#I’m really satisfied with my work and turned in a big project

[dimsilver]

🌸

[seeingivy]

casual

suguru geto x f!reader

**loosely based on casual by my beloved chappell roan

—

in the three months that you spend with suguru geto, he leaves a sour taste in your mouth and it’s not only because he tastes like black coffee. and in the two months that follow, before your deeply unfortunate circumstantial reunion, the last five words that you uttered to him, the sentiment behind them, only seems to grow. 

you can go to hell. 

and it’s all you can think when he shows up to the emergency room – a pinkish sunburn across his nose, his hair messily tied back – and eyes dripping in a concern that fills you with a rage. and it’s a deep sigh that he gives you, before reaching for your hand. 

“what happened to you, peach?” 

--

the general education class that you choose to satisfy your values and ethics inquiry is the sociology of religion. counting all the stakes – a stellar review on rate my professors, a night class at the start of the week, and minimal homework – it makes for the most ideal choice. 

“so what’s your major?” 

the downside? the midterm and final project are group assignments. and on any other occasion, you would have appreciated it – getting to split the work, taking some of the load off and sharing the work with someone, except for the fact that you didn’t know anyone in the class – and for the most part, you were expecting some half-brained idiot that would make you do all the work. 

you suppose it’s at least fair that he’s not horrible to look at. in the dimmed lights of your apartment, there’s something almost off putting about your partner, suguru geto. you count seven piercings across his ears – dangling silver pieces almost shining in the glint of the light – and the smallest rim of purple around his eyes. harsh cheekbones, a hard jaw, and wrinkles by his eyes. 

“educational studies. what’s yours?” you state. 

“computer science.” 

you hum in response, filling the two glasses with water and snatching one of the peaches from its container before taking your seat across from him, noting that he has a dimple on the left side when he smiles in response to your gesture. 

“did you want some?” you ask, holding the peach in between the two of you. 

he shakes his head, slumping against the counter in what seems an almost unnatural pose – his long limbs spreading into the space underneath your chair. you wonder if he always had an unusual way of taking up space. 

and it seems that as time goes on, he gets more and more unusual. quietly working through the portions that you split up, except for a few deep breaths here and there, though he would stop once in a while and would almost ask for approval of what he had written, waiting for some confirmation from you that it was okay with you. 

“you’re comparing adam and eve to…orpheus? i’m not really familiar with that.” you state. 

suguru nods, before turning towards you to explain. his eyes waver in the slightest as he turns over to you, his gaze flitting down to your lips, before looking back up at you. 

“you don’t have to be polite. you really can have some if you want, it’s really sweet.” you state. 

suguru smiles. 

“maybe later.” 

you shrug. 

“so orpheus…” 

“it’s a really old greek myth. orpheus and eurydice. to kind boil it down, eurydice is in the underworld with hades. and orpheus is trying to convince hades to let her return to the mortal world, with him.” 

he scoots his chair a little bit closer to you and you’re able to note one thing – that there’s a resonance in his voice, that it hums in his chest when he talks. 

“hades tells him that he’ll let him take eurydice with him, but on one condition. she has to walk behind him.” 

“that’s not that hard.” 

suguru grins. 

“isn’t it?” he asks. 

you pause. 

“you’re being told by this big, all powerful god, that she’s walking behind you. but you can’t look. you wouldn’t even consider the fact that you were being fooled? that maybe she had decided not to follow?” 

“i mean, i guess. i don’t think it would really cross my mind, i…i think i’d just follow out all the way til the end because i’d kind of have faith if that’s what i was promised. and that she’d want to come with me too.”  

suguru pauses, like he’s almost taking in what you’ve said – like it’s the first time he’s heard it – and responds rather slowly. 

“you’re rather trusting, aren’t you?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“is that such a bad thing? what do you think about it?” 

suguru shrugs. 

“it was a worthless pursuit in the first place. there was no way that he wouldn’t have turned around and looked back.” 

“what do you mean?” 

“it’s simple. he loves her. if he hears something that deceives him – like the sound of her tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back. if he thinks that she isn’t there, he won’t be able to get over it and he’ll turn around.”  

you pause, mulling the thought over. and you suppose it’s true – that if you really did love something, it would be almost impossible not to check for the promise of their presence. 

“i guess. so what? she goes back to the underworld?” 

“yeah. it’s one of the most tragic love stories.” 

“i guess it’s kind of romantic. that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.” 

and in the split second that the two of you stare at each other, he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours, with the strong taste of coffee lingering on his lips. 

you’ve kissed three people before in your life – the boy you sat next to in the seventh grade, your date to the prom, and now suguru geto. 

the first was overwhelming. a quick locking of the lips, that at the time, made you nearly erupt into a puddle of butterflies. the second was lackluster. waxy from too much chapstick, abrupt from the fact that he was quick to shove his tongue in your mouth. 

and the third was indescribable. only because you could feel it – something lingering under his demeanor that you couldn’t exactly place. there wasn’t a word for the feeling it gave you – though there was one that was close enough. 

curiosity. about what that feeling is, about who suguru geto was, and why he felt so inclined to kiss you upon your third meeting. 

you wanted more of it. 

“you’re right, you know?” he murmurs, breath warm against your lips. 

“about being trusting?” 

he laughs. 

“no. about the peach. it really is sweet.” 

he leans back, eyes fixed on the reading in front of the two of you again, as you reach up to touch your lips, the sticky sweetness of the fruit gone from your skin. 

--

suguru comes around often after the fact. always here and there, an almost abrupt and concise text testing the waters. 

[suguru]: is your roommate home? 

[you]: nope. she’s at the district. 

[suguru]: can i keep you company?

[you]: okay! 

and he always arrives promptly twenty minutes after the fact, to the point where you wondered if he lingered around just to get there as fast as he could. and never empty handed – with dinner, dessert, or a flower that he plucked out of the cement in his hands. 

that was the thing that confused you about him. 

after the very first time you kissed, he had made one thing very clear. 

no attachments. you’re not together. 

but yet, he’d show up sometimes and do nothing but kiss your forehead and sleep in your bed next to you. or make you do something entirely mundane – like watch toy story three with a sheet of cookies in your oven – or watch you study. 

and in the two weeks you had known him, you knew better than to question. your curiosity never stopped you, but you found that you were always left with more questions than the vague answers that he gave you.  

“hey peach?” 

“yeah?” 

“your mom is calling.” 

you widen your eyes, immediately snatching the phone from him, and giving him a weary smile. and you side shuffle into the walkway between the laundry and your bedroom, pressing the phone to your ear and murmuring under your breath. 

“hi mom.” 

“hi doll. how are classes?” 

you pick at the loose thread of your sweater, nearly breaking the seams of the sleeve, noting suguru’s curious eyes – that he’s very poignantly trying to hide – from the kitchen. 

“they’re good, ma. what’s up?” 

“right. i’m so sorry to do this to you, my sweet, but i won’t be home when you get back.” 

“what?” 

“we’re going on a trip to see sheila in new york. and well, her vacation is only during those dates and we want to spend as much time with her as we can.” 

you sigh, the frustration tempering in yoru chest. 

“i already paid for the tickets. i saved up for a month trying to buy a flight back.” 

“darling, i know. i’m really sorry, but you know how it is. she just gets so stressed out that we just wanted to go out there and make her holiday nice.” 

“and what about my holiday? you don’t want me to have a nice christmas with my family?” 

you can feel it burning in your cheeks – that embarrassing feeling that’s been simmering in your chest since you were kid. a mix of an insurmountable amount of envy and dejection, from trying to vie for attention from the second that you realized you never had it. 

“don’t try to make me feel guilty.” she scolds 

“i’m not trying to make you feel guilty! i just wished you would have thought about me too.” 

you hear an irritated sigh on the end of the line, which is your first sign that you had made a mistake. because if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was push your mom’s buttons. 

you wonder if it’s because she sees herself in you – and that utter hatred that she has for herself was now placed on you instead. 

“do you always have to be so curt with me?” 

“i’m not being curt, i just…” 

“maybe when i die, you’ll think back and wished that you had appreciated me more. been more understanding that i’m not just your mother, i am someone’s friend too. that i have my own life. and that at the very least, my friends like to call me here and there. acknowledge me while you do god knows what wherever you are.” 

“okay, well, i –” 

“enjoy your christmas. we’ll see you in the spring.” she states. 

there’s a static on the other end of the line and you drop your phone, staring at the dark screen in your hands for the few seconds that follow. and you must have been standing there for too long, because a few minutes later quiet footsteps accompany you in the dimly lit hallway, suguru’s head obscuring the light from the bulb. 

“hi peach.” 

“did you hear all of that?” 

“no.” he responds. 

you look up at him and glare. and he reaches forward, hands soft on your cheek wiping away the wetness that you hadn’t noticed. you’re not sure when you started crying. 

he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“you’re a liar. if you’re one thing, it’s nosy.” you respond. 

he smiles. 

“maybe when it comes to you. what happened, pretty girl?” 

you shake your head, his grabby hands coming around your waist as he presses you closer to his chest. you can hear his heart thumping against your ear, the metal of his necklace cold on your cheek, as you heave a sigh. 

“nothing.” 

“oh, come on, peach.” 

you look up at him, expectant and full brown eyes waiting for an answer, as you give in. 

“i just thought i would be going home next week for break. but i think i’m just going to stay here.” 

“because your parents are going to…” 

“see their friends in new york.” 

suguru frowns. you can’t tell if it’s pity in his eyes. 

“it’s not a big deal. i just was expecting to go home, that’s all. and it’s not that big of a deal that i’m going to stay here, the weather is nice and it’s probably frigid cold there.” 

suguru pauses. 

“you’re going to be here alone?” 

“yeah. my roommate is from the east coast.” 

“you should come home with me, for break.” 

you look up at him, eyes wide. 

“what?” 

“s’not that far from here, i usually just make the drive. there’s a nice coffee shop on the way that i always stop at for some energy. and my mom is really nice.” 

you shake your head, almost too violently. 

“i can’t just go home with you. i wouldn’t want to impose.” 

suguru pulls back, his fingers fast on the screen, as he murmurs under his breath, his voice uncharacteristically soft. 

“you’re not an imposition to me, peach. i can’t leave my baby here alone.” 

“sure. but to your parents, and…and staying rent free in your house.” 

suguru grins, handing over the phone to you, as you read the texts on the screen. 

[suguru]: can my friend come home with me for break? her name is y/n. 

[mom]: YES!!!!! 

[mom]: A GIRL! 

[suguru]: not like that

[suguru]: but she’s sweet 

[mom]: I’M GETTING EVERYTHING READY 

you look down at the phone, noting the sweet heart emoji that he has near her contact name, the contact photo a picture of the two of them when he was considerably younger, hugging cheek to cheek. 

“and i stay rent free in your apartment all the time.” 

“suguru, this is…weird. i can’t just come home with you, that’s…that’s too much.” 

he shakes his head. 

“it’s casual. we’re just friends, you’re just coming home with me for break so you won’t be here alone.” 

right. you’d almost be inclined to believe him – if it wasn’t for the fact that the time you spent around him, the more curious you got. 

the more that feeling festered in you, wanting to know anything and everything about him, wanting to crawl deep into his skin and memorize everything and make sense of why he was the way he was. 

“you promise?” 

“for sure.” 

--

“you’re a loser.” 

mei mei is never one to mince her words. and you’re grateful for it – because it’s something that you need when you return from your two weeks stay in long beach with suguru over the break. 

because despite the words that he told you, the ones that you didn’t really believe anyway, you come back in a worse state than you expected. 

you think you love him. 

because in the days of uninterrupted time that you spend together, you let your mind wander too far. because in the quiet moments that the two of you had – knee deep in the passenger seat outside the stupid coffee shop you stopped at, giggling in the bathroom when you went to dinner, and tangled in the bed sheets with him every night – you let yourself taste too much. 

let your mind run a little too wild. thinking about meeting his friends at the pier he showed you, of living together in an apartment in the following year. 

and the two of you teeter a dangerous line. putting each other as emergency contacts, swapping your wardrobe in between your flats, and showering together every morning – his soft hands massaging the shampoo into the roots of your hair.  

“don’t be mean.” you state. 

“i’m not being mean, i’m just saying that…” 

mei mei sighs, cheeks in her hand, with an almost irritating look in her eyes – wholeheartedly judgemental. she just didn’t get it. 

“look, he’s friends with todo. that guy i know from the finance club? and i asked around about him, apparently he loves to brag about how he gets girls off all the time. now either he’s talking about you – clearly not the way you talk about him – or he’s talking to someone else.” 

you sigh. because you can’t even put it past him. because in the months you had known him, he was impossible to understand. a futile effort to read. impossible to touch. 

“look, i’ll just ask him later.” 

and when he comes around your apartment, well after mei mei has left, he brings a slice of peach cobbler that his coworker insisted that he take home with him. 

“peach cobbler for my peach!” 

you wince. 

“that was corny. even for you.” 

“i saw an opportunity and i took it.” suguru responds, shrugging as he loops his arms around your waist, chin resting against the top of your head as he eyes the pot of boiling ramen on your stove. 

and you bite the bullet as fast as you can. 

“do you see other girls?” you ask. 

“huh?” 

you swallow hard, dry patch in your throat, as you feel the sweat tickling the top of your forehead. it’s from the heat of the stove. 

“do you see other girls? or guys?”

“no. do you?” 

you shake your head. and you’re unsure how to word the next question – because there was something humiliating, too bare about having to admit that you want more to him – when things were so sweet as they were. 

perhaps you should have known better. coffee was always bitter at the end. 

“why do you ask?”

you shrug. 

“dunno. was just thinking about us. and how we spent break together and all that.” 

suguru presses a kiss to your hairline. 

“yeah? did you have fun?” 

you hum in response. 

“yeah. i really liked the city. and your mom and your sister. it was really sweet of you to take me.” 

you pause, wincing as you decide to be as blunt as possible. 

“and i like you.” 

he laughs. 

“well, i like you too.” 

“no, no, i like you. well, i more than like you, but i…i can’t say those words.” 

there’s a silence. and his arms feel like loose limp noodles around you. and you realize now, that you made the wrong choice. you turn around, only to find hollow brown eyes staring at you, the makings of a frown on his face. 

“suguru?” 

he winces. 

“i can’t.” he whispers. 

“why not?” 

and you’re not sure what it is, but it throws him into a panic. with his facial features scrunched up, eyes hollow, and nervous hands running through his hair. 

“i just can’t.” 

you cross your hands over your chest, the bitter contempt of rejection blooming in your chest, as you look down, picking at the scab on the inside of your palms as you ask again. 

“i said i didn’t want any attachments.” he adds. 

“i know. but can you blame me for being confused? you took me home to see your family.” 

“as a friend.” 

“you didn’t act like my friend while we were there.” 

suguru groans. 

“and that’s my fault, i know that but –” 

that one stings. admitting that he regrets it. 

“okay, well. that’s alright. maybe you should leave now, then.” you state. 

“wait peach, no. i don’t want to leave, i just..” 

you scoff. 

“you don’t want to leave?” 

“no?” 

it comes out meek, almost timid when he utters it. a question. like he can’t even admit it fully – that he wants to stay. and it fills you with anger, searing red hot anger on the heels of being cast aside so nonchalantly, that it comes to a head then and there. 

“do you really think so little of me?” 

“what? 

“i’m not good enough to be your girlfriend. but whatever else you want, that’s fine. i…i thought you thought of me better than some girl you just fuck around with.” 

suguru sighs. 

“you’re not some girl i just fuck around with.” 

“am i not, though?” 

suguru shuts his eyes, the look on his face is so pained – so miserable – that it irritates you. 

“you’ve made it abundantly clear. that you like me a decent amount, but not enough to care about whether or not you’ll lose me.” 

you bite down so hard on your lip that the taste of metallic blood fills your mouth, coupled with warm tears in your eyes. 

“and for that, you can go to hell.” 

--

“what happened to you, peach?” 

you scoff, curling your nose at the old nickname, as he yanks the closest stool – his legs still too long to even be comfortable on the thing as he leans forward, noting the dried blood on your forehead. 

“a car accident. you can leave now.” 

suguru frowns, almost resembling a kicked dog, as he shakes his head. there’s something softer about his expressions now – something you’re sure is a byproduct of the time you spent apart or the fact that you have a broken rib – and you choose to ignore it for the time being. 

“i can’t just leave.” he whispers. 

“and why not?” 

suguru shakes his head. 

“you have a broken rib. and a deep cut on your forehead. forgive me if i’m concerned about you.” 

“i can’t. knowing you, you’ll casually linger around here for a few days, and when you figure it’s appropriate to leave, you’ll be gone with the wind.” 

the two of you sit there in silence, the harshness of the words hanging in the air between the two of you. 

and yet again, suguru geto leaves you with a never ending pit of curiosity. about what he was doing here, to ask how he is – to make it a note to him that his cheeks look fuller, that his eyes aren’t rimmed red anymore, and that he looks good. 

that you like the new hairstyle. that it killed you when he wasn’t around anymore. that you still want him to go to hell. 

suguru twists the silver ring on his pointer finger a few times – a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth – before you break the silence, your curiosity getting the best of you another time. 

“why are you here?” 

“they called me. i’m your emergency contact still.” 

“no, i gathered that. why are you here?” 

suguru pauses, swallowing hard before responding. 

“if orpheus hears something that deceives him – like the sound of eurydice tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back.” suguru states. 

you scoff. vague again. 

“right.” 

“no, really. i got the call. and i didn’t think and just showed up. i just…just had to see you.” suguru states. 

he pauses. 

“it’s kind of romantic, don’t you think? that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.”

you turn to glare at him, at the audacity of him repeating your own stupid words back to you. 

“is it? because his carelessness left her in hell with hades.” 

suguru scoffs. 

“i never did tell you the end of the story, did i?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“orpheus becomes so distraught that he uses his lyre to charm death – just so that he can return to the underworld to be with her. and people debate how it happens, him being ripped apart by irate women or getting killed by the menades, but it does happen. he dies and goes to the underworld. and in some versions, people think that he reunites with her in the underworld. and she forgives him.” 

“and why would she do that?” you ask. 

“because he tried his best to do right by her. he was asked to do one thing – to stay away. and that’s what he did, because…because i know you’re right. because you do deserve better, i do think the world of you and think you deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you, the way that you want.” 

suguru pauses. 

“it’s not my fault that i can’t help but look back. i can’t do anything about the fact that i love you.” 

you swallow hard, an embarrassing amount of regret – mixed in with that deep longing that he left in your chest – searing through you. 

“in the casual way, right?” you respond, sarcastically. 

he groans. 

“it’s not casual at all. it wasn’t casual when i leaned forward to taste the sweetness of the peach on your lips – especially when i fucking hate peaches. and it wasn’t casual when i took you home with me, it was…i just couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone. and it’s not fucking casual that i drove three hours when i was supposed to be home this weekend just because i the thought of you sitting in this room alone, in pain, was driving me crazy.” 

you wince, turning to look at him. and it seems that in the mere acknowledgement of his presence by locking his eyes, it seems to fill him with something – something that puts the whisper of a smile on his face. 

“what?” 

“i turned around for you. i didn’t know i would, but now that i have, i…i realize that i probably always would have.” 

“okay?” you whisper. 

“are you going to forgive me for it? not doing it earlier, for…for not getting it right the first time?” he asks. 

you pause, mulling the thought over. and the silence, he takes it as an invitation to plead his case. 

“i’ll beg. i’ll get on my hands and knees if that’ll do something to make it better.” 

you turn to look at him. 

“you…you’re special. i haven’t forgotten about you and…and i know we had something. just let me fix it? i’ll get you a hundred gifts, i’ll tell you a hundred times and i’ll - oh!’ 

he reaches into his bag, shoving his arms into the depths of the pockets, before yanking out a little napkin and reaching forward, opening your hand and placing it in your palm. 

“a tissue?”

“open it.” 

and you oblige, unfolding the tissue to see four little gummy peach rings in the napkin, before turning back to him. 

“peach rings?” 

“for my peach! i eat them all the time now, even though i fucking hate peaches. i only had a few left so i grabbed what i had left when i ran out. and i ate some on the way on accident because i was nervous, worried about you and all..” 

you look down, the sugary crystals on the candy almost sparking in the light, as you look back at him. and he's wholeheartedly different - not the cool, cold guy you left behind, but a weird mess of awkwardness and jitters, and maybe even the tiniest hint of desperation.

he seems wholeheartedly more touchable this way.

“you make no sense.” you state.

suguru frowns. 

“i know. but i’m trying.” he responds. 

and you sigh, wiping your hands at your side, before eating one of the candies. bitter at first, but sweet at the end. 

“suppose that’s my problem then. i’ll have to figure you out.” you respond. 

suguru’s face splits into a smile, his motions so eager as he leans over the railing of the bed, the angle entirely off as he leans forward to kiss you. and it’s entirely different from every other time you’ve kissed him – full and whole, a warm and tender promise behind it. 

“you’re wrong, you know?” you whisper. 

“about what?” he murmurs. 

“the peaches. they taste good.” 

he laughs. 

“is that right?” he whispers, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips, as he wavers his eyes up again, to the cut on your forehead. 

he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bandages, before pulling back, lips lingering over yours. 

“i think i need one more to decide.”

--

an: idk.

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[livvidaloca]

what!? liv made human designs for the watterson family again!? yes, she did, and here’s her train of thought for these under the cut:

so, these are actually for my fic that i’m writing on ao3 in which gumball finds himself transported to another universe in which everyone is a human after the events of the inquisition. this is why there’s very few animal traits on any of them, or magically colored anime hair. i wanted them to look like people who could exist and walk around.

in this, nicole is blasian and richard is a white latino (with frankie being white non-latino and jojo being latina). (also these headcanons were based on a lot of convos with some of my friends back in the day, i don’t remember anyone’s reasonings for these but they’ve been true for so long in my brain) gumball and anais are mixed, and i tried to nod to gumball taking more after nicole and anais taking more after richard without making them carbon copies. and then darwin of course is black thats just canon

as for their designs themselves, i’ll start with nicole. i tried to make her look decently muscular (although the simplistic style i used doesn’t exactly show it off). her blue bandana and shoes are obviously a nod to her canon design, so she doesn’t look like an entirely different character. as for her hairstyle i looked into relatively low-maintenance styles, since she’s a busy woman! and her hair is starting to gray from all that STRESS!

richard’s design is the most straightforward, yet it took me the longest because i was never satisfied with how it was turning out. i’m still not sure if i’m crazy about it. all i know is that i was dead set on making him bald, since there’s literally a whole episode about that. I didn’t commit all the way because the design without any hair was making me lose my mind. i gave him some freckles as a nod to his whiskers because they’re a lot more prominent than nicole’s (which is why she doesn’t have any). this also translated to gumball’s design. also, how could i ignore the obvious choice and not give him pink bunny slippers!? it fits him so well!

gumball was fairly easy for me, because i kinda always have human designs for him in mind. i always give him those blue sneakers because duh, and i always give him dyed-blue hair that he visibly doesn’t maintain. i always had this human-version-only headcanon that gumball BEGGED to dye his hair for the longest time, and nicole finally allowed it on the condition that he’d keep up with it on his own. he didn’t. classic gumball

darwin’s design is also usually an easy one for me. big orange hoodie, green shorts and sneakers. this time i also made the decision to have his hair tied up to resemble his little fin. it’s not really visible with their clothes and stuff blocking the original sketch, but i also tried to make his legs a little bit lankier than gumball’s, just to make them appear longer like they are in the show.

as for anais, i always have trouble nailing the design without it looking like a completely different character. i cant dye her hair pink, because she’s supposed to be four, but i also can’t give her pink shoes, because she’s of course the only one who actually has shoes! then i remembered ribbons and my day was saved. still not sure if i’m completely sold on her design yet, though. i think she looks a little older than four.

anyways, i’m planning on doing other designs like these with other characters! let me know if you’re interested. as for that fic, here’s the link:

[valaryswrites]

🪐 where tony baddingham wants you back.

warnings: (requests are open btw) pure fiction, no gender specified, dirty talking and english is not my first language. tony himself is a warning, tho. but again, pure fiction. scroll if you don’t like it. (requests are open btw)

You used to work with him some years ago.

No, not with him. For him.

You were his favorite screenwriter. His golden star. The only person he trusted enough to take some big, important decisions.

Then, you left. Left the country, and left him. There was a different project located on the other side of the world that you wanted to be a part of. And you were.

Tony let you go, knowing that sooner or later you’d be back.

“I’ll make you the highest-paid person in Corinium.” He said, trying to convince you.

“You know it’s not about money, Tony.” You told him firmly, crossing your arms over your chest and hoping he could understand. “You were insatiable. I’m afraid I won’t have enough creative freedom if I work here again.”

But Toby Baddingham hated the word “no”. He liked to think that everything in the world could belong to him.

“Come on, darling.” The man sighed, standing up from his fancy chair and approaching you. Not so close, though. “I can guarantee you all the freedom you want.” He promised. “We used to be a good team, you and I.”

You frowned, but there was a little smirk making its presence in your face. A team… a team? You used to fuck. Work during the day, fuck during the night. It was a routine.

“We weren’t a team, Tony.” You told him. “We were lovers.”

“Well, you used to make me come and I used to make you come.” He shrugged, both his hands in his pockets. “Doesn’t that make us a good team?”

You sighed again, and Tony knew he had to push further.

“Your potencial is wasted without me.” He assured you.

That wasn’t true; and Baddingham knew it as well. Your potencial was not wasted without him.

But hell, he did help. The money, the demands, the defiance. He did make you work better. Write better.

“You have hired plenty of new writers, I see.” You said, pointing to the empty desks outside his office. “Why you insist? Is it because I was the best you ever had?” That chuckling you let out after that last question made his blood boil.

“Of course I have to insist.” He firmly told you. “I know your potencial better than anyone else. I want you here again. To increase the rating and to remember the good old times.”

“To remember what, exactly?” You asked, aware of the answer.

“You know exactly what I mean, dear.” He took a step closer to you. “The late nights in this office, the discussions over your insane ideas, the mind-blowing sex we had…”

Ah, there he was. The Tony Baddingham you knew.

“It wasn’t that good to me.” You lied.

God, it was. It really was.

“You always seemed very satisfied.” He chuckled. Another step.

The way he was closing the distance between you and him was almost magnetic. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose or if it was a reflex. It used to be like that, during the the good old times. Magnets.

“Did you find another affair while I was away?” You asked. No shame.

“I’ve had other women.” He admitted. “None of them as good as you, of course.” Oh, that boosted your ego. “As eager and talented. I would have you writing wonders for me in the morning and riding me like an animal at night. It’s difficult to find an equivalent.”

You rolled your eyes, but that grin on your face was present. So, so present. He missed it.

“I miss your body. That bloody look on your face wanting to wreck me...” Tony exhaled, as if he was remembering the sight. “But I miss that beautiful, clever brain of yours too. And I want it back.”

Ugh, he was convincing you. You wanted the job. You needed it. And deep down you knew your writing was at its highest success when you were there.

“Highest salary.” You demanded, while your index finger pointed directly at his chest, almost touching it. “And you won’t turn down any of my ideas without trying them first.”

“And if I don’t like them?” Baddingham asked.

“You’ll give them a fair try either way.” Another demand. “Or I’m out. When did I ever do something you didn’t like, though?”

Not a good question.

“Well, I didn’t like when you left Corinium, and left the country, for starters.” He chuckled. “And left me, of course.” He said, in case you’ve forgotten. As if you could! “I would get into this office very morning and deal with some imbecile people, and then end up here, all alone, with no one to eat out over my desk.” The man teased. Another step closer. “I would sit on that chair, look at my empty desk and think of you kneeling under it…” He continued.

The bastard was making you picture all those things.

No.

No things; but memories. They were real once, during the good old days.

He was so close to you now that his hand traveled to the nape of your neck, and then back to your jaw, caressing you.

“Your pretty mouth, taking such good care of me…” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, and then sliding it barely into your mouth just to touch the tip of your tongue.

So you bit his finger.

Tony hissed, but that smirk on his face betrayed any type of irritation he might be feeling.

“Give me the damn contract.” You said, brows furrowed.

“Ah, that’s my girl!” Baddingham smiled widely for the first time in days. He handed you a stack of paper. “I’ll leave you alone so you can sign it.”

“I’m going to read it first.” You said, threatening him.

“Ah, you’ll be fine with it.” He assured you. “You start next week. 11AM to 6PM.”

“Everyone here leaves at 5PM.” You protested.

“Yes. But not you.” He giggled, about to leave the office. “You’ll work for an extra hour.”

“And you’ll pay me that extra hour.” You said, no question.

“Yes.” He nodded. “But just not with cash.” Tony Baddingham winked and left.

And you signed.

[eiightysixbaby]

You can take this as a request if you’d like or just a fun thought but I’m just thinking about pumpkin carving with Eddie and he’s making these really cool designs while your just struggling and he’s trying so very hard to be a good supportive bf but once you show him your atrocious carving he’s just like “Dude, seriously? Did you even try?” so you squish some pumpkins guts into his hair and you end up in a pumpkin-guts-fight with each other and gets it it everywhere and you make a complete and utter mess and when the hell is it my turn???

oooooh I love this lmao!! he’s such a jerk but I love him so much.

You set your knife down on the table with a thunk, holding your hands in the air exasperatedly.

“I give up. I actually give up! I cannot get this knife to cooperate with me,” you groan, pouting like a child as you glance at your pumpkin. Eyes and a nose and a mouth drawn in marker mock you, a few jagged cuts here and there from your knife.

“Did I give you a faulty knife, baby?” Eddie asks, pouting right back at you as he places a comforting hand on top of yours.

You both know it’s not the knife’s fault, but to appease you he gives you a different knife anyway. One with a slightly bigger blade, a sharper edge.

“Try that one, sweetheart, see how it works for you.”

You huff, picking up the new utensil and using your other hand to stabilize your pumpkin. The knife presses in, your hand moving it in and out of the orange rind slowly, following your drawn pattern. You feel like it’s barely moving, meanwhile Eddie’s carving away across from you. Like it’s easy. Like it’s simple.

You feel like every cut you make is jagged, or when you do get into a rhythm you lose it just as fast, knife flying out in the wrong direction and ruining the design you’re trying to go for.

“Eddieeeeee,” you whine, slumping back in your seat.

He’s the picture of concentration, his tongue poking out of his stupid adorable mouth as his knife glides through his pumpkin. He’s currently carving Eddie, the mascot for Iron Maiden, having hand-drawn the design himself with all of its intricate details. It makes you sick, watching him. The way he doesn’t struggle at all.

He looks up at you, big brown eyes sympathetic as he sees your frustrated state. He sets his knife down, pausing his work. The glow of the kitchen light makes him look angelic.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Carving pumpkins sucks!” you say, propping your elbows on the newspaper-covered table and dropping your forehead to your open palms. “I’m so bad at this. How do you make it look so easy?”

“I dunno, I just… don’t overthink it? I guess?” he says, lips turning down as he thinks. “C’mon, you’re not bad at it, you’re just stressing yourself out too much. This is just supposed to be for fun, so we can put them out on my porch and light them up, yeah?” he continues, smiling when you look back up at him.

You ease up a little, his cute dimples making you smile. “Fine, okay, yeah. I’m just overthinking it. I can do this,” you say, picking your knife back up, ready to resume your project.

And… it really doesn’t get any easier, but you get less angry about it. Sure, your eye twitches a little as Eddie slides over his first pumpkin, eager to carve a design into his second while you’re still not even halfway through your first. And sure, you honestly want to fling your knife at his forehead like you’re playing darts when he shows you the next extremely detailed design he’s chosen and mastered. But really, you’re not getting mad. You’re not getting frustrated. You’re just having fun.

Finally, at long last, you finish your pumpkin. You set your knife down once more, letting out a sigh.

“Okay…. I’m done. And I’m not doing my second one,” you decide, simply satisfied that you’ve completed one.

“Let’s see it,” Eddie urges, rubbing his hands together.

“Uh… do I have to show it off?” you ask meekly, chewing your lip as you look at your jack-o-lantern’s mangled face.

“Yes, you have to show it off. I’m going to see it eventually,” he says, already getting up from his seat to come around to your side.

You turn your pumpkin slightly until it looks at him head on, your eyes watching Eddie as he takes it in. His face contorts, lips pursing as he tries not to laugh. But it’s too late, you caught the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“Oh for fucks sake,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest when Eddie finally cracks, laughter erupting from his chest.

“Baby, I’m sorry - I just… did you even try here?” he snorts, walking away for a second to try and collect himself, only to lose it again when he turns back around. “It took you that long to do this!?”

“I hate you, I actually hate you,” you say, getting up from your seat.

Eddie, far too busy laughing at the pumpkin’s choppy grin, doesn’t notice you grab a wad of pumpkin guts from the middle of the table. He doesn’t notice you turn to him, doesn’t notice you draw your arm back, but he does feel it when a cold mass of goo hits the side of his head.

“Hey!” he shouts, fingers pulling strings of pumpkin innards from his hair.

You giggle, biting your lip to hold back a full-blown laugh.

“Oh, it is so on,” he challenges, grabbing more pumpkin in his large fist.

You shriek, running from the table but it’s no use, a glob hits you right on the back. “I’ve been hit!” you shout, clutching your chest dramatically.

You’re able to sneak back in, your quick reflexes allowing you launch another handful of guts at Eddie, landing right on his chest. You’re about to run, but he grabs your arm, pulling you right to him. You turn to face him, his free hand smearing pumpkin right across your face as you do.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your mouth agape as he cackles maniacally. “Edward Munson…” you warn, fingers furiously wiping pumpkin away from your eyes. “You are in for it,” you say, pointing a finger at him.

“Only if you can catch me!” he taunts, pumpkin goop in one of his hands as he slips out the trailer door.

You laugh, scooping up your own bit of ammo and following him out into the cold night. You might run around the trailer park like children for a while, chasing after each other in fits of laughter. Any neighbors watching must think you’ve both lost it, two grown adults covered in pumpkin, but neither of you can begin to care.

Once you’ve finished your war, Eddie puts the pumpkins on the porch, being sure to put yours front and center. A candle lights the inside, bringing the face to life in all of its wonky glory. His pumpkins loom behind yours, far superior in their level of artistry. You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry a little bit as you look at them.

“Honestly, it’s growing on me,” he teases in reference to your abomination, looking down at you where he’s pulled you to his side.

“Shut up,” you reply, smiling when he squishes you into him and kisses your head.

[tolietpaperdreams]

Warned You Chapter 6 (Shawnter)

Omg 500 years later and I'm finally back with another chapter lmao. Thank you guys sm for your patience and understanding, I'm finally feeling back in the swing of things, so the next chapter should be up sooner rather than later. Hope you enjoy <33

That's me in the middle bc these two are kicking my ass emotionally 🙂

Shawn woke up with his face smushed into Hunter’s back. He’d slept so hard that he almost forgot where he was when he finally opened his eyes and came to. Hunter was warm and cozy, the bigger man was a furnace and Shawn always wanted to curl as close as possible to him.

Touch was Shawn’s favorite way of expressing his love. For a while, it was all he knew how to do, but now it was just a preference. Talking was never easy, but it was getting easier. And waking up next to his favorite person every day made it worth it.

He was in a good mood considering the fun he had yesterday as well as the night prior. Owen probably had something crazier in mind for them to do today, and honestly, Shawn was all for it. The youngest Hart brother was easily becoming a confidant for him.

As Shawn cozied up to Hunter a little bit more, he thought about how much he would miss his partner being home. Not that he liked that Hunter was injured, absolutely not. But the thought of the bed being empty now made his chest tighten.

Shoo-ing those thoughts away, Shawn nuzzled his face into Hunter’s back. It was still early, and the plan was for Shawn and Hunter to workout together today, so as far as he was concerned, he had no reason to get up until they both decided to.

Eventually, Shawn dozed off again until he could feel his partner shifting around.

“Good morning,” Hunter’s voice was deep and silky, just the way Shawn liked it.

Shawn lifted his head and looked over Hunter’s shoulder, “Morning, how'd you sleep?”

“Better with you curling up next to me,” Hunter smirked and turned to pull Shawn into his chest.

Shawn let out a satisfied hum as he nuzzled into him. No matter how much Hunter tried to be menacing, to Shawn, he was just a big teddy bear.

Hunter gently scratched at Shawn’s scalp, relaxing him even more. He had been in such a better mindset since yesterday, he just hoped it would last.

“What’s the plan for today?” Hunter asked, closing his eyes again.

“Not sure,” Shawn lifted his head to look at the bedside clock briefly, “It’s still pretty early.”

“I wouldn’t be upset if that means I get another round of what I had last night,” Hunter lifted Shawn’s chin with a finger.

“Oh really?” Shawn couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face, “I’m sure we can make that work.”

Hunter was about to respond when a noise from outside of their bedroom startled them.

“Not sure how our guests would feel about that,” Shawn rolled his eyes and moved to get up, “I’ll go see what’s up. It’s probably Owen breaking our toaster.”

Hunter chuckled a little, “He’s not that destructive.”

“We’ll see,” Shawn snickered as he threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” Hunter replied as he got comfy in the bed again.

Shawn left the room and headed for the kitchen, he didn't actually expect anyone else to be awake given the hour, but he stopped once he heard voices from the kitchen.

“What am I supposed to do? Just suck it up?” Bret said in a low tone.

Shawn assumed both of the Hart brothers had gotten up beforehand and were wreaking some kind of havoc in the kitchen, but the conversation seemed tense.

“I don't know,” Owen answered, his voice less hushed than his brother’s, “Talk to him?”

“There’s no point,” Bret said in a huff.

Interest peaked, Shawn decided to stay hidden from view so he could catch on to what the conversation was about. There was a stretch of silence before Owen continued.

“You can't keep everything bottled up, this is how you ended up in this mess.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Bret snapped in response, both of their volume still barely above a whisper, “Clearly, I wouldn't get what I want.”

What he wants? What could Bret be whining about now? He already had what he wanted as far as Shawn was concerned.

Owen kept trying, “I'm not saying you would, I'm just saying you'd probably feel better.”

“Oh my God, Owen,” Bret groaned, “Are you friends with all your exes?”

This was definitely not a conversation Shawn was supposed to be hearing. Part of him told him to run and jump back into bed with Hunter; that's where safety was, but the other half, the dumber half, insisted that he stay and listen.

Owen spoke louder than he meant to, “You’ll never be able to let go of your feelings for Shawn if you pretend they don't exist, Bret.”

Oh no.

Shawn felt his gut twist and his chest tighten; it was suddenly hard to breathe. He leaned against the wall, trying to digest what he just heard.

“Will you shut up? Their room is right there!” Bret’s tone was pinched as he scolded his little brother.

“Sorry, sorry,” Owen quieted down, “All I’m saying is that this is never going to end if you don't talk to him.”

“So that he can just laugh in my face? I told you, it’s pointless,” Bret sounded almost sad.

Before Shawn could gather himself and plan his escape, he was met with Bret coming around the corner. The brunette’s eyes widened at the sight of him, and Shawn quickly pushed himself away from the wall.

“Shawn-” Bret’s voice tremored.

He couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe. There were so many thoughts going through his mind all at once it felt like his world was caving in.

“I-” Shawn swallowed, unable to say anything.

Owen quickly appeared, having heard the chaos from in the kitchen, “Shit- Hey Shawn,” he tried to sound normal like they weren't just talking about something monumental.

The look on Bret’s face was one that Shawn had only seen once before. It was the look he made backstage after the Screwjob; It was hurt and confusion.

Bret stepped towards him but he quickly backed up, “Listen-”

He couldn't handle it anymore, Shawn turned and headed to the bedroom as fast as he could. Abandoning any thought of coffee or breakfast, trivial things were far from his mind now. As soon as he was in the room he saw that Hunter had fallen back asleep. Oh God, how would he tell him?

The bathroom was the only place to hide as Shawn tried to calm his racing heart. He splashed water on his face from the sink and prayed this was just some sort of bad dream. Not knowing what to do or where to go, he sat on the edge of the tub and put his head in his hands.

***

“Shawn?” Hunter’s voice was muffled through the bathroom door, “Babe, you've been in there awhile. You okay?”

Some time had passed. Shawn had no idea how long he’d been in the bathroom, maybe it had only been thirty minutes, maybe an hour. He didn't know and he didn't care.

How was he going to tell Hunter what he’d learned? Should he even tell him at all? Bret must have come up with some elaborate ruse to convince Hunter that they were friends just to get close to Shawn.

That thought alone made him furious. It didn't matter how many arguments or sleepless nights he had, no one fucked with Hunter. It didn't matter who it was.

He quickly tried to think of some sort of excuse and cleared his throat, “Yeah, just thought I'd do some- uh- some cleaning before you got up.”

Hunter opened the door, his hair was wild and he still had a sleepy look on his face, “You were taking a while in the kitchen, I didn't mean to fall back asleep.”

“That’s okay,” Shawn stood, his tone on edge.

He’d been hunched over so long he’d forgotten how badly his back was going to ache now. Hunter looked around the bathroom, there was clearly a lack of cleaning supplies out. It was practically impossible to get anything past the man, Shawn didn't know why he even tried.

“Something wrong?” Hunter asked, moving from the doorway.

Shawn tried to think of something quick, “Just- moving slow, I guess.”

That wasn’t technically a lie, but he just didn’t have the energy to talk about what had transpired yet. Shawn could barely gather his own thoughts, let alone explain to his partner what was going on.

“You still wanna hit the weights together?” Hunter asked.

Shawn quickly shook his head, “I think um- I think I need to workout alone today. I just want to see what I can do by myself.”

He hoped that made sense to his partner, that it would appeal to his competitive nature.

Though Hunter could clearly see that there was more to the story than Shawn was letting on, he gave Shawn a look and moved on, “Okay… I’m gonna get in the shower then.”

Shawn was grateful for his partner’s lack of questions, “Right.”

He moved to brush by Hunter, but the bigger man stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Be careful.”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Shawn nodded and left the room.

Owen was pacing in the hallway when Shawn exited the bedroom, “How long have you been here?”

“Twenty minutes- thirty maybe? I don’t know, but we have to talk,” Owen looked stressed, more stressed than Shawn had ever seen him.

“You think?” Shawn responded, his voice slightly louder than he intended.

He didn’t need to worry about whispering with Hunter in the shower, but the principal still stood.

“You haven’t told Hunter yet have you?” Owen stopped his pacing and grabbed Shawn’s shoulders.

Shawn fought the urge to yank away from the blonde’s touch, “No, I haven’t told him. But if I had, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”

Bret had been lying the entire time. He was never friends with Hunter, he was only using him to get closer to Shawn. Why he would want that? Shawn had no idea; after everything that had happened, Bret shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Still having feelings for Shawn was another thing entirely.

“I get that- but just don’t tell him yet,” Owen was pleading.

“Why shouldn’t I? Your brother has been deceiving both of us this entire time, he doesn’t give a shit about Hunter’s concussion,” Shawn spat.

“That’s not true,” Owen stepped back, “He’s not that kind of person.”

“How do I know you haven’t been in on it the entire time either?”

It truly hurt his heart to say that. Shawn was starting to see the youngest Hart as a friend, something he didn’t have a lot of. The hurt look on Owen’s face showed him exactly how much his words stung.

“You think I would’ve let Bret come here if I’d known?”

That made sense, the Harts were not people to make rash decisions, but that didn’t change the frustration and confusion Shawn was feeling. It was all just too much.

Shawn sighed, hoping he hadn't upset Owen too much, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Me neither,” Owen’s shoulders slumped and he let go of Shawn, “Bret wants to leave, but I told him it would look bad. I don't know what he was thinking.”

It would’ve been pretty easy to come up with some sort of excuse, but Shawn understood where Owen was coming from. Unfortunately, he’d probably be forced to do what he’d been avoiding this entire time. Shawn felt his stomach sink as the feeling set in; he’d talk to Bret. About everything, or at least, he’d try.

“Is there any way you can distract Hunter while I talk to your brother?” Shawn asked with resignation in his tone.

“I can try, I make a mean protein pancake,” Owen tried to sound optimistic as he gestured down the hall, “He’s upstairs.”

“Thanks,” Shawn gave Owen a pat on the shoulder as he walked past.

Shawn hesitated as he made his way up the stairs. He had no idea what he was going to say to Bret, confrontation wasn't his strong suit, even though he’d done it quite a bit in the past. Mentally, Shawn was so exhausted from the situation that part of him wanted to pretend he never heard it, but that wouldn't fix anything.

He could hear movement in the guest room as he got closer, if he stopped now, he could turn around and bail, but that righteous voice that wanted to fix things in the back of his head urged him on.

The guest room door was half open as Shawn peaked in. Bret’s clothes were scattered haphazardly throughout the room, suitcase on the bed. If he was determined to leave, he certainly wasn't going about it in an organized way. Bret was sitting on the side of the bed facing away from the entrance.

Shawn didn't want to waste any more time and lightly rapped against the door. Bret turned quickly, almost as if he was spooked out of his thoughts. He didn't say anything as he slowly stood and faced Shawn, his expression was grim.

“Shawn-” Bret started.

“Don’t,” Shawn held up a hand and stepped further into the room, “Just let me say what I have to say…

Please.”

It was the only way Shawn could think to get his point across. He didn't want to yell or fight, he just wanted Bret to listen.

“You made Hunter think he was your friend-”

Bret tried to interrupt, “That’s not-”

“Just listen, Bret. Please,” Shawn pleaded as he closed the door behind him. He tried to keep his voice level, “I’m not sure what you thought coming here would accomplish, but if you wanted to make me feel stupid, then you succeeded.”

Insult aside, he continued, “I know you're not a bad person, and I know that I hurt you. But I can't just stand here and let you do the same thing to Hunter. He's not the bad guy here.”

Shawn wasn't sure if what he was saying made sense, he wanted it to be about himself as little as possible, but it didn't look like there was an easy way to go about that.

“Do you really think I would do that?” Bret gave Shawn a look like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“I don't know. I haven't talked to you in forever, how do I know you don't have ulterior motives?” Shawn crossed his arms, wanting to be as shut off from the conversation as possible.

“Do I need to remind you how we ended up in this mess in the first place?” Bret furrowed his brow, his patience thin.

No, he didn't. Shawn knew exactly how they got to where they were, and he knew that it was entirely his fault. Their relationship had already been on its downfall at the time, but The Screwjob was the catalyst that set everything aflame.

“This isn't about Hunter,” Bret carried on, “He’s my friend. I'm here because I care about him and we work well together. What you heard…”

He trailed off, but Shawn finished for him, “What? It was just a coincidence? Please, I'm not stupid.”

Bret scoffed, “God you're impossible to talk to, always have been.”

Typical Bret, immediately on the defensive. Why talk about the real reason all this was happening; when the remorse and anger could be pushed somewhere else?

“At least, I'm trying to change,” Shawn snapped back, “The only reason you're here is because I wanted to make things right.”

“Of course it is. Because you can’t sleep at night with all that weight on your shoulders,” Bret rolled his eyes, “You’re not sorry. You just want a clear conscience.”

Shawn’s eyes widened at that. Is that how Bret saw it? He couldn't see how truly sorry Shawn was? Yes, Shawn did want a clear conscience, but that didn't mean he wasn't mournful. He didn't want to make things right just to be done with it, he wanted to make things right because it was the right thing to do. Because he hurt people, and it took breaking his back to see how wrong he was.

Pain for pain. If this was Shawn’s karma, he should just deal with it. Suffer through it, but he knew that wasn't the correct answer. He just didn't understand how Bret could say such cruel things and still claim to have feelings for him. There was a sadness in Bret’s eyes that only Shawn knew he could see, and he pushed away the part of him that wanted to fix that. Bret’s emotions were his own to handle.

Shawn finally spoke after a long stretch of silence, “I wish you could see that I am, but I won't beg you for forgiveness.”

Bret didn't respond right away, he simply took in Shawn’s words and sighed.

“I won’t tell Hunter… yet,” Shawn added, “But he has to know at some point. If you leave now, he’ll have questions.”

At that, Shawn stepped out of the room and left Bret to his own devices. Whatever the Hitman decided now, was up to him. That conversation was far from over, but it was all Shawn could handle before he felt himself beginning to lock up.

***

The rest of the day was awkward. There was nothing to do and Shawn, as usual, was restless. He debriefed Owen on his conversation with Bret after going back downstairs, but that was it. They hadn’t come to a proper solution.

Everyone was to keep their mouths shut until Shawn decided to tell Hunter. Maybe he’d wait til the Harts were gone or maybe he’d say ‘fuck it’ and just light the impending fire.

Despite his back, Shawn lifted heavy that day and now he was paying the price for it. He considered downing an extra pill or two, or ‘going for a drive’ and hitting the closest bar he could find, but ultimately, his pride wouldn’t let him. Bret’s hurtful words still lingered in his mind, how the brunette thought he wasn’t truly sorry. It pissed Shawn off and if anything, made him more determined to prove the other man wrong.

Hunter, bless his heart, was none the wiser to the transgressions of that morning. Shawn was certain that his partner would see right through Shawn’s walls, he always had in the past. Maybe Hunter was so tired of all of it that he was just pretending that everything was fine.

Despite their awkward encounter in the bathroom, Hunter must have noted it as one of Shawn’s moods and moved on. If there was an awkwardness in the air, then Owen had been the saving grace. His chipper demeanor and overall optimism outshined Shawn and Bret’s ornery attitudes, thank God.

“I’m bored,” Owen whined, having flipped through the channels on the TV a good three times.

“You don’t have to be here, you know that right?” Bret griped from the opposite side of the room.

“Can we go out?” Owen took a look at his watch, ignoring his brother, “It’s almost seven, we’ve done nothing all day.”

“I don’t drink,” Hunter pipped in, he opened his mouth to continue but stopped, not wanting to speak for his partner.

Shawn picked up on Hunter’s hesitation, “I don’t drink anymore, at least, not for now.”

He earned a raised brow from Bret, the older man looking slightly surprised at what he had heard.

“We don’t have to go drinking,” Owen added, the younger Hart was clearly not used to being idle, “We could go out to eat or something.”

Bret scoffed, “As if Kayfabe isn’t dead enough. Shawn and I being seen in the same place would give Vince an aneurysm.”

The more Shawn thought about it, the more Owen made sense. Despite the fun he had with Owen at the Halloween store yesterday, it seemed like they were limited on things they could do outside of the house.

Four pro wrestlers cooped up in a house with no outlet, besides a few weights in the garage, was a spell for disaster. And considering the way things were already going, it couldn’t get much worse.

“Poker?” Hunter looked around for any opposition, “I have some old Cubans for special occasions too.”

Gambling and smoking? Shawn was certainly not opposed to giving into his lesser-tapped vices, but he honestly had never played a single hand while sober. Maybe he’d actually win for once.

“I’m down,” Owen’s eyes lit up, “What’s the pot?”

“Fifty to start,” Shawn scratched his chin, “Winner of the first round picks the next.”

“Cheapskate,” Bret huffed, “Get ready to lose.”

“I don’t need to win,” Shawn gave a sly look to his partner, “I just need Hunter to.”

***

“Four hundred dollars?!” Shawn cried in horror as he watched Owen gather all the bills in the middle of the table and pull them towards him.

“You can always win it back,” Owen offered, glee in his voice.

Shawn looked to Hunter, “Four hundred dollars…”

“What am I supposed to do? You got cocky!” Hunter gestured to the cards scattered around the table, “I didn’t know Owen was good at poker.”

“Why do you think I was playing it safe?” Bret added with a laugh.

Shawn was in disbelief, “That’s what you always do, I just assumed you sucked at poker.”

“He’s gotta be cheating,” Hunter pointed in Owen’s direction, his accusation wasn’t serious, but there was agony in his voice, “No one beats me.”

“Well I just did,” Owen grinned and held out his hand, “It was the whole pot and the rest of your cigars I believe?” He made a grabbing motion with his hand.

“I might actually cry,” Hunter said in anguish as he watched his money vanish before his eyes and forked over his beloved case of Cuban cigars.

It wasn't like any of them were hurting for money, the good thing about their line of work was once it paid off, it really paid off. Shawn, Hunter, Bret, and Owen were all top performers no matter what company they performed in, but losing a big game of poker definitely took a shot at their pride.

Shawn knew he wouldn't win, so he wasn't surprised at all when his initial fifty dollars were blown. He had one of the worst poker faces known to the game, but watching Hunter get pummeled by Owen was like watching a warrior fall in battle. Hunter had very few vices, but he always seemed to luck out when it came to cards. His luck had unfortunately run out.

As Owen dealt out the next round, Shawn couldn't help but think about what was to come. He couldn't stay grounded in the moment and enjoy time with his partner and guests; not when one of those guests was staring him down like a target. Bret’s face was impossible to read, and even though they were supposed to be enjoying each other’s company, the awkwardness of the morning lingered.

Shawn felt his palms grow sweaty and inched his chair closer to Hunter.

“Hey, no looking,” Hunter pulled his cards toward his chest, oblivious to Shawn’s current state of anxiety.

The whole situation wasn't fair to anyone involved, Shawn wanted-no, needed to say something to his partner. Keeping Hunter out of the loop would only make things worse. But how would he react knowing that he willingly invited someone into his house who still had feelings for Shawn? It was easy for Owen to act nonchalant because at the end of the day, none of this was his problem.

It was better not to cause a scene, he’d tell Hunter in private.

As the evening went on Shawn did his best to keep up a facade, but every time he made eye contact with Bret, a mixture of emotions would punch him in the gut. The worst part about it was that he couldn't identify the feeling; it wasn't anger or hatred, but he wished it was. It leaned more toward understanding and ultimately, fear.

Fear that once Bret was gone this time, he’d be out of Shawn’s life for good.

[hizznbyte]

is there any lore about neri/neni/your sona? id like to know more about them :D

Oh heck yeah! I’d be happy to talk about it [but be warned, once I start talking I’ll never stop..]

Nerium/Neri, the weird hijabi cat you might see everywhere on my blog is my main persona/mascot and basically just an artistic representation of myself, so anything that applies to them also applies to me LOL.

Neri is genderfluid/nonbinary and fluctuates with using any pronouns! It doesn’t really care about labels and is, truthfully, just a creature. An entity if you will. He doesn’t enjoy the idea of being perceived and prefers to be a background character. Neni is what I call that stupid chibi version of him with the big ass eyes. His design is always changing cuz I’m never satisfied sighh.

She has the social, navigational, and life skills of a toddler [that is to say, she can’t really do anything right]. She’s pretty slow and clumsy, always stumbling around and losing a constant battle with the world [he is not gods strongest soldier] Also, he’s an insomniac, so I often draw him with eye bags. Neri would prefer to stay indoors and sleep until noon, but he’s got work to do and is something of a procrastinator.

One of the most important things about Nerium is that they are kind of state of like? Mental disassociation? Their mind is so fractured and split that it kind of manifests as these multiple alter egos or personalities? Typewriter/Type being one of these. I call them PersoNeris :3

Typewriter is the more serious, stoic, work oriented one and is the biggest perfectionist ever. Constant resting bitch face. A bit of an ass. I made this comparison before but he’s kinda like the Inner Critic to Nerium LOL

As for Noodle… that’s what I call the ugly tiny little doodle version of Neri. The Neri Doodle. Noodle if you will… Typewriter has a version of the Noodle called a Toodle! Their designs are meant to simple and drawn super quickly so I don’t waste time on details [Noodle specifically doesn’t have arms unless absolutely necessary, then it just appears out of thin air!]

I will say, Nerium doesn’t have much “lore” [as in, fictitious story lore] because like I said, he’s just an over exaggerated version of me. However!

[I know you probably didn’t ask but I enjoy yapping] Since maybe… four or five years I’ve been working on this original world building project called Blood Magic, and it is so dear and special to me and I could talk about the lore all day long. I’ve spent countless hours working and writing stuff for this story I’m sorry I get annoying about them. Basic rundown is that there are two gods -an author and an illustrator- called the Higherups, a council known only as the overseers, a tribe of demons and angels [typical fantasy story shtuff], a planet I dubbed Planet Nerium inhabited by humans, animals and… furries..

The two main characters are the false-protagonist/antagonist type character named Trinity -Trick- Ambrose and a furry cat protagonist named Trip Sterling. I’ve drawn and posted about Trip before! My daughter!

Blood Magic is split into two “seasons”, each with multiple acts. There’s BM: Total Anarchy and BM: The Heart Keeps Beating [TA and THKB for short]. The idea is to turn this into maybe a series of novels or some sorta indie animated series? We’ll see.

I’ll save the lore dumping for some other time, but only if yall are interested XD

Thanks for the ask anony!!

[yuzurujenn]

[2024.05.31] FaOI Aichi - 2024 Show Guide · Latest Interview with Yuzuru Hanyu

I can’t fully express myself with just one program

This will be Yuzuru Hanyu's second appearance at Fantasy on Ice as a professional skater. We asked the charismatic figure skater, who has been giving amazing performances in collaboration with artists every year, about his thoughts on his latest collaboration.

The poignancy and strength of the music in the collaboration

- I'm looking forward to the collaboration on the 2024 tour.

Hanyu: This time, I'm collaborating with T.M.Revolution /Takanori Nishikawa. I've been listening to him since I was in elementary school. When I heard he would be performing this time, I thought, 'No way!' I was really surprised."

- Do you feel like it's a perfect fit for your generation?

Hanyu: Maybe I’m a little later. (laughs) But my older sister is right in that generation, so I’ve listened to him a lot. I thought he was amazing, and I often listened to his music while warming up.

- The song that you'll be skating to this time, "Meteor" by T.M.Revolution (Takanori Nishikawa's solo project), is one of the famous songs known as the insert song for "Mobile Suit Gundam SEED" (aired in October 2002).

Hanyu: I wanted to do 'vestige' too, but there are so many songs that I like. I also wanted to do 'WHITE BREATH,' 'THUNDERBIRD,' and other mellow songs, as well as "ignited".

- The song titles are coming out one after another.

Hanyu: Because I've been listening to them. I still don't know what kind of program I'll make. Because I’ve been listening for so long, I initially had no image at all. I was wondering what I could do, and I also have a strong desire not to break the essence of the music. I want to create the choreography while always thinking about what kind of synergy will be created when I incorporate myself into a completed piece of music. However, I feel it might be a bit off to lean too much into Gundam during my performance. It’s challenging, but I want to express the poignancy, strength, and driving force that the song and lyrics convey. I don’t know what kind of choreography it will be, but I definitely want to express those feelings.

- Every year, Hanyu appears as the final performer and closes the show with a wonderful collaboration, but you also perform with full effort during the opening and finale. It feels like you're skating to three songs, how do you feel about that?"

Hanyu: Actually, including warm-ups, I think I’ve done three pieces, but this year, I'm thinking that maybe I'll do two individual programs.

- Eh, really!

Hanyu: "Eh?" That’s what you would think right? It's like, 'Hanyu, are you okay doing two programs?'"

- I think Hanyu can handle it with ease now.

Hanyu: That’s right. In "RE_PRAY", I performed over ten songs!

- It will be a big gift for the audience.

Hanyu: Of course I'll give it my all from the opening, but as I continue to work as a professional, I've come to think that I can't fully express myself with just one program. I'm sure that among the fans who have high expectations, there are of course those who want to see more, so if I'm going to show it, I want to give it my all.

- I'm really looking forward to it.

Hanyu: As with "RE_PRAY," my basis is "contrast." I see myself as a skater with a wide range, so I’m thinking if I can make this program and this collaboration, in such a way that they both stand out. I don’t know how it will turn out, but right now, I want to skate two programs. I'm still thinking about what to skate.

- Possibility of a new piece?

Hanyu: I don't think that's possible. I think I'll be overwhelmed with choreographing "Meteor." For the other piece, I want to show a more traditional skating style. In addition to that, I want to convey the dynamism unique to a collaboration at this stage.

- Do you enjoy showing the contrasts?

Hanyu: More than anything, I want to satisfy those who are watching. As a professional.

- Of course, that's true from the performer's perspective, but it also reflects a strong producer's sense, doesn't it?

Hanyu: The reason I had decided to only perform one program in Fantasy until now was partly due to physical limitations, but also because I wanted to give 120% to that one program. Now, I feel like I can give a bit more than that, so I think it’s possible to do something like this to better satisfy everyone. After all, I’ve skated to over ten songs.

- When it comes to working with artists on an equal footing, Hanyu is in a class of his own. Usually, it feels like skaters try to conform.

Hanyu: I don’t approach it with the mindset of trying to match up, as it's different to experience the music with your eyes. For example, when an artist makes a music video, it's not just the music playing in the background, right? For example, sound effects (SE) may be added to the music. It's the same with the "Meteor" PV, where the music suddenly stops and a story unfolds. When you press the play button again, the song resumes. Just like that kind of production, I believe that the collaboration with figure skating isn’t just about the music existing alone. It’s about visualising it, which leads to the creation of unique works, so if I'm going to do it, I really want to cherish the process. That's why, as with “Raison” and “Real Face,” which I have performed in Fantasy in the past, I have received many requests to perform them again, but I think that those programs were made possible only because of the live singing and the unique atmosphere of that venue. I would like to create something like that again.

I want to improve. That's all.

- During the interview for the Makuhari performance, Keiji Tanaka mentioned that he learned how to behave as a professional by watching you at Fantasy on Ice. Do you feel that by excelling in the show, you’re conveying something through your actions?

Hanyu: It makes me happy to hear that because I’m currently pushing forward with 'ICE STORY,' and if it serves as a turning point for others, that’s great. I think it's wonderful for the quality of skating in Japan to improve. However, I don’t think in terms of wanting others to become like me; more than anything, I just want to improve myself, so if everyone else gets better, I just want to get even better than that. I think that hasn’t changed since my competitive days.

- That determination is really amazing.

Hanyu: It's not really determination. It feels normal to me. But I think that at the root of it all is that competitive streak that I've had since my competitive days. How should I put it, I can't forgive myself for being bad at something. I can't forgive myself for skating without any meaning, including not being able to keep the rhythm. When someone asks me, 'Why are you doing this?' I don’t want to give a performance that says 'Just because.'  I guess I don't want to lose to myself. (laughs)

- By the way, you are now creating your own shows and working to spread the beauty of figure skating in a variety of ways. I imagine your days are busy and filled with pressure. For example, do you have any recurring dreams?

Hanyu: Yes, I do. I still find myself dreaming about competitions. It's not that I want to compete again, but I guess it's a kind of trauma.

- Is it like your consciousness is drawn back to that?

Hanyu: Even now, when I’m performing in shows, the feeling is almost the same. I’ve been competing for 20 years after all. In my dreams, there are times when I am competing in the All-Japan Championships. The 6-minute practice has already started, but I haven't put on my shoes yet. I'm like, "No way, no way, no way!" and it's really stressful. (laughs)

- Do you wake up from those dreams?

Hanyu: I do. I wake up thinking, 'I had a terrible dream~'

- By the way, what was your last good dream, or what was the dream you had recently?

Hanyu: Recently, I dreamed that I was at the All-Japan Championships in Big Hat (Nagano), warming up. Then I heard my name being called out, 'Yuzuru Hanyu!'. I thought, “What? I’m still warming up and haven’t even put on my costume yet. What do I do?” I’ve had that dream about four times recently. (laughs)

- That really conveys the tension of the All-Japan Championships.

Hanyu: That's what bad dreams are like, but good dreams are like dreams about jumping a quadruple axel. I tell myself that this is a dream, and jump about five times for image training. When that happens, I get a sense of it, so when I wake up, I quickly move and jot down all the sensations I experienced.

- Thank you very much for sharing such valuable insights. I'm even more excited about your performance at Fantasy on Ice 2024.

(Interviewed in April 2024)

Source: Official Program (Aichi Performance) / "Fantasy on Ice 2024" Info: https://fantasy-on-ice.com/goods.html

[extrasteps]

30 and 74 - DNF

George scowled at the rude email he’d received the night before from his client. He’d been stewing over it all night, and it didn’t look any less annoying in the cold light of day. Not even the grande vanilla bean creme frappuccino that was currently sitting next to his mouse was enough to cool his ire.

He took a long drag of the sugary goodness and then set it down, cracking his fingers before resting them over the keys.

“Here is a list of all the ways you are wrong,” he typed in reply, ennunciating each word as he typed. “First of all…”

He wrote like a demon possessed, itemising every reason for why no, the code he’d sent this moron was not, in fact, incorrect, and did, in fact, do everything he’d promised. He included screenshots of the stupid fucking code working perfectly on his end, even going so far as to use photoshop to draw large, flashing arrows to the relevant places.

It was sarcastic and even utterly scathing in some parts, as he all but called the client an incompetent baboon for being unable to run such a simple code within his program.

With an evil smile, George reread his work and then, satisfied, clicked send.

“Suck on that, idiot,” he said, glancing over the e-mail address. What kind of a dumb name was Dream anyway?

The rest of his drink tasted like victory, and was all the more sweet for it.

***

“George,” Skeppy said, popping his head into his office. “You got a minute?”

He hummed an affirmative, fingers moving rapidly over the keys as his eyes tracked the code he was building for a different client.

“Earth to George?” Skeppy said.

He typed one last line and then sighed, letting his hands fall from the desk. He looked over at Skeppy. “What is it?”

Skeppy rolled his eyes. “Bad says he wants to see you in his office in five.”

George waved him off, mind already back on his current project. He did flick a glance down at the clock though. Bad was a good boss. He didn’t want to piss him off.

Four and a half minutes later, he sat up and stretched with a loud groan, locking his computer before getting up and making his way down the hall.

Bad’s office door was already cracked open, so George let himself in. There was a strange dude sitting across from Bad already, with a bunch of dumb curls twisting in every direction and shoulders that were more broad than they had any right being. George disliked him on sight, and ignored him as he turned towards George.

Instead, he dropped down into the other chair, giving Bad an expectant look.

“George,” Bad said. There was a hint of warning to his voice and George internally sighed, sitting up from his slouch and raising an eyebrow at Bad.

Satisfied, Bad turned towards the other man.

“Dream, this is George. You mentioned that you had some concerns with the coding he sent to you?”

George’s head whipped to the side. This was the incompetent baboon who had disparaged his work?

Dream had the grace to look a touch embarrassed as he turned to meet George’s icy glare.

“Um, yes. It’s very good code, of course, but it doesn’t seem to be compatible with our program,” Dream explained hesitantly. “I’ve passed it onto our IT guys, and, best they can tell, there was an update to our program only a few days ago that didn’t play well with George’s code.”

Bad nodded and hummed thoughtfully. “Did you raise this with George?” he asked.

Dream’s shoulders turned in slightly. “Not exactly,” he hedged. “That’s why I’m here, in person. I wanted to apologise.”

He turned to face George more fully, the earnest look on his face bringing to mind some big, dumb Golden Retriever. 

George was more of a cat person.

“For what?” he asked brusquely.

Dream brought a hand up and scratched at the scruff that covered the lower half of his face, looking sheepish. 

“Well, you see, I’ve been told in the past that my emails come across as really rude-”

“Understatement of the century,” George muttered.

“-so my company hired someone to uh, vet my emails, as it were,” he continued, either oblivious to George’s comment or deliberately ignoring it. “Well, they rewrite them, to be completely honest.”

George didn’t respond, just staring at him, silently urging him to get to the point. He loathed wasting time like this, even to talk to idiotic dog boys with big hands.

“I normally just write the email and schedule it to send, and the intern rewrites them before they’re due to go out at 5pm. Unfortunately, I didn’t realise until it was too late, and I’d received your reply, that she had left early yesterday.”

“Oh,” Bad said. “Well, that sounds like just a misunderstanding then. George has worked here for a long time, and I know his reply would have been understanding.”

George suppressed a wince. Understanding was definitely not a word that could be used to describe his response to Dream’s email.

Dream glanced at George, his lips thinning.

Oh God, George thought. He was totally going to rat him out.

“Of course,” Dream agreed.

Wait, what?

“But I still thought I should come and apologise in person. The error in the code wasn’t George’s fault, and I didn’t want him to feel responsible when I requested for it to be redone,” Dream explained.

“I’ll add it to the schedule,” Bad assured him, and the two of them rose, shaking hands across Bad’s desk.

George stood up as well, nodding at Bad before trailing after the ridiculous giant. Dream paused and turned to him, but George stone walled him, stalking past him to make his way back to his office. He didn’t realise until one of those ridiculous hands stopped him from closing his office door that Dream had followed.

“I am sorry, you know,” Dream said, giving a rueful smile as George continued to ignore him, flopping into his office chair.

“Whatever,” George said dismissively, unlocking his computer. “I’ll do you stupid code. Just get your people to send me the new version of your program.”

“Of course,” Dream agreed easily. He still hovered in the doorway, looking expectantly at George.

George turned to face him. They both looked. And looked. 

Reluctantly, George mentally noted that Dream’s body was built like a triangle and he wanted to climb him like a tree.

“There will be an extra fee included,” he said to Dream eventually.

Dream’s eyebrows rose. “A fee? For what?”

George turned away from him, fingers moving over the keys already. “To take me to dinner.”

Dream let out a hoarse bark of laughter. George ignored him, checking his emails. There was already one in his inbox from Dream’s company with the new program specs included.

George closed down his previous project, opening this one instead while Dream let himself out.

A smirk dancing on his lips, George started typing.

[openworldadventurer]

hey! if i recall correctly, you were a writer on kingdoms of amalur? after playing the demo over 10 years ago, i finally got around to playing the entire thing thanks to humble choice and re-reckoning. just wrapped up the main an hour ago and just wanted to hear where you were at with the game these days. what was your favourite part to write? what did you think turned out best? were there any darlings you had to kill as per the saying? and anything else you want to share about it

Aw, I’m so glad to hear you got a chance to play it! It did kind of disappear into the void for a while, so I’m glad that you got a chance to return to it! There are so many good games out there, and only so much time to play them, so thanks for spending your time on one of my babies!

So, I was responsible for building the main questline (along the broad story outlines of the higher-up folks, of course), and I still have fond memories of working on it. My favorite was writing for Agarth, which makes sense when you realize the character’s broad personality was basically just me. Originally, he was supposed to die early in the story, but people liked the character so much we kept him alive and made his inexplicable survival part of the story!

As for darlings that ended up on the cutting room floor, there were lots (as there always are for big games like this), but the one that hurt was the original plan for the final boss fight. Originally, you were supposed to slowly learn how to summon those alternate versions of yourself, and you beat the boss by summoning every infinite alternate version of yourself to team up and defeat them — literally using the freedom from fate as your weapon. But the realities of production meant that fight scene had to be scaled back and those “alternate selves” became enemies you fought. Not as narratively satisfying, I felt, but that’s how games go.

That said, my real regret is how the studio closed, terribly and painfully for everyone involved (look up Big Huge Games and 38 Studios to read that tale of woe, I won’t repeat my teary story here). It also meant we never got to work on the sequel, and I had a really exciting alternate take on the classic “orc” trope that I was sad never got to see light. My write-up for their culture and gameplay is still sitting in my design portfolio, waiting for the right project to take root…

[kitkatsudon]

What made you want to start writing Unbreakable?

(PS I got tumblr for your Gonjo theories lol)

Wow, thank you so much for asking! And first of all let me say that I’m really honoured that you care enough about my theories to make this account 🥺 I need to post more to be honest, but right now a lot of them are caught in a trap of being spoilers for the next important project.

As for why I wanted to write Unbreakable… the short answer is that, as a Yeong stan I was unsatisfied with Taegon, and it annoyed me so much that I felt compelled to write a fic to fix that SKFSLKJFKLJK something where Gon would have to face consequences for how Yeong was mistreated, before eventually they would be able to make each other happy for the rest of their lives. This was… perhaps inspired a little by my own life at the time, where I was in a complicated situation with a straight girl that I liked, a kind of situation where it was almost as if we were together even though we weren’t… and recently she’d got a boyfriend, and I was pretty heartbroken despite having no real reason to be 😅😅 it’s embarrassing looking back, but I connected with Yeong a lot because I saw my situation at the time in how he might have felt about Taegon.

The longer answer is that while that was the initial reason, it quickly became more than that. I have a bad habit of writing the first chapter of a fic without really knowing where it’s going, I just know where I want it to start, and only when that first chapter is done do I really start thinking about “cooler” twists and turns for the story to take. The act of writing the fic itself made me start thinking about Yeong’s family, and wanting to explain the age gap between Yeong/Eunseob and the twins while also trying to explain why Yeong is the way he is. I have a habit of making myself sad while daydreaming about my beloved blorbos, and my general rule of thumb is “ohh this would be awful - let’s write it!”

The surprising thing for me, however, was how as the story progressed… it stopped being a way to vent from Yeong’s point of view, and I started to really identify a lot more with Gon as I was writing. Obviously I was still feeling Yeong as well, but what started off as a way to complain about Gon turned into something where I really wanted to explain his point of view in a way that was sympathetic and understandable. To be honest, I think a lot of this came from my friends at the time telling me that they think I’m autistic, and then me looking at Lee Gon and going “wait a damn minute… why does the research I’ve been doing seem to fit with how I’ve been writing him?” Then I started projecting, and from about chapter 11? 12? onwards I started doing what I’d accidentally been doing before on purpose, and that also became a big driving factor. This is a hill I will die on, and at some point in the next… well, few years, being honest with myself about how fast I’m working now I’m at uni, I do want to make a post on this headcanon for Gon because it’s important to my heart, but I want to finish my detailed rewatch of the show first. TL;DR, halfway through writing I switched sides from being a Yeong defender to a Gon apologist, and then that became a big driving force for the fic.

But mostly… they just live rent-free in my head, and that was the summer after I finished school so I had a lot of free time to write, and I really enjoyed working all my headcanons at the time into a fic that tied up enough loose ends to satisfy me after the show just left me feeling frustrated. Nowadays, Unbreakable is kind of out of date for me honestly - working on another fic with @irregularpeach has created so many more headcanons than I ever could have dreamed up on my own, and now the multiverse is pretty extensive in my mind 😅

I hope you didn’t regret asking me this question - it’s perhaps a mistake to get me talking about my precious blorbos, because I will talk. From my part, thank you for giving me this opportunity to shamelessly witter on about my fic, this really made me smile when I saw it!

[rocketturtle4]

Why is Akk So Relatable? A self-indulgent reflection.

Heyo so I once again, watched a BL series and related way too hard to a main character so it’s time to write an indulgently long post about said character so I can go back to sleeping normally!

(Previous installments were Arthrit and Tonhon) (@wen-kexing-apologist @plantsarepeopletoo if you wish)

This post is going to be a BIT LOT different from those posts because those posts were about the characters and their arcs and why they felt satisfying. This post is about Akk pulling out my personal self from high school and shoving that individual right in my face for 12 brilliant episodes so rather than leaving me with a vague feeling of being seen and understood, I am instead left with a whole lot of stirred up memories and emotions and so I have no idea where this is going.

Let’s GO

Building up Akks character in my head

In my projecting I feel like Akk probably built up his image of himself through middle school, he probably worked hard and had good grades, he wanted to go to a big school (possibly with Suppalo specifically in mind) and prove himself beyond his roots.

And then he got into it, he actually got in! (his parents are so proud!) and he was grateful and respectful and proud to wear the uniform and uphold the rules. His makes some friends, and these friends are happy to follow his rule abiding ways provided they indulge in some fun from time to time

And now he has authority and he puffs out his chest and uses it wisely because he’s important, because the teachers are relying on him, because his parents are proud of him. He’s doing good afterall.

[Ayan's Dad: "The head of student prefects. My boy!"]

He’s built up this image of who he is, not as a mask but as a genuine identity, He IS respectful and rule-abiding and confident and strong and so he NEEDS to maintain the order because the adults are TRUSTING HIM. (and his parents are proud of him).

And then what happens?

He wants something that's wrong (wrong to him, wrong to his image, wrong to his understanding of himself),

Wanting something is so dangerous to your own self image of (false) perfection. I remember wanting things in highschool, especially the last two years, things I believed I wasn’t supposed to want, things that people around me wanted, but they were teenagers, they had no self control, But I have self control, the adults TRUST ME, I don’t really want these things, If I want these things than all my adults will be disappointed because it turns out I’m just a teenager afterall.

And what does Akk want?

(for the record I am specifically framing the want as a what and not a who because in my context it wasn't a person)

Ayan

(who can blame him)

And then the cracks start to appear, not in his faith in the school, not yet, but in his own self image. Why does he want these things? (Can he have them?) What does wanting these things mean? (Is he bad?) If he takes them…(no don’t think of that).

Since I’m going full self-indulgent-head-cannon I am going to throw in the metaphor for self-falseness that I used in high school

I have erected a glass box around myself, the walls are clear to me and yet not to others, to others they show only the me I have created. Everybody can see into my box and yet no one can see me as I am. Only the perfect me is visible, only the good me, only the smart me, only the respectful me. The me banging on the walls of the glass prison I have erected is silent and invisible to everyone else. Why have I made myself silent? Why have I made myself perfect? and now that I have made myself this way…how can I unmake myself?

To unmake oneself can be the hardest thing of all.

Akk hurts me specifically, because while so many teenagers have a tough time for so many reasons it's normally depicted as so messy and unsure and there’s always these outside stressors on their self-image, or a lack of knowing who they are, and while the teachers in this show are ABSOLUTELY outside stressors that I will be talking about if this ramble ever winds that way, they’re not the primary maker for Akk’s sense of self. They’re a primary reinforcer, because in some ways they’ve stopped seeing him as a teenager, but they didn’t make him that way.

Akk’s pain is due to his internal identity crisis not for wanting something different from his parents or his friends but instead for wanting something different from himself

In this dichotomy of his OWN identity, the who he sees himself as vs the him who wants Ayan is the reason I don’t think I will ever be able to stop thinking about him.

I think the show did this really well (and also actually pulled a LOT of its punches (thank God)) because the thing Akk wanted, both wanted him back and could SEE HIM. Not the him through the box but the him IN the box.

Akk moments that emphasise this dichotomy

Because they’re rotting my brain

His moments with his parents (Original Identity)

[Ayan's Dad: I'll make him wear the uniform and take photos with you.] [Ayan: To make our family proud.]

His moment with Ayans Mum (New Identity) (with flavours of the old because there’s a lot of responsibility firmly tied in with this)

[Ayan's mum: Thankyou for taking care of Aye]

His moments with Mes (Old identity)

[Mes: Just believe in Suppalo's Rules]

He straightens his back in this scene, standing tall and proud at Mes' endorsement

His certainty that he’s bad under it all (new identity)

[Ayan: You know all the bad thing's I've done]

(compared to the perfect image the imperfect wanter must be bad)

His “idol” moment with Namo and the stuff in episode 9 too (old identity and new)

[Namo: Do you realise you've changed]

His teachers (ALL OF IT but here's some examples) (Old identity)

[Teacher Chadok: Then we will finally have peace] [Teacher Waree: This years prefects have performed the poorest of all in terms of controlling the school situations] [Ayan: I'll try harder] [Teacher Waree: Don't let down the one who chose you for the president title]

These moments were a sucker punch, especially in episode 10.

There's also all of Ayan gentle pushing, pulling, prodding and poking and he challenges Akk again and again, while also becoming his pillar of support. (New/changing identity)

There were way more but that's enough

Not with bang but with a whisper

With all this in mind I was fully expecting Akks complete breakdown to be a primary motivator for the curse of episode 11 to strike, I thought he’d be torn in two and lash out at Ayan who started it all.

But the show didn’t do this, and it wouldn’t retrospectively have been right to do so, because Ayan wasn’t passive, Ayan was something Akk already had and so his new identity was grounded and true.

Ayan successfully breaks Akk’s attachment to his perfect self by ripping the wool off Akk’s eyes about Chadok (he thinks it’s the truth anyway, kudos to Thua) and allowing Akk to fully chose Ayan, to choose his own real wants, to choose his own REAL SELF, even as he broke down over and over at this change because his self was still shattered even as Ayan helped make him whole again (not immediately, or perfectly but truly).

Even as it still took time after this to be able to say these things out loud. He could do it, and he could show his true self to the people who mattered.

[Akk's Mum: Whatever is repressed inside, say it.]

And that

It healed something in me.

[mc395686]

To celebrate the end of an era, here are my 5 favorite paper arts (in no particular order) and why I like them!

Kara’s was the third one I ever made and I’m still shocked that it turned out this good. I wanted to match the gradient design of her hair from the pfp referenced and I think giving each layer its own piece really added to it. Cause I could’ve just drawn the cheeks or the hair strands but I cut them out and let the paper edges be the lines. And my color matching with the hair gradient is ON POINT.

Michael’s was really fun because I got to do drawing alongside the paper. I’ve done the neon design for banners before so translating it to physical was cool. I also did the 3D polio for this one which is a style I love.

Gold’s was a freaking blast to make just because the design referenced is top tier. Ssvwi can draw like no other. Picking out the colors was the hardest I’ve ever had because dark yellow is not common at all, but I did it somehow. I love the layers and the complexity.

This was the first big project I ever did paper art wise, and it really showed me that I can do stuff like this if I work at it. Also really struggle doing irl people so I still can’t believe this turned out good

The collage design will always be my favorite thing to do. Picking out colors and just flying them is so satisfying. Doing the gradient for this was a blast also. But my favorite part has to be how unlike most of these look like a 1 to 1 recreation of the pfp, this one is more transformed and unique and looks like my own design.

That’s it :)

[oubliette-odette]

A Short Little Horror Drabble

I've been doing small little stories from prompts each day to help me to warm up before I work on any of my big writing projects, and somehow a prompt about heartbreak turned into this little terror and I'm proud enough of it to share. I'd love to know more about this character and who they are if I ever get the chance to explore it more...

Enjoy! And perhaps I'll share more of these short little drabbles I do while I keep working on my other project.

-|- -|- -|- -|- -|- -|-

I knew I had broken her heart. I saw the way her eyes stuttered and blinked furiously, wet and glistening. Her hands were clasped around the ends of her hair, like a lifeline, and her lips parted. I could hear her quick, short breaths. She looked down at her feet, whatever words she spoke were breathless and indecipherable as an ugly choking sob overwhelmed whatever she had started to say.

I pretended that I cared.

“You knew who I was.” I said, “You knew what I was.” 

She shook her head, her hair fell into her face and concealed her expression from me. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. The whole thing was honestly rather pitiful, but no different from how everyone before her reacted. I knew almost immediately that she was not the one. I had tried to keep my distance, to ease the hurt during our year together, but she still fell for me. The young, naïve ones always do. 

I’ve seen it many times over. They arrive, frightened and cautious like a rabbit. They shrink to the walls and the shadows where they hope they will not be seen. But I see them, and I pull them from the shadows and they see my tender offering. And I know fairly quickly if they are who I need. And they are never what I need.

This one had believed she was different. That she could love me into redemption, change my heart and save us both from the hellish damnation we both found ourselves sinking towards.

But I am not one to be redeemed. I am the monster. I am the beast. I am Hell. There is no heart left for these feckless mortals who want to save me, change me. I need them here to sate me. To satisfy me.

The mortal woman - a mere girl, really - sniffed and looked up at me. “But I love you.”

Ah, the final effort to prevent the inevitable.

I tilted my head and my lips parted into a red-devil smile. “I know, dear.”

“What will you do to me?” She asked.

“You will feed me.” I corrected her. This was the way of life. The arrangement that exists between mortals and immortals. If she could not get me what I wanted, then her role changed to sustain me instead. It was the deal that was agreed upon before she came to me. Her family was paid either way, I see no loss when the deal is honoured. 

She paled and backed away from me, “No…no no. Please.”

“I’m sorry, love.” I said, my voice soft and soothing. “Believe me when I say I wish things were different.”

It was true. It was exhausting year after year to be sent such useless sacrifices. 

I no longer listened to the girl’s pleas or tears. I leaned down and waited for silence to fall as I sunk my teeth into her sweet, tender flesh.

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

Self-Rec Tag Game

@heliopauseentertainments tagged me, so here we go

Rules: Share five of your works (art, writing, etc.). Then tag five people to share the things they made.

1. Something you absolutely adore.

2. Something that was challenging to create.

3. Something that makes you laugh (or smile).

4. Something that suprised you (in how it turned, in how much people liked it, etc.)

5. Something you want other people to see.

1. This is one of my lesser read fics since it’s written for Robots in Disguise 2001, but I love how I set up Railspike in “Team Gossip Train”. His friendship with an elderly lady is precious, and I never actually intended for this to go anywhere. It was supposed to be some heartwarming fluff. But I’ve been getting motivation to write a fic that shows their friendship off a little more and I fully intend to follow up on that. I think it’ll be two chapters, and I’ve written a good chunk of chapter one. No idea when that’ll come out. But now you can look forward to it!

2. The most challenging series I’ve ever written has to be “Megatron’s Elite Trine”. I make no secret of the fact that I have not read IDW as a whole. I’ve seen whatever snippets and info dumps that cross my dash. I know about whatever “The Basics” talks about on Youtube. I’ve had lengthy discussions with my husband, who has read it extensively. But I myself am not completely and totally familiar with it like I am with other continuities. That and I had never written for a polyamorous relationship before. So this was new territory.

But seeing people are enjoying these fics provides me with a good amount of confidence. The characters and their interactions are becoming easier to figure out and write with each passing fic and I am enjoying myself. So overall, I’m satisfied with the results.

3. “Come Fishing” never fails to make me grin. I love Roddy and Ultra Magnus so much, and I really wanted to convey just how much fun their friendship is. It’s easy to write a stoic character who doesn’t laugh or smile, but that’s not who G1 Magnus is. He smiles and he enjoys a bit of fun, but his sense of responsibility usually has him by the reins. Roddy is that friend that makes it his mission to make sure Magnus gets a break now and again so he doesn’t work himself to death. His energy and enthusiasm is infectious and Magnus cherishes it, despite the fact that Roddy can be a bit overzealous at times. 

4. Honestly, I am very surprised by how much traction “Decepticon Snippets” has gotten. It started out as fun little things to make the Decepticons seem less black and white, because as much as I adore G1, I like to venture away from the simple “they’re the bad guys and we’re the good guys” attitude. They’re all cybertronian. I wanted to have an excuse to dive into the Decepticons and flesh out their characters. And I’ve got a handful of rarepairs in there for my own pleasure. And then it developed a bit of a plot. And apparently a lot of people like it??

I planned on adding some OCs in there, but then decided it would make for better writing if I just made that story its own thing. I plan on making Astrotrain and Dead End an item once I get the motivation to continue it. But yeah, I’m always shocked whenever I get a notification showing that another person has added a Kudos to it. Because I’m still getting them, despite having not updated that one in ages.

5. I would absolutely love for “The Rise of Rodimus Prime” series to get more traction. It’s a passion project that my husband and I are both super excited to finish. This series is set in G1 and follows Rodimus and a trine of seekers around the galaxy, the initial trine being Redwing, Hotlink, and the conehead Sandstorm. As they go, Rodimus is trying to keep the seekers safe from the bounty that Galvatron put on their heads, while also uncovering a big mastermind plot with each encounter his group has against various antagonists.

The group gains more members over time and develops familial bonds with each other. The multiverse is also torn in some places, so there are more than a handful of bots that come from other continuities, such like: Robots in Disguise 2001, Shattered Glass, and IDW. This series will also be tied in to the third installment of “Maximo’s Legacy” when I eventually finish the second installment.

We also have a fic dedicated to showing how Hotlink’s character started out to show why we went the direction we did with him and provide some more insight on the mystery that Redwing is.

This is a very ambitious project and I cannot gush about this story or the characters enough. I know that I hardly ever post about them, but boy do I want to hold entire conversations with people about this!

Anyone I tag, feel free to ignore if you don’t want to participate: @rubski02, @tanglecolors, @tsubasa10126-unwinds, anyone else interested can tag themselves

[transgenderfivepebbles]

i think i have fully blorbofied five pebbles to me. he lives in my brain rent free. he is the poor little meow meow. anyways share me ur unparalled innocence hcs

congrats on the blorbo anon!

oh man.. innocence my beloved lil bastard my silly menace to society my personal projection board.. where do i even start

LONG answer below. probably average Me RWposting Length but still Long

(just for clarity: i will be using he/she/they pronouns for innocence here btw!)

i think she was the youngest! not just of the local group either. the last of them all. i know most people hc pebs as the youngest but ui’s name seems to imply that they were meant to be the last one ever built, innocence being associated with youth and childhood and all.

also shaded pearl calls them “the local iterator project” in 1514.something, which probably means their construction was underway, and by 1592 the ancients are already gone. so yeah there probably wasn’t much time between their completion and global ascension.

which is especially sad!! he was so young!! barely even got a chance to exist and was abandoned!! imagine how that must have felt for them. being made for a purpose, to solve your creators’ puzzle for them, and before you know it they’re all gone. you didn’t even get to try

and i think his ancients weren’t as oppressive as, say, grey wind’s (but that’s a matter for another post) but they weren’t particularly caring either. they were already thinking of leaving anyway so they didn’t pay much attention to their iterator.

as for their personality… i think they were quiet. conflicted. undoubtedly carried a lot of anger but not quite like pebbles. he made his anger known, he could show his frustration, he wasn’t afraid to stray from his purpose and work on something else. innocence, though… she just couldn’t. whether it was engraved into her very code, or just the conditioning of what little contact with the ancients they had, something kept them from rebelling the way pebbles could.

and that made them envious. why could he do that? why could everyone just do whatever they wanted, or be satisfied with what they had? why couldn’t she be like them?

and that envy turned to resentment, to everyone, but mostly pebbles, who with his inability to read between the lines, was oblivious to it. one of the few innocence trusted was moon, who had been patient with him all this time, who really tried to be a good big sister in spite of the treatment they got.

and then. well. she was gone. and pebbles took her.

at that moment innocence was very very pissed. i mean you would be too if your stepbrother who was better at everything than you killed your sister, the only person you’ve ever trusted, and stopped talking to anyone after the fact.

and so they went all I’m Going To Ruin This Guy’s Life. and they did.