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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@oeuvrage
I'M SORRY, OK? / NO, YOU'RE NOT. YOU SAY THE WORD, BUT YOU DON'T CHANGE.
patron saint of poor decisions & manic pixie boymare, Ryan Akagi. ⭑ private, selective, & mututally exclusive. est. since 2026.
¹⭑ Rules. ²⭑ Ryan. ³⭑ Reciepts.
❝ i can’t believe it’s really you. ❞ - red
he follows like a man POSSESSED.
it's like staring into the face of an old photograph and watching the memories blink back at you. the dead are supposed to haunt the living, but what if it was the other way around? it's the only explanation for the fire under his skin, the HOT-BLOODED impulse beating through him as he chases a flash of color through the starcourt mall. when he lifts his hand to touch the figure's shoulder, his fingers hover for a agonizing second in the space between them—terrified that his fingers might pass through her like a ghost, that this perfect stranger is exactly THAT.
there's a brief moment in between, a moment so compact, like the inception of a universe, hot stars pressed together right before the expansion, that it almost counts for nothing in the long expanse of his entire life. and yet, it managed to change everything. he catches her face, it's HER. silence stretches between them like a long taffy pull, the seconds running into minutes, time bleeding out on the floor like treacle. how does anyone stand this?
his lips purse but the words fail him. they're already causing a scene, a break in the middle of a food court sea. his lips purse but the words fail him. they're already causing a scene, a break in the middle of a food court sea. an earnest grin breaks the exhaustion in his face. ❛❛ hi. i missed YOU. ❜❜
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ Shipping Call ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
Send me…
⚔️ for an enemies ship (not romantic)
💜 platonic ship
❤️ sexual ship (not romantic)
💖 romantic ship
⭐️ (something) ship
and I’ll tell you if I can see it and am open to discussing it or plotting it out!
WHAT KIND OF LOVE ARE YOU?
♪ ⠀ ⠀ ˖ ⠀ ⠀ ♫ → LOVE YOU! / it's the "i love you" we use every time we finish up a call with our mom, every time we want to offer our friends a bit of encouragement, the welcome home kiss on the cheek we give our lover every day. it's sending them pictures you know they'll laugh at, buying them strange little nothings that you know they'll like. it's having their bagel order memorized and setting their birthday as your password. somehow, their name weaves its way into almost every funny story you share with others. it's brief, casual, it's a habit. we aren't even aware we do it. it says that love is cradled lightly in your heart, generously given, spilling out into the world unbeknownst to you, making up the web of delicate threads that hold us all together.
TAGGED BY: @lifcguard TAGGING: whoever wants to, just tag me!
「 Atom No Ko ✦ Episode 5 」
Stop being brave for five minutes and let me help you.
violence begets violence. hate brings hate.
it was a cycle, a circle perfectly drawn and sharply cut: it began with anger, a snake slithering through the grass, stomach swollen with rodent feast, fangs BARED and dripping with venom. and like venom, anger attacked the systems of the body, triggering all sorts of unsavory reactions, affecting aggression, a primitive urge, in every muscle, tissue and cell, in every fiber of one's being.
there's BLOOD in his mouth.
ryan can taste it. salt and copper on his tongue like the tang of rusted pennies. there's blood in his mouth, but he can't spit it out. that would mean forfeit—that would mean losing—and it's too soon for him to ADMIT that kind of defeat, even if he knows he is fighting is a losing battle. he's still on his feet, but barely. long enough to make his statement clear: he's not going down without a FIGHT. a cornered animal does the one thing it knows how to, gnashing teeth against windows and drawing blood upon instinct.
his chest ACHES like a freight train to the chest and he's half convinced he's bleeding out from the gash between his knuckles. the evening filters multi-colored light through the church windows ryan watches, from the crouched safety of his pew. the stained glass paints hum in shades of red, purple, blue; tender and BRUISING, it suits him.
humanity floods back into him all at once at the sound of a voice. a small, selfish version of himself tucked deep into his mind urges him to remain still. no such thing as survival of the stupidest. but he doesn't feed into that voice. instead, he forced his fractured fingers to grip the back of the pew, pulling himself up against gravity. he's half-convinced she might have a DEATH WISH, standing here in front of him when the whole world was going to shit around them. he wipes the blood from his chin with his swollen wrist, a pathetic act at self-preservation. ❛❛ i told you to run, ❜❜ a harsh whisper against hollow silence. ❛❛ you're not the one with a shot ankle. you can still GET OUT. ❜❜
good morning, self-indulgent SPIDER-MAN verse ryan akagi coming to stores near you SOON!
@oeuvrage continued from here.
the tv flickers in the background, but heather isn't watching it (it's a rerun, anyway). she's watching ryan instead, watching him make himself comfortable on the couch, a lazy smirk on his face and a soft, sleepy gaze. he annoys her, sure — he's got terrible taste in music and his van is always a mess, and he's always coming up with some stupid comment to volley at her, like this is some game the two of them play. somewhere along the line, though, it had become something softer, the edges filed down, a cat that had been declawed.
not that she'd ever tell him, but she kind of likes having him around sometimes.
she sticks her tongue out at him playfully. “what, so you can tell everybody i kicked you out and i'm a terrible host? never.” she doesn't want ryan to leave. she hadn't thought about him leaving before, but now that the possibility has been raised, she doesn't want it to happen. her parents are out of town — some weekend trip for their anniversary — which means heather is all by her lonesome until they get back, and suddenly, the house feels too big for her, as though she's a small speck in a vast, unending space.
maybe it's the weed. probably it's the weed. “besides, if you go home, who's going to drink all my soda and complain about the snacks i bought?”
he'd never really found home anywhere. for him, “HOME” was just a four-letter word word for anywhere on the open road. he'd been crashing on couches, sleeping on floors, and sharing twin-sized beds since he was a kid— fretted over by friends' moms who felt sorry for him, or ignored entirely by the people who were actually supposed to be looking out for him. that sort of INNATE loneliness is consequence you pay for the freedom to come and go as you please. people didn’t care where he was, or what he was doing, as long as whatever it was didn’t effect them.
his parents, when they remembered their middle child, liked to call him a free spirit, untethered to real world problems. it was a BEAUTIFUL LIE they told to absolve themselves of the empty bedroom and the quiet phone. he knew they loved him and he loved them, but they had stopped speaking the same language when ryan hit high school and family dinner had become optional. they called when they could and when ryan chose to stop pretending he was busy in order to soothe the THINLY VEILED WORRY that breathed down the phone at him every time he picked up.
right now, the closest thing to home is heather's couch. a place to rest his head and kick his feet up, even temporary, reminds him why leaving home in the first place was worth it.
that ever-permanent smirk breaks itself into a full grin. he can feel heather's laser-pointer stare, her eyes BURNING HOLES into his skull. the weed makes everything a little more hazy, a little more heavy. he can't tell what she's thinking, but he can't confront that right now. a foreign feeling pricks at his chest, sticking in his throat. ryan doesn't know what to do with it.
❛❛ yeah, so i can tell everyone that you made me sleep out on the porch, ❜❜ there's a huff of a laugh somewhere in there, a short burst of REASSURANCE that they still couldn't stand each other. FOR THE MOST PART. even though she's on the other side of the couch and they might as well be on separate planets and asking her to move closer would be like willingly asking a hungry lion to bite your hand off.
the television flickers over his face, a genuine lightness to his sleep-edged voice. ❛❛ you're so american. i gotta put you on a mr. big bar. life-changing stuff, SERIOUSLY. ❜❜
he's not sure WHY he cares, but he finds himself wanting to clear the air between them anyway. ❛❛ i'm not going anywhere. unless you want to start charging me by the hour for falling asleep on your couch. ❜❜
for @oeuvrage
"Stop smiling at me like that." Coffee eyes widen, as Conrad realizes he's been caught. He actually brought a hand up to his mouth, as though in disbelief he could've actually been smiling enough to have been seen. Nope, he definitely had been. Busted, he thought, as a dull red brushed the tips of his ears. Despite his own embarrassment at being caught, Conrad's smile only grew wider, to the point it wouldn't be off base to call it a grin. There was defiance to it, though a noticeable lack of meanness as he let out a soft chuckle. "Who said I was smiling at you? Maybe I was just smilin' and you happened to walk in the path of it." Conrad's eyes went wide, as though he'd just offered a truly profound alternate answer for his expression. It fell though, as a little smirk graced his features. "And if that's the case, then I could ask why you were looking at me long enough to assume I was smiling at you. Real chicken and the egg situation on our hands, if we aren't careful."
MAYBE IT'S THE SUMMER HEAT gathering under his skin, interpolated with droning music, that gives way to an inevitable restlessness. he stalks the space like a hungry animal, seeking any distraction to anchor him to earth. the record shop today was DEAD QUIET, and ryan had already shuffled and re-shuffled through discs, smoothed the corners of the posters plastered to ever corner of the wall, even dusted the yellowing, untouched labels on the bargain bin three separate times. anything to keep his hands moving. anything to keep from looking up.
conrad was a FINE enough person to work with. could man the registers without asking too many stupid questions, could keep his head above water when it came to customer recommendations, and usually carried all the heavy stock into the back room without so much of a MUMBLE of misery. hell, he was even tall enough that he could reach for top shelf exclusives when all 5’11” of ryan struggled to. it was an annoying convenience.
still, boredom was a BITCH. he could hardly stand the sound of whirring fan blades and tinny 70s bleeding-heart love ballads any longer. and ryan, always a talker, could find a way to make a conversation out of ANYTHING. it was easy for his voice to carry across the empty store, a teasing jab thrown at conrad from where he stood behind the counter.
❛❛ dude, calm down, ❜❜ a laugh bubbles from his throat, an amused, unrestrained noise. hands raise in mock defense, washcloth waving in hand like a WHITE FLAG. ❛❛ i was just gonna ask you if i look like an idiot cleaning down the catalogues for the fourth time this hour. ❜❜
❛❛ also chicken and egg? ❜❜ his eyes narrow. ❛❛ are you an evolution DENIER, conrad? ❜❜ he shot back, a full-faced grin breaking through his irritation as he stepped out from behind the oldies section. ❛❛ THE DINOSAUR, ❜❜ he offers, phrase hanging in the air as he tosses the washcloth onto the counter in front of conrad. ❛❛ the dinosaur definitely came first. ❜❜
# LIFCGUARD — a low - activity indie heather holloway rp blog. oc & crossover friendly. heavily headcanon based. iconless + mutuals only. established 2026.
✦ ⋆ 𖤓 ⋆ ✦ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄 ··· a collection of injuries tended in silence, pain worn like armour, the intimacy of being seen at your worst. genre: hurt and comfort, angst, romance, drama.
• You're bleeding through your shirt. Don't tell me you're fine. • How long have you been walking around like this? • I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to see how bad it is. • You should have told me the moment it happened. • Hold still. I mean it. Hold still. • This is going to sting. Bite down on something if you need to. • You've been hiding this for days, haven't you. • Who did this to you? I need you to tell me who did this. • Stop being brave for five minutes and let me help you. • I've seen worse. I've also seen men die from worse, so let me look at it. • I found the bandages in the trash. You want to explain that? • Don't you dare apologize for bleeding on me. • Your hands are cold. That's not a good sign. • I'm not angry. I'm terrified. There's a difference. • Come into the light. Let me see your face. • You should have stitches. I know you won't go. So sit down and let me do what I can. • You're white as a sheet and still trying to stand up straight. • I could hear you in the night. I didn't say anything. I'm saying something now. • Don't look at it if it makes it worse. Just look at me. • It's not weak to let someone see you hurt. • You came to me. Of all the places you could have gone, you came here. • Lay back. You're not getting up until the color comes back to your face. • I'm not going to ask what happened. Not yet. First let me fix what I can. • You've been holding your left side since you walked in. Think I didn't notice? • This is going to leave a mark. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. • I've patched up a lot of people in my time. None of them scared me like you do right now. • You could have died out there. You could have died and I would have been the last person to know. • Sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere. • You're allowed to make a sound. Nobody's watching. • I need you to stay awake for me. Just a little longer. Talk to me. • You're lucky the cut wasn't deeper. • Stop apologizing for needing help. Stop it right now. • I've seen what it looks like when someone's used to this. That's what scares me most about you. • Tell me your name. Tell me what day it is. Stay with me. • You're going to be alright. I promise you. • You went back out there after this? With this? • Nobody takes care of you, do they? That ends tonight. • I've been gentle with you. I need you to be honest with me in return. • You're safe now. You're here, you're safe, and I've got you. Just breathe.
People We Meet On Vacation (2026)
❝ i don’t care how long it’s been. ❞
❛❛ do NOT say that about leftovers, flor, ❜❜ face twists like a petulant child's would, hand catching the open door of the refrigerator. he leans into her shoulder, peeking over her head into the endless expanse of forgotten takeout boxes and questionable tupperware. ❛❛ yeah, ABSOLUTELY NOT. ❜❜ a gentle hand comes up to wrap around her arm and pull her back a step to close the fridge door. ❛❛ well, that's decided. ❜❜ he offers a clap of finality, leaning back against the kitchen counter. ❛❛ I'LL cook tonight. what do you like? ❜❜
the impending DOOM of work in four hours weighs upon me, but i'm here to chat! need more ryan verses, need more ryan dynamics. always DOWN TO YAP & i'm working on pinterest so... plot with me, pinterest with me please and thanks. <3
bold for what applies always/a lot of the time, italics for what applies sometimes/dependent, strike through for what never applies
FLAWS !
moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | liar | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | petty | unlucky | absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | childish | callous | clingy | delusional | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cynical | cruel | depressed | deranged | egotistical | envious | insecure | insensitive | lustful | delinquent | guilt complex | reclusive | reckless | nervous | oversensitive | manipulative | gullible
STRENGTHS !
honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | protective | proud | diligent | considerate | compassionate | good sportsmanship | friendly | empathetic | passionate | reliable | resourceful | sensible | sincere | witty | funny
SKILLS & HOBBIES !
art | acting | astronomy | animals | archery | sports | belly dancing | bird watching | blacksmithing | boating | calligraphy | camping | candle making | casino gambling | ceramics | racing | chess | music | cooking | crochet | weaving | exercise | swordplay | fishing | gardening | ghost hunting | ice skating | magic | engineering | building | inventing | leather-working | martial arts | meditation | origami | parkour | people watching | swimming | puppetry | pyrotechnics | quilting | reading | collecting | shopping | socializing | storytelling | writing | traveling | exotic dancing | singing
TAGGED BY: @apoprockindajock TAGGING: whoever wants to, just tag me!
A LIL CONTINUATION FOR @dcllfang ; BAD VIBES BOULEVARD
as a rule of thumb, ryan safeguarded his survival on the account of THREE core directives:
1. keep the lights off—especially at night.
ever since ryan figured they were stuck on him like white on rice, he minimized as much attention as he could to his presence. which meant operating in the pitch black. which meant keeping the curtains shut at all times. which meant becoming a ghost in his own shoes. routine was a DEATH SENTENCE. he went analog, didn't frequent the same diners, and never let his head hit the pillow in the exact same spot two nights in a row. never leave a paper trail, always pay in cash. the less you YOU ARE, the more you blend in with them. creatures of the night never think twice.
2. keep the door locked and bolted.
3. don't trust anyone. never let anyone in.
night descended deliberately over the city. as soon as the sun sunk below the horizon, an invisible door in the ground seemed to open, and all THE ROT and the ugliness came pouring out.
by the time ryan had left the bar, the sky had darkened and the city was soaked in neon and shadows. he stuck to the lit paths, street lamps and fruit stands, BUSY PAVEMENTS flocking with businessmen scrambling to find the subway outlets. he hastened his steps past nightclubs and pounding music, averting his gaze from mean stares and scarred faces, tattoos and cigarette smoke.
up ahead, two people were emptying their pockets onto the pavement, turning themselves inside out with palpable fear. ryan caught the gleam of a gun and cut across the road to the other side of the street. ducking his head down, he clutched the straps of his worn backpack tighter as he turned into an alleyway. his keys were tucked between his fingers, the way he'd learned from frequenting cities that NEVER SLEEP. around him, the buildings rose like rotting teeth jutting from the ground.
the first thing that hits him is the smell. the smell of death, copper-tinged and tainting everything in its vicinity. then, SOMETHING ELSE. like perfume, sticky and sweet that coats the back of the throat before his eyes even adjust to the dimness of the alley. it's thick. heavy. the kind of smell that makes the hairs on the arms stand up because the brain recognizes it as wrong long before the eyes do. the blood soaking into his his sneakers is still wet, gleaming beneath the blinking lamp light, RIVULETS of red streaking down the asphalt.
the question leaves him before his brain can see the bigger picture. he's drunk, but still mentally kicks himself for an otherwise rookie move. he has to be quick if he wants this to be over fast. the city can clean up its trash WITHOUT HIM tonight. ❛❛ none, ❜❜ ryan murmured, cuttingly, forcing slow breaths through his lungs, though it did nothing to dissipate the pressure chamber between his ribs, slowly pulverising his organs. he takes a half-step back, his boots crunching faintly on a piece of broken glass. ❛❛ fix your face and get moving. i was never here. ❜❜
