear is immediately replaced with giggles as he throws his whole body weight on you. that man is laying on top of you like you're his personal pillow. there's no escape, just him laying on your chest, wrapping his arms around you and literally snoring while you just lay there trying to shimmy your way out to get to work. of course, you give in and press a kiss to his head while you start to stroke his hair. you have to give him some props when it comes to making you stay in bed with him —even if it means becoming a human pillow.

"niki, can you get off me now?"

"let me think about it —no."

reblogs, feedback, likes & comments are appreciated!

[archivewriter1ont]

I think people forget that at the time of the Bad Batch show, Hunter has already spent a good portion of his short, accelerated life leading his brothers (and possibly other soldiers) in literal WAR. He has been forced to make hard decisions for the good of his squad, and he knows that sometimes there's not a perfect or even a good way out of a situation -- sometimes there's just the only way. That's why I can't see fautling him for leaving Crosshair on Kamino, because that was the only way at the time that he could keep his other siblings safe (especially Omega, who is small and arguably more fragile than the rest) even though it probably felt like he was ripping his own heart out by turning away from one brother to do it.

He even says that to Omega -- "I blame myself -- we don't leave our own behind." Hunter didn't know what to do when one of his own made him decide between them, but he had to do something whether he wanted to or not.

I mean, look at this photo! Is this a man who WANTED to stun his brother, who WANTED to leave him behind?

[whumpbby]

Prev tads:

#that and the fact that wwx was obsessed with saving the wens#yes they didnt participate in the fighting but wen qing and wen ning were literally occupying the jiang territory after the genocide#not to be political but that sounds and awful lot like being complicit#“but they saved jc!!” yeah that's held over his head the rest of the story#that and the last time that we see jc is when wn is spitting in his face how “marvelous wei-gongzi gave him his golden core”#motherfucker its because of YOUR FAMILY that jc had to sacrifice himself to save wwx#mdzs is SO UNFAIR to jc and the fandom gives him no chances#and the babygirlification of wn annoys me#also that and lwj simps being like “omg i love when he shuts down jc” girl lwj had an easy time compared to jc#hes not that much of a badass#jc suffers so much throughout the time wwx is alive and even MORE when he's dead and yet he cant find peace in post canon#like wangxian go riding off into the sunset getting married after barely knowing each other#and the man that was constantly pushed around by the story is yet again pushed down

I cannot imagine that the author is unaware how unappealing of a man LWJ is as-written. Like - is she? Wangxian is such a nothing couple, the only thing they share is physical attraction, predisposition to rough sex and inability to express their emotions?

Even trying to compare situations between JC and LWJ is laughable. I am not sure the author knew until the mid-novel who the male lead was going to be, becuase all LWJ does is a pale shadow of what JC did before him (well, excepting the rape fantasies, I guess).

Trying to protect WWX? JC did it first, more than once. Trying to help the Wen siblings? JC actually made an effort, I don't know what LWJ was doing (LWJ very obviously gave no fucks about the Wens either way). Trying to get WWX stop with his Yiling Laozu thing when the sects got onto him? One of them came up with actual emotions, arguments and reasoning, LWJ kept repeating the same line that didn't work the first 3 times...

lol peak hilarity is when people put lwj's grief and jc's grief anywhere on the same level. i know amanormativity has a death grip on society but losing your gradeschool crush who youve barely spoken to at all is nowhere near comparable to losing your entire family

[yoiisa]

HIII SOFIE <3!

I wanted to makes wind breaker x reader request! How about one where their s/o is like WHIPPED for them. Like hear me out, they write about the boys like almost every single day and gush over pictures they took of them, their looks and literally every single move of the boys. They just SIMP so bad for them 💔💔

But, the s/o doesn't show this side that much. They think the wbk boys would be weirded out and try to control their overbearing affection, keeping it on the down low.

But then the wbk boys find their diary/notes app with like hundreds of notes/diary entries about the boys and like the gallery about them and whatever else. As for the conclusion, s/o dies from overheating!

And could you do this for Sakura, Suou and Kaji??

Thank you for reading💞💞

not a chalant bone in y/n's body . . . real tho

➜ sakura haruka is also short circuiting whenever he sees you ➜ the fact that you act so nonchalant in front of him just makes him angry because the least you could do for him is match his energy ➜ when he finds your diaries, he honestly is weirded out a bit, though not because he's shocked as to how much you love him ➜ after all he still knows that you care about him ➜ but he it shocked because he's like why the fuck doesn't she show it around me?!

"[name] are you ready yet?" sakura asks, leaning back on his hands as he sits on your bed. "Almost, I'm just gonna put some jewelry on first and then we can leave," you say rushing off into the bathroom. He sighs and calls out, "Togame told us to get there early so we could hang out with him before he has to work another stand. Hurry up!" "Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes at your dismissive tone and looks around your room. Suddenly, his eyes land on a notebook, left wide open on the floor. It's half tucked under your bed though, and Sakura bends over and plucks it up from the floor. In blue ink, all over beige colored pages, is your scrawls about him and the conversation you had yesterday: oh my god, sakura is so cute! today he asked me to come with him to a summer festival that one of his friends invited him to. he looked so sweet and shy AHHHHHHHH his face was all red and chubby i wanted to pinch his cheek and give him kisses oml he's perfect i'm so lucky to be his girlfriend!! You exit the bathroom and you're halfway through saying something, when those thoughts get thrown out the window. "Haruka! Why are you reading my diary?!" you cry, snatching it from his hand and practically chucking it across the room. "What the hell man?" "What hell me? What the hell you!" he says, his face the same shade as a fire hydrant. "What was that?" "W-what was what? What did you read?" you ask. "Your entry from yesterday!" he says and realization dawns on you. Oh, you'd been in a fit of cuteness aggression, and had haphazardly written down the entry. "Oh, that," you mutter. "Yeah, that," he says, and runs a hand through his hair. "How come you never talk to me like that? You're always so . . . normal around me." You giggle and turn his head so that he sees himself in the mirror. "Look at yourself. Look how read you are." When Sakura sees your point, he just nods and grabs your wrist. "Okay, okay, let's just go already."

➜ suo hayato instantly clocks the fact that you're faking how "normal" you are in front of him ➜ he doesn't really care that much though, because if anything it just makes you cuter in his eyes ➜ when he finds your diaries and flips through them, he only finds you even cuter! i mean who wouldn't ➜ you're literally waxing poetics about how mysterious and cool he is and it's the closest he comes to just bursting out into laughter

Suo walks into your bedroom after you, closing the door behind you. "Alright, these are the clothes I got yesterday," you say pulling bags off of your dresser. Your diary falls on the floor, but you don't notice it, to one-track minded on showing Suo the new shirts and skirt you got. "I'll go try them on?" Suo tears his eyes away from the diary on the floor and nods. "Okay." He watches you disappear into your walk in closet, and once the door is shut (perhaps against his better judgement), he picks up the diary and reads the page it opened up to: Dear Diary, I wonder if Suo actually likes me as much as he says he does. I know he's really sweet all the time, but I can't help feeling like this. Maybe it's just cuz he's so cool and . . . nonchalant (omg i can't believe I wrote that out loud). I try to match his energy as best as I can but still, sometimes I worry that I'm still too much. I just love him so much, I don't want him to think I'm boring. Hopefully he doesn't! He hears the closet door opening and chucks the diary behind him. He stands at attention as you step out, twirling as you show off the new maxi skirt you got. "What do you think?" you ask, but before you can even get another thought in your head, Suo comes up to you and hugs you tight. One hand wraps around your shoulders and the other cradles the back of your head against his chest. "I love you," he whispers. "I love you too . . . are the clothes that cute?" you ask sheepishly, slowly returning the hug. He smiles and kisses the top of your head. "Yes, [name]. They're cute, you're always cute." He pinches your cheeks as they turn red and kisses your forehead.

➜ kaji ren is more calmed down by the fact that you are so chill around him ➜ he doesn't feel as nonchalant around you though, so the fact that you are seemingly able to keep your head when he's around is able to keep him relatively calm ➜ however, that gets flipped on its head when he finds your diary ➜ when you stumble upon him after he'd looked through it all, he looks ready to completely combust ➜ it heavily triggered his cuteness aggression and he spends the rest of the day stubbornly holding your hand and refusing to let you go

Kaji barely got any sleep last night. He'd spent the night over at your house, and he was way too nervous to properly sleep at all. You went to bed around midnight, whereas he went to sleep at 2 AM. His heart felt like it was about to explode those entire two hours, but finally he fell asleep when his exhaustion outweighed his anxiety. When he woke up, you were already awake, sitting with your back to the headboard. You look down at him and away from the book you were writing in and smile. "You finally awake sleepyhead?" you ask, patting his head. He hums and nuzzles into your pillows. You laugh and say, "Okay, I'm gonna go to the bathroom first. I didn't wanna go while you were still asleep." You close the book and set it on the nightstand, before slipping out from underneath the covers. Kaji stays still in bed for a while, before he lifts his head and his eyes zero in on the book on your bedside table. He reaches for the book, curious to see if you were drawing something. He flips open to the bookmarked page, removing the pink ribbon and tossing it back over the cover. His eyes widen as he sees what you were writing. he's so cute, oh my god. he's sleeping right next to me right now, and it's the first time he's spent the night over at my house!! I hope he's comfortable, and not too cramped. Oh my god, his cheek is so squishy! Imma paste a photo later next to this page, but I took a photo of him sleeping and his cheek is all squished against the pillow. wait, lemme just . . . i just pinched his cheek! oh my god he'd never let me do that if he was awake, i win! Kaji slams the book shut, not able to read anymore. He puts the book back on the nightstand and practically jumps off of your bed. He leaves your bedroom and sees you exiting your bathroom. "Kaji, what's wrong? Why's your face so red?" you ask. "Did you pinch my cheek while I was asleep?" "Huh? N-no, why?" you stammer. "I . . . I just thought I felt something before I woke up," he mutters. There's no way in hell he's telling you that he read your diary. You find out still though, since Kaji didn't bother to put the ribbon back anyways.

[elysiasasuya]

Honesty in sickness

Characters : Megumi Fushiguro, father figure! Gojo Satoru and mother figure! Reader.

Summary : When Megumi was young, he met an obnoxiously loud man who approached him with an undeniable reassuring presence. At his apperance, his world stretched wider, no longer stuck at the world he was once in. Gojo Satoru. That's the one who stepped up when he was quietly in need of support. Not just his mentor, more of a father. Alongside him, was you, not just Satoru's wife, more of his mother. The young couple who stood with him.

Genre : ADORABLE FLUFF.

Content tags : Parental figure Gojo Satoru and reader, Familial affection between Megumi and you, romantic moments with Gojo Satoru, use of teasing words to Megumi (gumi, little gumi), Megumi is actually a teenager here, use of familial terms (dad, mom, papa, mama). Adorable fluff.

Word count : 1515

Author's note : this is a oneshot idea coming from anon! Make sure that you read the names and pronouns to know which one is speaking. I hope it is clear and not confusing however. Enjoy!

Megumi feels both hot and cold. Cold because of the shivers that ran down his whole body, his hair standing up at the uncontrollable temperature of his surroundings. That's why he's curled up in bed, seeking to be away from the cold. Hot because of the heat his body is emitting, due to the fact that his temperature struck up to 38C°. One touch is enough to burn you like a lava just touched you. That meant nothing to you though, you were nursing him– touching his skin so carelessly that he has to remind you the same reminder: “ Don't get too close, I'm sick. You might catch it. ”

Stubborn as you are, you smiled at him, wiping his sweat through the use of a clean damp towel. “ I've been nursing you since yesterday, I won't get sick. ” it was true. You haven't left at all, you stayed by his side, ready to assist him in any way you can. He says you didn't need to. He says he can do it himself and yet he remains rotten in bed, unmoving. Damn this sickness– is all he could think of. He is being a burden. He just hopes it will pass soon so you don't strain yourself too hard. “ I hope you recover, Gumi. ” amidst his thoughts, her hand finds his, squeezing it lightly. Oh, he prays for that. Right away even. So just he wouldn't be a burden.

Or maybe so he wouldn't have to endure the unbearable beam of energy Gojo Satoru carries. Here he comes. “ Yo, Gumi Gumi! Guess what your dad bought? ” and here is the exact person he dreaded to deal with. The same grin since yesterday is plastered on his lips as he approaches the bed, plopping right beside him, near you. “ Aww, the baby Gumi is sweaty and needs a shower. Good thing his mama is here. ” absolutely horrendous. Now this time it isn't because of the sickness, perhaps it is, of him that is. He might even consider getting sick just because of his constant teasing. His stress levels must be up there.

“ Satoru, really? You know Gumi doesn't like your teasing antics, playing house and all. ” you chuckled. Deep inside however, he knew that a feeling of happiness and warmth is already blooming in you. So for the sake of it, he tolerates Gojo Satoru. He lets him trespass and poke his tired and heavy body. He groans at him though when he literally just pushes him up, earning a smack from you. “ Be careful, can you? Oh gosh, sorry Gumi. ” again, the irritation leaves and he just nods at her. “ Damn, what favoritism. Here I am getting you the food you wanted and that's what I get? ” Satoru huffs.

“ That's enough for you two, Gumi has to eat now. I'll- ” hope swells up in his chest when he waits for what he most wanted to hear, you to feed him. Definitely not because he enjoys it, he does. but because that means Gojo wouldn't have to play airplanes in feeding him but oh well, poor luck. “ You can rest, wifey. I'll feed our Gumi Gumi. Poor baby needs to eat. ” this elicited a glare from him, about to finally send out a protest– once again cut off. “I know you stayed up late at night for Gumi, go on and rest. ” Satoru knew what he was doing when he used the final blow of reasoning, winking at Gumi knowingly. He cannot refuse now for you.

So here he is, sitting against the headboard, body still a little bit paralyzed. If it weren't for that poisonous curse, he wouldn't be here, getting fed by no other than his mentor. Truly, damn. “ Stop cursing me in your head will you? Get this airplane in your mouth, woosh here it comes! ” Satoru mimicked a plane landing towards the lane or not because he dodged, he cannot bear this. “ Oh no! The plane crashed now. ” Satoru laughs, almost letting out a huge snort when he ends up complying because the food actually did fall down. Just a few bits went onto the sheets though. “ Clean it up, I don't want her to clean this mess. ”

“ Go eat then. ” Satoru knew he would and he did. Minutes passed and Megumi was finally done. Finally, finally, no more Gojo Satoru. Just you who has come back from a nap it seems. You stretched out your arms there, sauntering to Satoru's side who gave you a forehead kiss. “ Successful landing, pilot? ” you teased and he let you. “ Very much, just for my pretty darling. ” Satoru mused, drowning in your scent as he pressed his lips on your neck. Great, now he has to see this unfold. Cough. Cough. Cough. “ Alright, I'll accompany Gumi now, get your ass going 'toru. ” you shake your head, keeping your laughter hidden because of the face of disgust Megumi was showing.

Now, the " finally " actually happened. It's just a comfortable silence. Softer. Better. Because you're here. “ I'm sorry about Satoru. He may be overbearing to you but let me tell you how he insists on visiting you daily despite busy missions. ” he feels himself go steady, voluntarily this time. His eyes focus better on your face, the light beside the bed illuminating the gentle expression it has. He knows that look. The look of love towards Satoru and him. He feels this warm feeling creeping up to his chest again. “ He actually rushes to finish curses just to buy you what you ate earlier. ” you shook your head, smiling even wider. The warmth he felt suffused even more.

“ Yeah. He's like that. I'm sorry if I'm irritable during moments like this. ” He acknowledged it, bowing his head low as a sign of reverence. He looks just like a dog filled with guilt. He knew that their energy levels don't match up, technically like what extroverts and introverts are like. But once again, he knew that his teasing was more than just for the sake of pissing him off, it was his care for him. “ Please don't tell him but as much as I am irritated with the teasing and noises, I am grateful for him. ” you, who was sitting on the seat stood up to lay down beside him. This act is for more intimacy and secrecy. A display of her trustworthiness. “ I won't tell him. So, you actually think that? ”

“ I would be ungrateful and spoiled if I didn't. He did take me in when me and Tsumiki were barely living with the lack of needs. ” his eyes cast themselves low, nostalgia and something tender swirling in his irises. “ I remember, it was also our first meeting. Kinda like we were having our first kids. ” you bit your lower lip, a cheeky smile of pride and joy hidden as to not cause him discomfort. “ It was, thank you.. ” a pause, silence. This time you felt the bed grow heavier and warmer so your eyes drift to check up on him. You were right, he's sleeping– “ Dad is a stubborn and joyous man. It's bad if I don't accept him and the contagious joy. ” your breath hitches.

“ Mom, thank you. You two. ” now silence again. The vastness of the room is nothing in comparison to the small space the two of you are in so you can confirm his asleep state. “ So shocked? He can be straightforward when he's sick and sleepy. ” Satoru emerges from the shadow of the door left ajar earlier. He dips beside you, admiring the huge smile on your lips. “ I didn't know he actually thought of us like that. ” you whispered, reaching out to hug him. It felt so domestic, so loving. “ It feels like a family huh? I know that's what you're thinking. ” he laughs softly and quietly.

“ I know, I know, we are, honey. You did well with Gumi's growth. Well done mama. ” you raised your head from his embrace immediately though and smirked. “ Why are you acting like he didn't acknowledge you first hm? You shy then, papa? ” now's your turn, a revenge for your little Gumi. Satoru froze then, his face flushed with a hint of smile forming on his mouth. “ He did. ” this time, it's not hot and cold for Megumi now. It's warm and nice. He fell asleep right after hearing it.

© @elysiasasuya 2025. © Ri (edits) © kodasworld (dividers) . Hearts, reblogs and shares are appreciated!

[tobiasdrake]

Where do you fall on the "killing vs. not killing bad guys" argument? I know the debate is complicated and there's a lot of various factors for and against either side, so I wanna hear your take on things.

An intensely complicated subject that tends to get oversimplified on both sides of the equation. I generally don't like to take a "side" on this because I feel like the idea of there being "sides" on killing misses the point.

Unless you're talking about cold-blooded execution of a subdued foe, killing generally isn't a choice you get to make. It's a consequence of the choice you already made to use violence.

While arguments about killing villains exist beyond superhero comics, this is a particular way that they tend to happen in superhero media. Superhero stories depict their heroes as, effectively, SWAT teams. The Green Goblin is about to blow up Newark, so Spider-Man breaks in and smashes his face against a brick wall until he passes out.

Part of the fantasy is the idea that nonlethal violence is easy and reliable. After Spider-Man reduces the Green Goblin's HP to 0, a Windows menu pops up and says "Would you like to finish him?" Spider-Man boldly clicks "No" after every fight like the hero he is.

It allows fans to enjoy brutal takedowns of bad guys without having to reckon with the reality that when Batman brought an entire floor down on top of that guy's head, he probably didn't wake up in a hospital bed. Batman can throw a guy off a third story balcony and watch his knees crack as he hits the ground and the story assures you that he's fine. He'll just need a little stay in the hospital.

But realistically speaking, all of these guys would have body counts. Not because they were aggressively trying to murder, but because you don't really get the choice. It is extremely easy to kill someone and surprisingly difficult to nonlethally incapacitate them. The line between how much blunt-force cranial trauma will knock someone unconscious versus how much will kill them is extremely blurry and it moves.

There are less lethal ways of incapacitating someone than others. Obviously, tasing someone has a lower mortality rate than shooting them with bullets. But the only surefire way to uphold a Code of No-Killing is to not use violence as your problem-solving tool in the first place. And there's not a lot of de-escalation training going around the Avengers Mansion.

So it always just feels kind of self-delusional when superheroes brag about not killing people but their primary mode of problem-solving is to shoot a guy in the face with an exploding arrow or something. You're gonna kill people if you're Batmanning. Sorry, that's just the reality of violence. When you throw a guy off a roof, you don't get to choose what physics is going to do to that sack of meat and bone as it hits the ground.

Now, on the opposite end of the spectrum, should superheroes kill people on purpose? Uh. No. I don't want cops extrajudicially murdering whoever they don't like, and I don't want Batman to do it either. Due process exists for a reason.

Superheroes should not try to kill people. But they are going to kill people sometimes, because their hammer is violence and their stories are just excuses to pit them against nails.

"But the Joker always breaks out of prison." Yeah, but he also always comes back to life. If you can nitpick about genre conventions then I can too. Hell, often times you can't even redeem a villain without the next writer unwriting it and making them a bad guy again. At a metafictional level, there is rarely any way to truly do away with a popular villain.

But. Y'know. Let's talk about heroes who aren't fucking copaganda. In the broader fictional sense, should stories end with the hero killing the villain or shouldn't they?

This, again, has no simple Yes or No answer. It depends heavily on the themes being explored and what the villain is meant to represent.

We need to talk about the "demise" of the villain, which can be a literal death or it can be many other things. The primary function of the villain is to be wrong about something. To oppose the hero, who is right about something.

The villain holds bad ideas, bad beliefs, bad ideology. The hero may start out holding good ideas, or they may be something that the hero comes to over the course of the story. But by the time these two meet in the third act climax, they are meant to embody the two faces of the story's central thesis. Regarding whatever this story is trying to talk about, the hero is right and the villain is wrong.

Whatever form it takes, whether literal death or not, the demise of the villain is the final statement on their incorrect or even toxic beliefs. Which often does take the form of literal death because it's easy to write a comeuppance that way.

Luke Skywalker believes that there is love in his father's heart for him, and Emperor Palpatine is confident that Anakin is truly lost. But Luke's love for his family wins out and destroys Palpatine.

Scar is selfish, cowardly, and disloyal. Simba returns out of a sense of responsibility and loyalty to his people, coming clean to them and accepting his place among them. Scar tries to sell out the hyenas to save his own skin, as well as stabbing Simba in the back. For his treachery, the hyenas rip him to pieces; He is devoured by the very loyalties that he selfishly betrayed.

Obadiah Stane, the embodiment of war profiteering and the military-industrial complex, is literally consumed by the clean energy project that Tony wants to move the company towards instead.

Sauron underestimates the power of the small and meager folk, and believes wholeheartedly in Great Men of History. And so when Great Man Aragorn marches to his gates, he allows himself to become convinced that this is his true nemesis, his true rival, the threat he must face. This is the glorious battle that will decide the fate of Middle-Earth. And so he turns his eye away from the common folk that will be his undoing.

The villain's flaws, their toxic ideology, the things that make them the villain, are what their demise is supposed to be about. They can be consumed by their failings or undone by the hero's virtues, but either way, in a well-executed demise, a closing statement on the story's thesis is made.

But a well-executed demise doesn't necessarily have to be fatal, either. Like I've said, it can be things other than a literal demise. Sometimes it absolutely should.

In Civil War, Zemo is driven by an obsession for revenge. His homicidal retaliatory bloodthirst is a toxin that he infects both T'Challa and Tony with over the course of the story. Tony succumbs and has to be defeated with force, though Steve still demonstrates his strength of character by sparing Tony's life in the end even when the madness of the battle threatens to grip him too.

But it's T'Challa who delivers Zemo's demise. Not by killing him, but by making the choice to rise above vengeance. T'Challa breaks the shackles of Zemo's infectious vengeance and chooses mercy. And it's in this moment that Zemo's feelings, his cruelty, are opposed and vanquished by T'Challa's heroic virtue.

Firelord Ozai believes in the Social Darwinist ideology of Might Makes Right. He leads a culture where disputes are settled with deathmatches and believes it is his right to blanket the world in fire because he has the power to do so, and no one can stop him. Aang, by contrast, is a pacifist at heart because those are the values he was raised in; Values of a culture that Ozai exterminated, whose very last vestiges exist only in Aang's heart.

Ozai would kill Ozai and Azula, who often gets left out of this conversation. Because theirs is a culture where righteousness stands hand-in-hand with brute strength. Where who is right is decided by who is left standing when the dust settles, and who is a pile of ash. Aang defeats Ozai; By Ozai's belief system, Aang is stronger thus Aang is righteous and it is his Conqueror's Right to execute Ozai where he stands.

But Aang doesn't just beat Ozai; He rejects Ozai's way of life. He renounces the belief system of the imperialist colonizer and holds true to the belief system of a people they destroyed. While a simultaneous outcome plays out between Katara and Azula, as Katara similarly chooses mercy once she's obtained a position of power and control over Azula.

Special note also to Zuko who demonstrates that he actually cares more about protecting people than about winning his Glorious Deathmatch of Imperialist Honor. Which also serves as a rejection of Azula's beliefs that relationships are founded on fear and control. Zuko, too, rejects the belief systems of Ozai and Azula and warrants recognition. Ozai would never have taken a hit like that for Azula. Azula would never take a hit like that for Ty Lee.

It's this mercy that breaks the Hundred-Year War, destroying not the perpetrators of it but the very principles on which it is founded. This philosophical annihilation of Azula and Ozai's very understanding of strength and power is their villainous "demise", and weighs far more than just cutting their heads off and calling it a day ever could.

There is no correct answer to whether or not heroes should kill. What matters most is how the demise the writer chooses for the villain reflects upon the story's central ideas and thesis.

[rosenclaws]

Hi! I really, really love your writing, especially these headcanons.

This is gonna sound really weird but could you write Logan with a reader who struggles with friendships and making friends? And general loneliness?

I'm struggling with feeling like I have no one right now and I just would really like to read about Logan loving on me and making me forget that for a bit

HI!! of course I can. we don't really talk and im so ass at responding BUT my dms or inbox is always open if you need someone to talk to <33 I really understand where ur coming from this was literally me all through college. I didn’t make a single friend bc I commuted and I felt so lonely. Also dofp and trilogy logan can be read more platonic so if u arent happy with it i can redo them!

Origins Logan -

I think that Logan isn’t great with making friends either. He’s not super interested in making friends so he’s very content being alone or being with you. But he notices a small sadness in your eyes sometimes. How you never seem to go out with people or the way your voice falls when he tells you he’s going to the bar after work with some work friends. He wasn’t sure what it was at first but then he saw you tucked away with tears in your eyes one night and decided it to get to the bottom of things.

See making friends is hard. You try. You really do. But no matter how nice you are and how much you try to reach out it just never works out. You never told Logan about it. Fearing he’d laugh or think you were lame. But it breaks his heart to see you so sad. He puts you in his lap and assures you that he’s there for you. He’ll be your boyfriend, your best friend, your support system. Hell he’ll even be your enemy if you wanted him to be.

He takes you out to town more in his free time encouraging you to join that book club you see flyers for or maybe that running group. Of course he won’t push anything but he just wants to see you happy. Whatever you need from him he’ll be. Because he loves you and he’ll be by your side through it all.

Trilogy Logan -

It’s stupid. At least it feels stupid. You live in a mansion with people just like you. Yet somehow you just feel lonely. You didn’t grow up here. You came very late in life and your powers didn’t warrant a spot on the team. In fact you swear the only reason Charles let you in is because they needed an art teacher. You’d sit in the kitchen at dinner by yourself while everyone was chatting around the counter. You would take walks when the students and staff played games. You were never invited to go out afterwards. Hell you aren’t even sure anyone else knows your name.

Until Logan came along. You knew him, of course you did he was The Wolverine after all. But you swore he never even gave you a second glance. It was your birthday and you were once again alone. You debated on going to the store and buying a cupcake but before you could make a decision Logan made it for you. A cute pink box sat on your bed with a card in very proper handwriting. The card just read Happy birthday signed by Logan of all people. It was your favorite flavor too. You confronted him and he just shrugged. He had always seen you but he was a lone wolf kind of guy. Still he liked you and in the spirit of…teamwork? He reached out. Logan was more than the grumpy man you thought he was. He was funny and had a sharp tongue. But he was sweet and a big softie. Only you got to see that side. He was your friend and slowly he made you feel seem. Made you feel loved. Now you have someone to exist in silence with and you’ve never been happier.

DOFP Logan -

I think it’s similar to trilogy Logan in the sense that he sees you when you feel like no one else does. He’s observant and the man can see that you don’t talk much to anyone. At a staff event you stayed quiet in the corner. Your face had “get me out” written all over it. A look he knows too well. He doesn’t know what draws him to you exactly. He thinks your smart and the kids love your class so why hasn’t he seen you around more.

The truth is you hated these events because you want to be apart of the fun so badly. To talk and laugh and befriend the people everyone seems to idolize. But no matter how hard you tried you just faded to the back. Making friends isn’t as easy as asking someone if they like ponies or the color purple. So when Logan. The Wolverine of all people walked up to and talked to you. It was bizarre. Not that you were complaining but fuck how did he even know who you were?

You start to overthink everything with Logan. Are you too clingy? Too forward? Should you ask if he wants coffee when you asked him yesterday if he wanted an extra donut? Eventually I think he asks you about it and you confess that making friends isn’t easy for you. Logan doesn’t think you’re weird or a loser for it. He understands shit happens and things aren’t easy for everyone. He is not a people person either and making friends is low on his skill set. But he likes you a lot and he’ll happily be your friend. Maybe more if you’re interested. He’ll be whatever you want him to be.

Old Man Logan -

Logan notices you’re just a little off. That you aren’t as happy as you used to be. A part of him is worried it’s his fault. He’s gone so much working and when he’s home he’s exhausted. He tries to take out on a nice date every other week. Something that you’ll remember for a long time. He’ll by you flowers he thinks are pretty from the store. They aren’t the most expensive but you don’t care. Was he not doing enough? I think he hides his worry until one day he finds you teary eyed laying on your bed and he can’t hold it in any longer.

It feels silly to tell him. He’s got so much on his plate and it’s not his fault he has things to do. He takes such good care of you and loves you. But you’re lonely. You go to work you come home and that’s it. You have Logan but you don’t have any friends and its starting to weigh on you. You try but people can be mean or they already have friends. You feel like theres something wrong with yoj. Logan frowns as he reassures you there’s nothing wrong with you. Absolutely nothing. Making friends ain’t as easy for some people and that’s okay. He would pick you up in his arms and cuddle you. He makes an effort to be the person you can always come to. Texting you things in between his rides. He’ll let you blow up his phone with everything you’re doing. He can’t always respond but he promises he reads it. When he comes home he’ll listen to you talk, ask a few questions and smile when you do. It can be hard but the loneliness isn’t forever and Logan will be your beacon for as long as you need him.

Worst Logan -

Wade has a lot of friends and sometimes it can be overwhelming as hell. So sometimes Logan just fucks off for a little bit. He enjoys the quiet more than the noise of people. That’s where he meets you. You live next door but he’s never met you. Not even Wade really knows who you are. You’re quiet and reserved and seem to stumble on your words. But Logan likes you. You’re much more tolerable than Wade for long periods of time. Sometimes you show up to ask for help or to drop off something but you don’t stay long.

After a while Logan asks why you don’t come to dinner or any of Wade’s parties. That’s when you tell him the truth. You aren’t Wade’s friend and that sometimes your jealousy gets the best of you when it comes to hearing how much joy and life comes from his apartment. Wade is friends with just about everyone but for some reason he never bothered to befriend you. You’re lonely and despite your small attempts to become closer they never went anywhere so you kind of just gave up. Until Logan came along. He was nice and he looked at you and gave you the time of day.

Admitting to him you were lonely was hard but he understands. He was the same way for years. All his friends had died and he had no one for a long time. He never wants to be that lost again and he won’t let you feel that way anymore either. He listens and he tells you that things might feel bad now but it will get better. He can’t tell you when but he’s there and he hopes his company can distract you even just for a little bit. Wade was appalled with himself for not introducing himself sooner once Logan brings you to a Sunday dinner.

He doesn’t force you to talk to anyone or suddenly expect you to be amazing at making friends with these strangers but he is there when you look back. Offering a smile that encourages you to open up just a little more. And if things feel like you’re losing it again, he’s right there to comfort you. He’s just a wall away and there’s no where else he’d rather be than with you.

[silent-stories]

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

[nanamineedstherapy]

Can you explain why nanago makes more sense than satosugu

OK, sit down, because this isn’t just a ship, this is a post-mortem. I love Nanago/Gonana because it’s the most adult, most tragically plausible what-if in JJK—like something delicate and unsaid that fell through the cracks while everyone was screaming.

First off: Nanami died trying to get to Gojo.

Like, literally. He wasn’t running aimlessly—he was heading toward B5. Toward the prison realm. Toward him. And no one talks about it. No one acknowledges that the final direction of his dying momentum was Gojo. Not safety. Not escape. Him.

That alone speaks volumes.

And here’s the thing: Gojo, with his blinding charisma, never stops performing—even in grief. But Nanami sees through that. And not in the "oh he’s secretly sad" fanon way. I mean deeply, in the kind of way that unsettles Gojo. Like looking directly at the sun and not flinching. That’s why I love scenes where Gojo is radiant, slightly deranged, and Nanami is watching with this unreadable, weary softness—a look that says "you’re killing yourself and calling it duty." Nanami was always capable of seeing what Gojo would never say aloud.

Gojo looks bewitching. Nanami looks at him like he’s already mourning him. And that’s the whole ship.

Now here comes the psychological autopsy:

Nanami is a hyper-functional depressive. All structure, routine, and withdrawal. He doesn't know how to ask for an emotional connection, but he knows how to give care in practical, quiet ways—and he craves a target for that care, or it turns inward and rots him.

Gojo is a charisma-addicted, touch-starved man with abandonment trauma so bad he thinks being needed is the same as being loved. He’s terrified of intimacy but craves validation. Most people either worship him or resent him. Nanami does neither—he just sees him.

They don’t just make sense—they stabilize each other:

Nanami gives Gojo structure and care without demanding performance. He’s the only one who’d tell Gojo to sit down, eat something, and shut up—and Gojo would listen.

Gojo gives Nanami purpose outside of grief. Not as an ideal, not as a child to save, but as a man who is barely holding it together. And that’s what Nanami needed—not another burden, but someone worthy of his attention who wouldn't fall apart if he blinked.

Nanami fusses over people like a dad with no kids, and Gojo is a grown man with the emotional injuries of a war orphan. They would’ve grown into each other like vines if the world hadn’t already broken them in opposite ways.

It’s not about “soulmates.” It’s about missed timing.

Adult Gojo could have been saved if Nanami had survived.

And Nanami could’ve finally lived, if he had Gojo to pull him out of the trench of routine.

So… why Nanago instead of Satosugu?

Because Nanago is what happens after grief—after boyhood, after ideology, after the dream has burned out and you’re left with ashes and still have to wake up at 7 a.m. to go to work you hate even if you were once that wide eyed fool who believed in what they did before the real world sucked that out of you, and now, you are just a shell passing through life. Where once you planned for things, now things just happen to you and you take it with an eyeroll because what else should you have expected.

I don't hate STSG, they make sense in their own ways, but that's what it is at the end of the day, when you grow out of that spring, out of that old hoodie—the one you won’t throw away even though the sleeves are fraying and it doesn’t keep you warm anymore. You keep it because it smells like who you were before life ground you down. It has holes in it—even if it feels soft, it won't keep the cold away.

But eventually, you grow out of that version of yourself.

You need to put on a jacket now if you are to survive the cold.

Satosugu is a ghost story.

It’s young love that died in the womb. A "what could’ve been" that stayed locked in one spring. It’s the echo of a summer that never made it into fall. It's young love that never had to deal with gas bills and funerals, and eating alone.

But Nanago? That’s a relationship that could’ve existed. Quietly. Constantly. Fully adult.

Nanago is what happens when you survive.

Barely. Bitterly. Bored and exhausted and ageing by the hour.

Nanago is that moment in adulthood where you realise love isn’t a miracle—it’s logistics. It’s making space for someone else in your day, in your decisions. It’s Nanami packing an extra energy bar that he knows Gojo will forget. It’s Gojo learning not to interrupt when Nanami is reading. It’s quiet, stable, slow. No anxiety, confused for fireworks all the time. Just… not being alone, forgotten.

And that’s what Gojo actually needed.

Gojo didn’t need a second love. He needed a first real one.

STSG meant to break your heart, and they do.

Not because Suguru didn’t love him—he did. But love isn't enough when you're still trying to outrun the world.

Because at the end of the day, Suguru chose to leave him so that he could create a world where people like him, Gojo, small children—little girls like Nanako and Mimiko, could be saved. But he decided genocide was the way because it was easier then having to fucking stick around to not hurt others while hurting himself.

But if killing innocents would have been the solution, then we wouldn't progress; we would just perpetuate the suffering.

Suguru left. Not just Gojo, but everyone. He wanted to fix the world by ending it. Because destruction felt easier than choosing to stay and suffer with people. Because he thought hurting others might finally drown out his own pain.

Nanami left, too—but only because he had to. Not kill, instead, to do a job he hates, for people who would post a job listing for his position by the end of the day, even if he mysteriously disappeared, or was found dead in his apartment, because the neighbours smelled something weird and called the police.

He didn’t believe in the Jujutsu system after Haibara. He knew it would eat him alive. But he still showed up. He still did the job. He died walking into fire, not because he thought it would fix anything—but because someone had to get closer to Gojo. Even if it meant burning on the way down.

Nanami’s not a revolutionary. He’s a nurse in a war.

And Gojo? Gojo’s the patient nobody knows how to save.

But Nanami would’ve tried.

That’s the difference.

Satosugu was a dream.

Nanago could’ve been a home.

But that being said, if you wanna talk about how powerful of a girl-dad Suguru is, then I will die on that same hill with you. But despite him doing everything, his girls didn't get to live in the world he envisioned. It's poetic because in Hindu religious texts, there's a lot of talk about your parents' karma coming back to bite you.

After all, the debt is still pending.

I love that man. But he left.

Nanami would’ve stayed. That’s the line that divides fantasy from survival.

And Nanami… Nanami needed someone too bright to ignore and too stubborn to let him give up.

Someone who saw his silences and didn’t ask him to explain them. Someone who needed his steadiness without turning it into a leash. Someone who wouldn’t make him feel boring just because he wasn’t breaking apart.

Anyway, I’ll be crying in the pantry again. Please send tissues and financial aid.

Thanks for this amazing ask, Anon :P Hope it was not too raw and adult, but I thrive in looking at things with a realistic perspective.

Hope I made sense :)

The first gif is from @azurepath, they make great renaissance-esque Nanago art :) 3rd is by @nanagoing :) Rest, idk so hit me up for credits or removals.

[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.

[threegoldfish]

When the door at the other end of the room opens all of a sudden, the movement does manage to get through to Steven, despite the fog surrounding him; It might even be the reason why said fog begings to clear up a bit at the edges - that and the controlled breathing, maybe, who knows? Whatever did doesn't really matter, though...

Because doctor Harrow is here, Steven can spot him there, hears his voice - and he lets out another, soft sob as the phone he's been clutching onto like his life depended on it is lowered, watery eyes focused on the man as he approaches Steven, greeting him in such a friendly way despite it being so damn early---

"Y-yeah... ---n-no---..." Hesitant, correcting himself - because Steven is not alright, not at all - he takes another, shaky inhale of air through his parted lips, unable to hold back a hiccup as it happens; New tears immediately begin to form then, prompting him to move the hand still holding the phone up to his face so that he can wipe his cheek with his sleeve, trying to get rid of some of the moisture. It doesn't help much, not at all - not with how messy everything already is, face red and eyes puffy, nose leaking because he cannot really sniffle, lips dry from all the heavy breathing, hair a literal birds nest on top of his head...

"---A-am I going t-to be sed-sedated?"

Still afraid of it, of being forced to do something against his will - to be turned into a puppet of sorts, defenseless and weak - it's the first thing that Steven asks, of all the things he could've said; His dark brown eyes briefly flick over to where that nurse is still doing her thing, his eyesight blurry but aware enough by now to spot her silhouette, before his gaze is back on the doctor then.

God, please, he does not want to be sedated! Does not want to be restrained, to be put on some kind of drug---

"...I-I know I must've... sl-sleep walked, m-maybe, but... b-but I promise I can w-work with it, I-I don't need to be se-sedated... I promise I can---"

There was something reassuring in Steven thinking well enough to apologize to Arthur, meaning that he was hopefully coming back to himself enough to understand what was going on. His voice was quiet, watery, filled with the kind of shame that didn’t belong to him. Arthur wished he could take it away, he truly did - but he understood that things weren’t always like that. He understood that there was more at play than just what Arthur could do. 

“You didn’t wake me,” Arthur promised, a lie but one that he didn’t mind giving. He stepped into the building, pushing his ID against one-too-many locks in order to get through. He walked through the hallways, sterile and too bright and quiet, just trying to get to where Steven was curled up. 

His limp was sharper than usual, still no painkillers, his body protesting every stride. A lock of hair clung damply to his temple, not combed back and neat as it normally was; all things that bothered him, but things he would fix later. He was early to work, all things considered; he’d have time to get himself together, to clean up. 

It was concerning, hearing Steven seemingly talking to no one for a moment - another spell of confusion, if Arthur had to guess. A foggy moment, something that worried him. 

“I’m happy you called me,” he continued, walking off toward the room. “It takes a lot, to reach out for help - and I’ll never be mad at you for it. It’s never wrong to, that’s what I’m here for.” 

He continued to walk, scanning his badge and appearing in the door of the infirmary. He didn’t look toward the nurse’s desk, instead just looking to Steven; he hated seeing the man like this. 

“Hey,” he greeted, gently, making his way toward the bed. “Are you alright?” 

[ablobwhowrites]

Due to a quote on the office worker y/n...I now can't help but imagining those old habits dying hard because y/n might believe that they have to pay bills in the cookie world, not realizing the cookies are COMPLETELY caring for em! Cue y/n trying to job search but cookies stop them because they didn't want y/n to ever overwork themselves again...so they try to get y/n into hobbies and/or just relax instead...cue y/n being surprised when no bills show up in their mailbox, only daily positive stuff in the mail and gifts the cookies know y/n would like...heck, maybe even drop off groceries to make sure y/n doesn't have the excuse of 'there's nothing at home to eat' to excuse them downing 3 cup noodles...aaaand petty sure if they see y/n getting themselves cup noodles...cue cookie instantly running up to grab the cup ans turn it into an actual meal via adding meat and other stuff lol!

That's a little off topic...main topic...imagine y/n attempting to skip meals and lie to say they aren't hungry...but the moment their stomach growls, all hell breaks loose! Health cookies trying to offer y/n food...

God forbid their stomach growls around hollyberry...she'd probably stuff em like a turkey, making sure y/n was full.

y/n literally had a crisis when they thought that they needed to pay cookie taxes now but yeah cause how bad the human world was that the cookies wondered how y/n was able to stay healthy for so long and not crack under the pressure. Y/n does deny themselves a lot of luxuries because they were to expensive for y/n and that they never had time to enjoy it and they still have that habit because they quietly see what they want but never actually get it because it's to expensive for them or if their friends wanted to take them on a trip, their boss's always said they needed to get paperwork done and then the deadline for the trip was there but their boss said they don't have leave yet. So y/n never was able to enjoy the nice things in life and this absolutely appalled the cookies who were wealthy and even regular cookies hearing how y/n worked 9 to 5 every day and even on weekends as they couldn't leave the job because how highly profile the company was so it would have ruined y/n if they left (they definitely aren't planning to drag y/n's boss to the cookie world to bascially give them the worse fate known to man or something)

Y/n is also in a mind set of having to work and earn money and they don't understand the meaning of rest as they never had a vacation or weekend off cause they literally worked minimum wage and when I say minimum, I mean minimum dude. So when getting so much stuff it basically overwhelmed y/n as they never had so much nice stuff and oh my God they get a well made house and not a apartment!? It's well furnished and has great heating and cooling!? Y/n thought it was a dream and may or may not had violently slapped themselves to see if it was a dream, it wasn't but it did scare the cookies that they did that. Red velvet cookie also gave them a cake hound as a nice gift and also a guard dog for y/n. Cheesecake cookie takes y/n to the most amazing places that some cookies couldn't afford cause she Is canonically loaded dude and poor y/n is so overwhelmed by how much stuff she gets them and y/n tries to convince Cheesecake not to spend so much on them and this goes for every cookie who is rich or gets them something expensive, poor y/n panics over the price.

the physical health cookies definitely try to keep y/n's dough loose and fit as Dr. Bones Cookie supports this as they will give y/n a doctors note for this. It's basically a schedule that blueberry pie cookie makes for y/n and does have a small notes of when y/n eats and what they need to eat and y/n finds that creepy a bit but they fear blueberry pie cookie cause they saw her angry once and they were forced a whole exercise day with all the athlete cookies and a Dr. Bones Cookie appointment in one day and it was torture for y/n as they worked in a office for so long and on top of the fact they were still new to their cookie body, it was absolutely torture and they never anger Blueberry pie cookie cause she controls y/n schedules cause the other cookies saw how efficient she is and y/n can't change that unless they ask but they don't wanna do another exercise day again. But string cheese cookie always tried to keep y/n's things clean and organized as she is a maid and all, plus fruit punch cookie owns a cafè (I looked at his game description stuff and it does say that.) so y/n is able to be at his cafè for as long as they'd like as he does like the company of y/n and they get to try new drinks that he has.

Y/n was thrown a whole feast by hollyberry and the king and queen of the hollyberry kingdom once cause y/n said they weren't hungry and then the biggest stomach growl was heard and sadly y/n couldn't escape in time cause they had left over on left overs they got to eat and I tell you y/n never had such a full meal in their lives but hey they got some berry juice to take home too. Y/n felt like they ate a whole buffet and y/n tries to not make that mistake anymore even around other cookies as they fear what that might result into.

Also once y/n once wandered about to close to beast yeast as they are a cookie in this world so it's not easy to remember where the fuck everything is and ended up being snatched up by Shadow milk cookie cause of his strings and basically this bastard tied y/n up like a spider so they couldn't run away and he just cuddled with them as he finally has them in his arms until they escaped which he was pissed about that and thinks it pure vanilla cookie who took them. Y/n just chewed on the strings until it broke and ran off. Mystic flour cookie does the same but it scares the shit out of y/n as mystic flour cookie could kill them but doesn't as she likes having y/n around, it's strange for her as she doesn't want to turn y/n into flour yet she knows these emotions can be fleeting. Burning spice cookie just holds onto y/n, like a death grip basically and y/n was a regular as human and this is basically a being with powers who needed to be locked away in a magic prison, the only way y/n escaped that was when Golden cheese cookie came to rescue them. Eternal sugar cookie hasn't gotten a hold of them luckily but soon she will but y/n is safe from her for now.

(But anyways that's it for my yapping session for today! But if you guys like it and want more please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's you have! But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[strryspace]

oh boy so i watched the sixties lotf movie, and everything was good, it was mostly true to the book

and then i watched the nineties one, and i think its actually WORSE than everyones making it out to be, there's so many inaccuracies i don't even know where to start

first off, them starting in the water made me giggle a lil, but then.. ralph i think?? goes down to save an adult.. by the HAIR. HELP?

them being from the same stupid military school is SO dumb, because theres meant to be a distinction between the choir boys and everyone else, and jack makes it a WHOLE THING that hes chapter chorister and can sing c sharp THEREFORE has the credentials to be chief

and theyre meant to be the last to show up after ralph blows the conch, which in the MOVIE, doesnt show up for a hot MINUTE

the point of the arrival of the choir is that they appear as a large black mass at first, which is foreshadowing that they themselves become the true beast later in the book, which made me mad because its one of my FAVOURITE parts in the book because its subtle but oh man it hits you on the reread

plus piggy was supposed to be the first one to stumble upon ralph, it was the whole point of their argument later, 'i was with him before anyone else was', but there isnt even an argument in the movie because EVERYONE goes to explore the island 🥀🥀

AND WHY ARE THERE GLOW STICKS?

they got rid of the parachutist too, and instead of the parachutist appearing on the island by the fire, the adult they saved earlier basically jumpscares a boy in a cave and then the boy stabs him with the spear, which is NOT THE EQUIVALENT TO THE PARACHUTIST ON THE MOUNTAIN!!!

the entire deal with the parachutist being on the mountain is that they then couldn't go back up to where their signal fire was, rendering it useless and rescue borderline impossible

they dont even address it cuz then they just put the fire on the beach anyway?

the parachutist was also to show that whats happening on the island is just a smaller scale of the real world events and the nuance of the world outside the island, to show that the boys wouldnt be safer back home in england like they think, how adults are as bad + WAY WORSE in general

and samneric dont even get captured, they straight up leave WAY earlier than theyre supposed to

+ the adult is just straight up knocked out from his injuries and he goes off wandering and thats how he ends up in the cave

ANOTHER THING!! if movie ralph is colonel, there shouldnt have even BEEN an election, because at the end of the day he literally has superiority over the other cadets, who gaf is jack is older, CUZ HE ISNT THE COLONEL IS HE???

jack wasnt even mad he was like 'i guess you won 🔥', the characterization is so sad and takes away from what theyre all meant to represent

and since there isnt even a choir, simon is basically just some cadet that has a lizard for barely a minute in the movie, in getting rid of the choir you just erase his religious characteristics, and in turn, RUIN HIS CHARACTER ENTIRELY

the SWEARING takes away from so many moments that are meant to be big and contemplative, and so much iconic dialogue was missing, they threw like five lines similar to the book and decided to call it a day

'im sick of your shit and sos my gang!' jack ate this line up though i cant even lie, i had a good chuckle but obviously its still not WHAT HE ACTUALLY SAID

not to mention.. they all help build the shelters, which in the book is one of the biggest problems cuz nobodys helping with the huts and its one of the reasons ralph calls an assembly

speaking of assembly, jack doesnt call one EVER like he does once in the book, and he doesnt even condescend ralph or mention any qualities about him to get the others to dislike him, he also doesnt attempt to redo the count so he can be chief, and its supposed to be a tense scene (at least i imagine it to be) but jack is just like 'okay bye whoever wants to come can come also fuck you ralph'

and people just IMMEDIATELY follow after him rather than slowly disappearing when theyre building the fire on the beach like in the book

also they just put in a random storm i guess for the dramatics but it doesnt fit because in the book the storm was used for simons death to indicate the climax of savagery and violence. yes, there is a storm when they kill simon, but its not as impactful because theres already been a storm and we've witnessed it

the mention of the beastie from the mulberry boy in the beginning aint even there, and they dont call it the beast (which it is LITERALLY ALWAYS KNOWN AS), they call it a monster.

that's another thing, a beast could be anything, it has a more animalistic quality to it, a monster just sounds fake entirely and it doesnt give it the feel of realisticness that the word 'beast' has

we dont see simon go off into his sanctuary at all, another core part of his religious character, and he also doesnt faint a single time

roger and simon get whitewashed but whos really surprised with that one anymore

when they hunt for the 'beast' ralph isnt even there and there wasnt even an assembly

theres also no slight confrontation between jack and roger after piggys death, taking away from his intimidating behaviour and overall character once again

when ralph goes back to castle rock and sees samneric, they just say 'you arent supposed to be here, blah blah blah roger sharpened a stick at both ends' ralph literally goes 'you need to stand up to him or youll just be another one of his slaves!!' and then scurries off, never let this guy do a pep talk ever

there is an assembly where ralph addresses the fact that everyone is horsing around, but due to the lack of BEAST it is basically useless because part of the assembly was addressing the nonsensical fear that reigned over the island, which meant simon didnt get to say his ICONIC LINES and also ONCE AGAIN takes away from their characters as a whole

jack doesnt even say 'bollocks to the rules' 🥀🥀 literally one of his silliest but genuine lines and they took it away from him

also they need to stop making jack blonde because hes described to be a redhead with a shit ton of freckles

and what do you know they made simon simply STARE at the pig's head, which the other movie does too but at least they could afford a few inaccurate things here and there because they mostly stayed on track

the events of the movie are simply ALL over the place and pretty much contradicts everything the book was trying to say and do, because by taking away certain things like the choir and the beginning with piggy and ralph, youre just saying 'what if there was an island. what if we put boys on it' AND THEN FILMED IT AND ATTACHED IT TO LORD OF THE FLIES' NAME

in the beginning, jack doesnt really make much of an effort to try to kill the piglet and plus the piglet wasnt even trapped so once again, there was very little tension and emphasis on it, which is unfortunate because its one of jacks important scenes, it shows his lingering innocence and the civilized part of him that's still in there despite his crude nature

if theres any more i can think of, ill edit this and add it

overall, im unimpressed and disappointed, i heard it was bad, but god i didnt know it was THIS bad

[joelmillerrrr]

Smoke and Sex | Joel Miller x Reader

pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

warnings: drug misuse, protective!Joel, established relationship (kinda), age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 56), no Ellie, angst, suicidal tendencies, sex (not with Joel), swearing, nsfw.

Summary: The reader likes to smoke the devil's lettuce and used to buy it from Joel until Joel became overly protective and didn't want you relying on that to be happy. As a result, you started buying from someone else, and Joel catches you together.

w/c: 1k ish

a/n: hey! I hope you enjoy this story, I'm open to requests as dark or as light as you like <3

Present Day

"I'll meet you up there in a second, I'm just gonna grab my stuff."

You were sneaking out.

You usually did it every day at the same time, sometimes more than once a day if possible. Smoking was the only way to get through this bleak life of yours. This shitshow of a life started when you were 3 years old, turning 4. You had no idea what was happening, and when you did fully understand how the world works, you had already seen so much.

Too much, really.

Shoving through your door, you grab your smoking supplies, you hadn't been able to buy off of your regular dealer because he was "done selling you drugs, you ain't ruining your life," as if a bit of pot would do that, but whatever. You thought.

Regular Dealer - Joel Miller.

He literally sold opioids to FEDRA, and he had issues selling you a bit of weed he found on the off-chance. Quite frankly, you found it ridiculous. Also, kinda sexy. It felt like he was trying to protect you. Protect you from a world that had already changed too much.

Plus, everyone knew not to mess with Joel; he was the toughest guy in the QZ.

2 weeks ago

"No."

"Joel, pleas-,"

"No."

"You sell to everyone else but me. How is that fair, Joel?" You couldn't believe this was happening right now. He had been selling to you for a whole year, without any issues, you thought.

Joel stepped towards you, his voice low and assertive, "because you ain't stupid enough to be wasting your life like this."

Pushing him away, you scoff, "You don't even know me, man, why do you care?"

He grabs your upper arm with force and pulls you towards him, "Don't."

"Don't, what, Joel?" It had been three days since you had had a smoke; you were irritable and in need of release, and Joel couldn't give that to you right now. He was no use to you.

Joel gets so close to your face, you swear you can feel his lips brush yours, "Don't talk to me like that."

You don't say anything back, frozen, staring at each other until Joel pulls away, "I'm done selling you drugs, you ain't ruining your life."

"I'll just find someone else," You mutter under your breath, fixing your jacket.

"Yeah, and if I find em I'll fucking kill em," Joel was mad now, really mad. His voice was way too low for someone who was in a good mood.

"You are fucking crazy." You would reply, slamming the door behind you.

Present Day

You had told your friends you would meet them at the usual place, but you decided to go to your own secret spot in the QZ, which happened to be where you met your new drug dealer.

Sneaking past the FEDRA trucks and the security lights. The only sound coming from the megahorn as the soldiers shout commands down it.

You hated living here. It was like a bleak dystopian future that you didn't want to be a part of anymore. If it wasn't for the drugs, you honestly don't know how you would cope living anymore. Life wasn't exciting, you had no one, and the only thing you relied on was a smoke at the end of the day and that's even if you fucking got any.

Lance was waiting there at the spot; every time you saw him, you knew how low you had stooped for your habit. It made you feel like a dirty whore, which in a way you probably were.

He was sleezy. The only way you could pay Lance for the weed was sex. Whilst you lay there, on your back, Lance's face in between your legs, your mind would go to Joel.

Joel never expected this of you, even if you got the sense that he definitely would if given the chance. The only thing Joel ever asked was for company outside of the QZ for supply runs or smuggle runs. You always knew you were safe with Joel; there wasn't any second-guessing.

And with that, he lines himself up with your hole. You know this isn't what you want to do, but you have no choice. Joel took that away from you.

"Oh, baby, you taste so good," Lance moaned in between your thighs. A small noise emits from your throat. You are putting on a slight show for him.

'Just get it over with,' you think to yourself.

The door busts open, "Get the fuck away from her."

That deep voice gives you flutters.

"Wait your turn, you can have her after, I'm sure she wouldn't mind." And with that, Lance is ripped away from you and thrown against the wall.

"JOEL," You scream, but he doesn't hear you, or if he does, he ignores it. He stalks over to Lance, grabbing his collar, bringing his fist to his face, over and over again.

Blood is all over his hands as he continues to pummel him. You get up and run over, "Joel, please stop."

He throws Lance to the ground and looks up at you, "What the hell are you doing?"

"You took my choice of dealers away from me. What did you think I was going to do?" You pull up your trousers, just now remembering that you were half naked in front of Joel. Suddenly becoming very self-conscious.

"So you just sell your pussy to anyone then? If you want to do that, go down the clubs in the QZ."

"It's no-, it's not like that." You turn around and grab your shirt from the bed.

When you turn back, he's there right behind you, "If you wanna give that pussy to anyone, you give it to me, alright Darlin'?"

"W-What?" Everything he was saying was sending a wave right down into your core.

Whispering in your ear, he says, "That pussy belongs to me," he puts his hands on your crotch and rubs slightly, sending the warm feeling down between your legs.

A moan comes from deep inside your throat. You have wanted this. You have wanted Joel to touch you, to want you, to have you in every sense of the word.

"And we will work on the drug habit, yes?" He moves away from you, giving you a small kiss on your neck.

"Yes." You shiver at his touch; this could be your new drug.

Joel Miller.