#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.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @yoontaedotin

[lilylushes]

Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands

Luigi was finishing up a big project for work in your office room down the hall. You were unbearably horny. You both usually satisfy one another unless someone is away, and even then you typically resort to FaceTime. You're open about your needs. But right now, he's busy, and you don’t want to rip him from his important work. You know he’ll be happy to rail you all night tonight, but your inner thighs are soaking wet and you've been squirming for ten minutes. You can’t wait until then. You figure one time won't hurt, that he'll understand.

You lean over to your nightstand and grab your vibrator. Shoving your pyjama shorts and panties to the side, you pressed it hard on your clit. You stay alert on keeping your whines to a minimum so as not to disturb your boyfriend. Still, you’re distracted in your own bliss, closing your eyes.

“Hey baby, have you seen my -” he pauses at the doorway, “what are you doing?” He's confused, shocked, and incredibly turned on at the sight before him.

“Sorry, I knew you were working,” you say, turning off the vibrator and putting it in your drawer. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’ll do it whenever I want, I just know you have to make sure you finish thi-” 

“The only thing I need to make sure to finish is you,” he says with a grin on his face, closing the door and coming over to the bed.

“I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d always rather be eating your pussy, okay? You’re mine, and I take care of what belongs to me.” he says in a deep voice, hovering over you.

You grab the back of his neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss.

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now let me take care of you and eat this pretty pink pussy so you can cum, hm?”

He spreads your legs and shifts to lower himself in between them.

"You're so wet, baby, you really need me, don't you?" He takes one big lick of your folds, making you moan. He sticks his tongue in your hole, looking you right in the eyes as you dig at his curls.

He moves his right thumb to work your clit, keeping his left arm around your leg to hold you still.

You’re moaning and writhing underneath him.

“Mmm my baby tastes so good. I love making you feel good.”

“Mmmyeah, feels so good” is the only reply you can muster. He switches his fingers to pay attention to your core while he moves his mouth up to your clit, sending you closer to heaven.

You move one hand from his curls to your breast, pinching your nipple. Your moans and whines grow louder and more frequent. Luigi can tell you’re nearing your high.

“Let go for me, give it to me, baby. Wanna taste you, sweetheart.”

And with that you come undone around his fingers and mouth, spilling your juices onto them. 

As you catch your breath, you watch Luigi lap up your juices and sit up, licking his fingers clean.

“Now, just give me an hour, okay? Then I can fuck you all night.” he says, climbing up to give you a kiss.

[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.

[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:

[aquinnix]

Here is my and the wonderful @activate-shadow-of-the-window's piece for the Solstice Social Collaborative Fanwork Event!

My chapters "Thermodynamics and Combustion" and "Soundwaves and Frequency" are also written below the cut!

Thermodynamics and Combustion:

“I was definitely paying attention before, but why did you drag me all the way up here?” Scar was out of breath, each word broken up by a heave. 

Zed did not share his exhaustion. “Cooking lessons!” He didn’t look back as he spoke, focusing on the climb. 

Scar took another step. “On the top of a mountain?” 

Zed paused, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t keep the charade up any longer. He turned to look Scar in the eyes. “So… I’m not exactly allowed in the kitchen after the… incident. But! I found a loophole! A kitchen is a room, right?” He looked to Scar for confirmation who nodded slowly. “And the top of a mountain is not a room, correct?” Scar once again nodded. Zed smiled excitedly, as if the previous two sentences had explained this entire thing. 

And it did, by Zed’s standards at least. 

Scar stared at him blankly. Zed tried again. “You can’t get in trouble for cooking if it’s not in a kitchen!” 

Scar blinked, Zed’s plan finally dawning on him. “How are we going to cook without a kitchen?” He stuttered slightly as he spoke. 

“We’re gonna make one silly!” Zed started back up the mountain, nearly jumping with each step. They were almost at the top now, the air starting to get thinner. He looked back, noticing that Scar had yet to resume the climb. Zed walked back down to where Scar was, grabbed his hand, and took off, dragging Scar behind him. 

No matter how much Scar struggled, he couldn’t release himself from Zed’s death grip. 

By the time they made it to the top, Zed was a little out of breath himself. He threw himself into a pile of snow, staring to make a snow angel, shivering, but not caring about the cold. Scar fell over beside him, making a far more half hearted angel. 

Satisfied, Zed stood. “Alright, first things first, we need something to cook the food in.” He surveyed the landscape, grabbing a stick and beginning to draw the rough outline of a floor plan in the snow. By now Scar had gotten up and was examining the plan. 

“That’s the table, and there’s where the mixing bowl will go, and that’s where we’ll put the fire…” Zed muttered to himself as he drew. 

Scar’s eyes widened. “Do you mean the furnace?” 

Zed stabbed the stick into the ground. “You really think I would lug a whole oven up here?” He emptied out his bag, the contents of which were all wooden, and decidedly minimal. “Fire.” Zed gestured at the small pile of sticks. 

“Fire.” Scar’s voice was an echo, processing the idea that he would not only be trying to teach Zed how to cook, but doing so over an open flame. He chose not to acknowledge the decently sized forest around them. 

Zed either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. 

“How big of a table do we need?” Zed’s question jostled Scar out of his thoughts. 

Scar grabbed the stick, marking out two lines on the ground. “That should be enough space.” He stabbed the stick back into the snow, taking a few steps back. 

Zed looked at the outline, then at the small pile of supplies he brought, and back again. “Are you sure it has to be that big?” He spoke slowly. 

“Optimally? Yes.” Scar followed Zed’s gaze to the pile that was most definitely not enough to make the table, let alone a whole kitchen. 

“Suboptimally?” Zed turned to Scar. 

Scar sighed. 

Scar took a step back, halfheartedly admiring the little kitchen set up they had constructed. In the center, was a table about as long as Scar’s arm. Off to the side of that was a campfire, and on the otherside was a box containing a bowl, some basic ingredients, and a few utensils. 

If Zed didn’t want this to count as a kitchen, they had certainly done their job well. 

Taking it all in for the first time, Scar winced. 

Zed had the exact opposite reaction. “Alright!” He smiled brightly as he spoke. “What should we make first?” 

Scar though for a moment. Something simple that could be made in such a janky set up…

“Cookies. Let’s start with cookies.” 

Scar had never messed up cookies before. 

What could go wrong? 

The pair walked up to the table, one leg of which was shorter than the others by just enough to make it wobble. Scar kicked some snow under the leg in an attempt to even things out, and in the best teacher voice he could muster…

“First things first, we need a bowl.” Eagerly, Zed jumped into action, rummaging through the box and presenting the bowl to Scar as one would a  valuable piece of jewelry. 

Scar took the bowl, trying to get it to balance on the table. “Okay, we need flour, eggs, sugar…” Scar began to recite the list of ingredients by heart. Zed moved to grab each item as Scar listed them off, though Scar couldn’t help but notice how he only grabbed around half of them. 

How was he supposed to make cookies without butter? Or eggs? Or chocolate?

Zed seemed to finally notice Scar’s less than ecstatic demeanour. “Well I didn’t have a recipe beforehand…” He stared at the ingredients on the table. “We can still make something with this can’t we?” The words were hopeful, but half winced. 

Well, Zed just said he wanted cooking lessons. He never specified that they had to be good cooking lessons. Scar decided to think of it as a challenge. 

He forced a smile. “We can give it a shot!” Scar turned his attention to the box, scouring over the rest of what Zed had brought. There were a few berries, maybe they could juice them to use as a liquid? His thoughts were halted as his eyes fell on a bottle of greenish… something. 

Scar pointed to the bottle. “What’s that?” 

Zed shrugged. “Not sure, just found it laying around while I was packing.” He picked it up, flicking the glass, watching as a couple of bubbles formed. “Maybe it’s magic cookie juice!” 

For some strange reason, Scar doubted that idea. 

But seeing as he had very few options… 

Hopefully it wasn’t poisonous. 

Attempting to hopefully get something edible out of this, Scar told Zed to start juicing the berries as he tried whipping the ‘magic cookie juice.’ It did not whip. Scar’s arm was beginning to tire, he looked over to Zed, who was crushing the berries between his fingers, a childlike smile stretching his cheeks. Scar cued Zed to dump the puree into the green liquid, and mix the two together. The liquid fizzed slightly. Scar swallowed the lump in his throat. 

By the time they had added the rest of the ingredients, Scar was pleasantly surprised to find they were left with something fairly dough-like. If dough was supposed to glow ever so slightly and smell like birchwood that is. 

Scar instructed Zed to separate the dough into several smaller, cookie-sized balls. It was then that the pair realized they did not have a pan to bake them on. It was immediately decided that just throwing them into the fire was not an option. 

As the minutes stretched on, and no other ideas were brought forth, that decision became less and less set in stone. 

It was a crime against baking. Scar said a silent prayer as the first dough ball was tossed into the flames. A burst of green smoke shot up from the fire, caused both Scar and Zed to double over in coughing fits. By the time Scar was able to refocus his blurry vision, he couldn’t help but notice how much warmer this frozen mountain top seemed. 

Oh, that’s why. 

Not even an arms length away, was a raging fire far larger than the little campside flame there had been previously. Scar jumped back, only remembering a few moments later that Zed was there… somewhere. Where had he gone? 

A tap on his shoulder, followed by a sharp bleat. “Scar… are cookies supposed to do that?” 

Scar spun around, and in a moment of adrenaline fueled casualness, “no. No they are not.” 

The pair ran at full speed down the mountainside, their footsteps not quite as loud as the crackling fire behind them. Scar risked a glance over his shoulder to see that the green flames had engulfed nearly all of the nearby forest. 

An explosion. A shattering boom that shook the ground and knocked them both off their feet. The fire must have reached the rest of the dough. Was dough even an accurate word anymore? Sparks and cinders flew through the air, sharp spots of pain tapping at skin. 

Out of breath and heaving, the duo made it to the base of the mountain. And Scar laughed. 

It turns out it was possible to mess up cookies. 

Soundwaves and Frequency:

Zed knocked a fist against the wall of stone in front of the pair, tapping it a few times and pressing his ear against the rock. Scar scooched in closer, trying to do the same but not getting very far before Zed pushed him away. “Oh come on! I want to hear the shrackers t–!” 

He was cut off by Zed pressing his hand quite forcefully over Scar’s mouth. “The whole point of this is to not hear the shriekers!” The words were no more than a whisper, but his tone was enough to get Scar’s shoulders to slump ever so slightly. Zed removed his hand, turning to continue down the darkened path. He could feel Scar’s breath behind him, the only clue that the other was following. 

Well, the only clue aside from the sound of Scar crying out as he stubbed his toe, which caused Zed to trip over his feet and fall face first into the cold hard floor. The pair were completely silent for a moment, a far too quickly passing moment. Zed opened his mouth, a good half dozen reprimands sitting on his tongue. None of them found air, instead, it was Scar who uttered the tease. 

“And you called me clumsy.” He chuckled softly, offering a hand to help Zed up. 

Zed swatted it away in a motion that could only be described as concerningly elaborate. “You fell into a ravine!” He stood, brushing the dust off his pants. 

Scar tucked his hand against his chest, pretending to be hurt by Zed’s refusal of help. “It was pitch black! How many times do I have to say it?” 

The pair stared at each other for a heartbeat, two, three, before Zed puffed up his chest slightly and continued to lead the way. After some distance that Zed swore he was counting out though the intervals were not even close to even, Zed knocked on the wall again. 

An unearthly scream echoed through the stone. Scar’s body went rigid. Zed rolled his eyes, unfazed by the sound. “You’re the one who wanted to hear the shrieker." 

Scar, for once, did not respond. 

Zed whipped out his pickaxe and began carving away at the rock, Scar quickly got a hold of himself and joined in. It was hard to tell whether slowly scraping the tool along was producing any less noise than just using it normally would have, but both agreed that this felt like it should be quieter. 

The second screech was a good indicator to the contrary. 

This time however, it was Zed who seemed more frightened by the cry. He paused, and looked Scar in the eyes before holding up three fingers. He slowly curled one finger down, then a second, leaving one standing up. Scar nodded solemnly, or as solemnly as Scar could given the half smirk that was still plastered on his face. Zed used his fingers to pry out a stone, revealing an empty space behind it, air that was somehow more stale than what they were already breathing seeped in through the little hole. 

Scar’s chest spasmed slightly, and he let out a quick half breath. Zed glared at him, causing Scar to motion vaguely to his throat and spasm again. 

Oh Void below Scar was trying to hold in a cough. 

Having no other ideas, Zed wrapped his arms around Scar and attempted a heimlich. 

It did not help. 

In fact, in very scientific terms…

It doomed them to Hels and back. 

Scar couldn’t hold it in any longer, doubling over into a coughing fit loud enough to wake Bdubs. And, apparently, loud enough to wake the shrieker. They hadn’t even made it into the city yet! Zed let out a deep sigh, patting Scar on the back in hopes that would improve the situation. 

The earth began to shake, a loud, rumbling, alien sound reverberating through the space, followed by a groaning roar. Zed, in his infinite genius, took his pick, smashing through the last of the wall in one swift motion, and charged forwards. 

“For science!” He ran blindly into the dark, hearing Scar half wheeze half repeat the cry behind him. Zed beat his fist in the air, imagining how cool this must look from the outside, how confident and heroic he must seem. 

Then, in the spur of his perfect movie moment, Zed ran straight into a wall. He rubbed his head, turning to see a teal glow far too close for comfort. Said teal glow got brighter for a moment before moving further away. 

Oh Scar. 

Zed fumbled blindly until his hands met something that he could lift off the ground. It was round, about the size of his head, but thankfully not too heavy. He chucked it as hard as he could off to the side, getting another glow and a wet sproingy knocking sound. Heavy footsteps shuffled after the… whatever it had been. Zed tiptoed in the direction the warden had come from, hoping that would also be the direction in which he would find Scar.

Thankfully, his hypothesis was correct. He found Scar trying to calm himself down in a corner. “Well, this wasn’t the best order to do things in, but you can’t bake a cake without playing around with the recipe a bit.”

“Remind me to never eat anything you cook.” Zed ignored Scar’s words, instead lighting a torch and looking for a decently open space to set up shop, preferably one on the opposite side of the city from where the warden was currently sniffing at the air. He gestured for Scar to follow, the torchlight only giving the pair a couple feet of vision.  

Eventually, they found a spot Zed deemed worthy of science. “Alright, now we just have to set up the machine and hope that it works!” He didn’t risk raising his voice above a whisper.

Scar did a double take. “Hope? You didn’t test it before dragging me down here?” Thankfully, Scar matched his volume. 

“This is the test silly!” Zed gave him a knowing smile, beginning to brush away some of the skulk coating the floor. The pair got to work constructing what Zed only referred to as ‘the machine’ with absolutely zero description as to what it would do once built. 

After the fifth time Zed told Scar that he needed to move the piston over to the left, no his left, no the other left, stage left, “why didn’t you bring Impulse down instead? Or Tango? Or anyone who knows how this stuff works?” A hint of frustration leaked into his voice. 

Zed wiped the redstone dust off on his pants. “You really think I could convince either of them to come? The last time I came here with Impy he put me on a leash!” 

Scar snorted, slotting the piston into place for what he hoped was the last time. Zed didn’t correct him, which was a good sign. Instead, Zed stood back, surveying the contraption proudly. “Now, for the real reason I brought you along.” A slightly concerning laugh followed the already concerning statement. 

“Which is?” Scar’s tone gave away that childlike obliviousness Zed was counting on. 

“Bait” 

“Pull the lever! Pull the lever!” Scar’s feet pounded heavily against the stone as he ran, his footfalls in time with his heartbeat. Much, much heavier footsteps followed behind him, accompanied by an angry groaning. 

Zed yanked the lever, the harsh click quickly getting drowned out by a cacophony of banging and drumming. He stood back, worried, for a moment, that something might explode. Scar whizzed by him before he had the chance to think about it too much. 

So far so good in terms of spontaneous combustion. Scar took a second to catch his breath before following Zed’s gaze to the warden that was standing right in front of them. But, against all odds, its attention seemed entirely fixed on the headache inducing machine.  

“See! You had nothing to worry about.” Zed reached out a tentative hand, poking the creature in the side before quickly drawing his arm back. “Perfectly safe!” 

As if the universe had heard those words and wanted to knock Zed down a peg, the machine came to a screeching halt. The screeching part? Fine, practically intentional. The halt? Not so much. 

In one sudden movement, the warden looked at the pair with its eyeless face. 

Zed and Scar took off running.  

Suddenly, Zed’s footsteps became the only one’s aside from the horrid creature’s. “Scar!” Zed was far too preoccupied to give a more eloquent expression of his jealousy. A layered, otherworldly cackle was his only response. 

Zed stuck his hands into his pockets, he had to have something that would be useful. Bingo. Literally. He grabbed the bingo card he had made at the start of the season, with spaces such as “Tango lives in a hole for over a month,” “Doc breaks the laws of physics,” and “sheep.” 

And Impulse said laminating it had been going overboard.

He threw it to his left, twisting his whole body into the motion, and, putting all his faith in a piece of paper that by no means deserved it, Zed stopped running and went completely still. 

A soft tick echoed as the page landed. The sound of the Warden’s footsteps continued. Zed did not get squished to bits. Scar landed next to him a few moments later. Zed composed himself. “Let’s wait somewhere safe and let things die down before we try again shall we?” 

They did not, in fact, wait somewhere safe for the duration of time required to let things die down. 

That is not to say that they did not wait somewhere safe at all. The pair had found a nice little carpeted spot that they had settled in for a while. Zed had even had the time to figure out what had gone wrong with the machine. But…Well…

“Scar! Fly higher!” Zed adjusted his grip on Scar’s leg, hoping to make his weight more manageable. Failing that, he jumped, getting his feet off the ground for around a second longer than he would have with a normal jump. 

Scar groaned. “I can barely get myself up with these things! You try!” Zed let go, moving to let Scar take a hold of his leg before realizing that not only did he lack the required appendages, but he had left his elytra at home because why would he ever need to fly underground? 

It turns out, there was a very good reason headed towards them far quicker than a creature of that size should be allowed. 

“Go! He’s getting closer!” Zed’s feet left the ground. 

Then he heard a booming shriek. 

Scar let out a piercing scream that was cut off as Zed was dropped back to the ground, a distance of a centimetre or two and most. “Scar?” 

There was no response, just a small splatter of blood in the darkness. Great, now he had to do this himself. Zed took off, he just needed to get back to the machine and increase the delay. 

Simple. 

Like shearing a sheep. 

Or running blind from a giant fungus monster. 

Same difference. 

Distantly, he could see a dim red glow. Just a little further. Just a couple more breaths. Just a couple more steps. 

Another boom echoed through the cavern. Zed’s body collapsed out from under him, his hands flying to protect his ears a moment too late. A searing headache pounded against his skull. 

Thankfully, the pain didn’t last for too long. 

Zed awoke in his bed, out of breath, phantom sting still running through his head and aching in his legs. The moment he got his bearings, he reached for his comm. 

<You have opened a private chat with goodtimewithscar> 

<Zedaph> let’s not tell X about this one shall we? 

<goodtimewithscar> agreed

[ironwoman18]

Love Again

Disclaimer: I don't own the song Love Again or the characters of Blue Lock.

Yoichi never expected Kaiser would accept this crazy idea. He had it last night talking to Bachira before he returned to Barcelona with his team.

“Buddy, you need to make Rin pay for hurting you, he doesn’t deserve you”

“I’m the one to blame, I accepted that contract extension in Madrid instead of picking that multi million contract with PXG. I love Rin and we have a great connection on the field but the moment I start to stand up on the team he will start getting jealous and turn it into a competition, with Kaiser I feel more comfortable because we have a competition but if I’m the most logical pass to score, he won’t get upset. He might just make on of his stupid comments but high-five with me and get over it” 

“Then don’t say it’s your fault, you had valid reasons to do what you did and if he can’t understand them… then screw him!” Said Bachira looking at his best friend “now if you want him back… make him jealous with someone he will hate to see you with”

Kaiser and Shidou popped to his mind, however, Kaiser was the best option for this. He is attractive, he surely will be willing to annoy Rin and most importantly, he’s single.

Next day he was still shaken by the break up, the memories of Rin’s cold eyes looking at him angry saying “we should break up if you aren’t willing to come with me to Paris then forget about me” and watching Sae’s same eyes every time he send a pass to him, made it even harder.

Kaiser the second captain came at him and called him out. This was the moment he asked him to meet him after practice, he accepted.

After their conversation, they waited a couple of days to show some public affection to each other, like holding hands or a kiss here and there. 

Then a month later they moved together. His family was happy to see he moved on, Isagi just thought “if they now this was part of a big problem to get back with Rin”

The Ballon D’or ceremony arrived and there was Rin with… Nanase?! What the fuck?!

Kaiser could feel Isagi’s holding tightly his hand and he looked around knowing exactly something was off, his weird mental connection with him worked even off the field, and spotted Rin with his dog, Nanase.

“That fucker…” Kaiser was about to punch him in the face but Isagi held him back “no, it’s ok… I should have expected this… our relationship was on the newspapers and he is doing the same” even with that cold analysis from him Kaiser knows him too well but decided to do as he told him “ok…” he kissed his head and Isagi just smiled.

They walked in avoiding the journalists, Rin and Nanase. Inside they looked for their seat and once there Isagi collapsed in tears “I was an idiot to believe he wouldn’t do something like this… my eyes are only good on the field but not out of it”

I never thought that I would find a way out

I never thought I'd hear my heartbeat so loud

I can't believe there's something left in my chest anymore

But God damn, you got me in love again

“Hey, hey… Yoichi, don’t say that, I know it’s frustrating but this is a long road, I’m sure this won’t last long, Nanase is Rin’s dog, the moment he stops being useful, he will drop him” Kaiser looked at him and did something really sweet, in Isagi’s books, he cleaned his tears and kissed him softly. He knows people were around them so he knows this was just the Blue Rose being a great actor… however… he can’t stop his heart from skipping a beat and kissing him back.

Kaiser became a huge support for Isagi, he helped keep him motivated after that incident and they noticed Rin was a little annoyed at the after party as Isagi and Kaiser were chatting with other former members of the Blue Lock project and some of their teammates and they seemed relaxed.

Kaiser, now and then, looked at Rin and smirked, satisfied without Isagi noticing. They made the promise that Isagi won’t look at Rin all night. Even when they got the award for the best Eleven of the 2023-2024 and even considering that three of them were top 1, 2 and 3, only by a couple votes away from the other. Kaiser was top 1, Isagi was top 2 and Rin top 3, because the first two players were key in the Real Madrid championship.

I used to think that I was made out of stone

I used to spend so many nights on my own

I never knew I had it in me to dance anymore

Since Rin was in Paris and he was in Madrid, they barely seemed each other and Isagi spent his nights alone, his heart was turning into a stone because it felt like being single but without the right to see others because, of course, he wasn’t in fact single.

Now he spends his nights with Kaiser, watching movies, playing video games, cooking and speaking about that day’s match or just having sex and ordering takeouts, because even though they were acting as a couple, they allowed sex in their deal.

But God damn, you got me in love again

Show me, your heaven's right here baby

Touch me, so I know I'm not crazy

Never have I ever met somebody like you

Used to be afraid of love, what am I to do

But God damn, you got me in love again

You got me in love again

You got me in love again

You got me in love again, again

And, even though he keeps denying it to Bachira after a Clásico or if their next match is close to their current cities, he can’t help but keeps falling in love with Kaiser, Rin’s memory keeps getting blurred in his mind and he keeps realizing that he was missing a lot with the long distance relationship, like cuddles or just waking up next to someone.

Meanwhile Kaiser was dealing with his own doubts, he noticed Isagi was less concerned about Rin and was looking for his touches but maybe it was just to keep him satisfied because he was a whore for him, he wasn’t a real boyfriend but a tool for his ultimate goal, he was okay with it but he wasn’t ready for the day Isagi will kick him away. 

He never believed in true love, he had a terrible experience as a child so now that he has someone he really loves, he wants to keep him by his side and love him.

So many nights my tears fell harder than rain

Scared I would take my broken heart to the grave

I'd rather die than have to live in a storm like before

One night Isagi decided to open up with Kaiser “Michael…” he said as they were on the balcony looking at the night skyline of Madrid, both cuddling under a light blanket, it was almost winter so the weather was getting colder.

“Huh?” Said the man looking at him.

“Thank you” Kaiser looked stunned at him “thank you for accepting this… I didn’t realized how lonely I was until we got together” Kaiser knows he hasn’t finished yet “some nights I felt so lonely that I had cry my eyes out to sleep” he felt Kaiser holding him tighter “and I thought this would last forever and that I would always be living in this storm”

“Yoichi...”

“So right now I'm happy to have you by my side, Michael” he smiled and, for the first time since this deal began, Yoichi kissed Kaiser and he could feel something different... Feelings in that kiss.

Their first kiss with true feelings ever since this started. And for the first time they didn't have sex, they made love.

I can't believe, I can't believe

I finally found someone

I'll sink my teeth in disbelief

'Cause you're the one that I want

I can't believe, I can't believe

I'm not afraid anymore

But God damn, you got me in love again

They reached Christmas, Kaiser still couldn't believe Isagi was actually happy to date him and thankful for him. Now he can't lose him, if Rin ever want him back, he definitely will fight back to keep him.

His birthday arrived and Isagi invited him to go to his favorite restaurant and gave him a present.

“Michael... I know you aren't a fan of this time of the year but...”

“Yoichi, I made peace with my past a long time ago, maybe this particular day is a tough one but now I have you with me”

Isagi smiled and blushed a little “good then, I have two presents, one for Christmas and one for your birthday” he handed a little box and a big box.

Kaiser opened the small first and there was a ring with blue roses around it and inside was written his full name and his date of birth.

“Yoichi...” He was amazed by it's beauty.

“I ordered one for me too” he said showing him his own ring. His ring had blue footballs entangled with black chains “and mine has my full name too and my birthday date”

Kaiser smiled and put on his ring “it's beautiful, thank you” then he opened the big box, it was a football signed with their former teammates at the Bastard München and it looked like the ball he bought when he was a kid, he had some tears in the corner of his blue eyes.

“There's a letter inside” Kaiser nodded, knowing if he try to speak his voice might fail him.

He got out the letter, the cover was a picture of them after their first league together as a team. Behind the picture there were a few words.

Danke, Kaiser.

Du hast mich aus einer toxischen Beziehung gerettet. Ich hätte nie gedacht, dass ich mich in dich verlieben würde, aber ... ich muss es sagen.

Ich liebe dich, verdammter Clown.

(Thank you, Kaiser.

You saved me from a toxic relationship, I never thought I would end up falling in love with you but... I have to say it.

I love you, fucking clown)

He read it over and over still not believing his eyes, did Yoichi really said he loved him? Was he dreaming.

“I started a course a couple of months ago and I asked Ness to help me with the ball and the Bastard München players” said Yoichi waiting for him to say something “you don't have to say it back, I just wanted to say it so y...” He was talking non stop nervous until Kaiser shut him down with a kiss.

Isagi put a hand on his cheek as they kiss then he pulled back and whispers on his lips as he handed him a little box “here's my present, Yoichi”

He opened he little box and there was a chain with two little pendants, one was a blue rose and a blue lock.

“I wrote this to you” he handed him a letter with japanese letters “I know I suck at this but I asked Sae to help me” 

“Sae helped you?”

“Yeah he said his little brother was a shitty boyfriend and he wanted someone special for his favorite striker. And it wasn't about me because I would never date Rin Rin” he said his nickname with sarcasm.

“Good idea” Isagi turned to read the message and it said a simple “I love you, shitty boy” Isagi smirked and looked at him then kissed him again.

It was official. Michael Kaiser and Yoichi Isagi were in love and a real couple.

OOooOOooOO

I hope you enjoyed this one, it was mostly from Isagi's point of view with some parts from Kaiser's and this is a continuation of the Savage Love.

Let me know what are your thoughts on this one?

[septembersung]

I continue to justify my choices to myself and think out loud.

Today we are simultaneously very satisfied to have had a great school day yesterday, and panicking that now we’re down to three days to fix the house up. Maybe. They’re forecasting snow again. I want to get this visit over with but also I am praying for snow. If we could do a full academic week, and then I organize on Friday and clean on Saturday?? I’d be a new person. And so would my house.

If I start on time today, we can get a few things done during the school day. Maybe. But even if not, I am still choosing school, consequences be what they may. Dinner was late last night and that took out any potential after dinner project time; today could go differently.

If the last few months had been different, I could make different choices, but this is how the cookie crumbled and this is what’s first priority for our well-being.

Week 4 Day 16. Today we’re adding back in morning time and form 1 Latin, presuming we kick off on time. In my tweaked morning time (every year or semester I try new things with too much deliberately and it’s fluid and we settle into a core a couple weeks in as priorities solidify and we get a routine) we do Latin and Greek vocabulary memorizing as a family, now with a copy work element - literally a word or phrase per day, takes 5 minutes tops, and at the end of the week you’ve got a handful of new vocabulary. When you’re consistent. We’d be further if I was consistent more… consistently.

For Miss 4, who is very excited about school work but whose fine motor skills are still developing (I’m keeping a puzzled and cautious eye on her pencil grip) I’m just doing the alphabet. She’s developing a fantastic knack for memorizing, something even my oldest kids definitely could not do at that age (many children can! Those two could not) so she can repeat the words, it’s just the writing that’s beyond her. So she’s learning to sing our folk song at a rate comparable to big kids and can do the first few lines of many of our Shakespeare passages, etc. Anyway she’s still learning how to write the English print alphabet so I just decided to do the cursive and the Greek too, simultaneously. Because why not. All these these things are “a.” She’s responding well to it. And she’ll be able to identify all the forms of the letters for reading even if/though the writing is slower to master. If it works really well, when she’s solid on it, we’ll throw in the Hebrew. I can’t do any Hebrew beyond the alphabet (and I need a refresher) but my husband can (enough to use a book to teach and learn alongside at least.) Six months to a year depending on my consistency maybe? This is the sort of thing I meant to do with my oldest and then he had various troubles and difficulties and I had a lot of difficult pregnancies back to back on top of it so we dropped all the “extras.” But now it’s like, oh yes, this was the plan, we’re back on track. But aside from group work I don’t work with her in a consistent daily block like everyone else on bookwork because she is four and I learned my lesson about pushing too hard too early. She does what she likes and I do more on request or if it happens to work out, and she’s always included in all the group work. I need to get kids #3 and maybe 4 more independent before I have time to set aside for her during the school day. 1-3 years to build up to it as I do a short “prep level” daily(ish) lesson at age 5 and formal lessons begin at 6-7.

Trying to be realistic but optimistic, in a couple years I want my biggest two kids to be able to read actual Latin texts. Greek I’m more amorphous on but the text I’m drawing from is Athenaze so I guess we’ll work through that and it goes where it goes. I really enjoy Greek (the tiny bit I do) but I was always mostly intending to turn them over to their dad for real Greek reading. I know he wants to do the New Testament with them. Which will dovetail nicely with the religion plans in 2026 and beyond (we move from adaptations to direct real scripture study in 6th grade up. Which is not to say they read no actual scripture right now, I’m talking the independent study and curriculum.)

Miss 7 and Miss 6 will be on a different timeline maybe because of their unique positions on basic reading and writing English. 6 is resisting all formal work as a matter of principle, apparently, and 7 is having pretty intense anxiety and confidence issues. But after my oldest, I have a pretty good handle on the methodology needed to help them through this, so we simply persevere. With consistency and my various methods for addressing root issues (because this is not my first rodeo) I think 6’s attitude will grow to where to should be over the course of this calendar year, and ditto for 7’s performance and emotions. 6 needs some regulation things and time to mature, mostly. Baby steps. And it may be well into 2026 before we’re where I think we “ought” to be. We are having a baby this summer after all. I can guarantee nothing after May this year. But I have an idea for the summer and hold out great hope for this fall. Truly after the great vomit fest of fall 2024 all things seem possible.

The best thing about being next door to a veteran - no longer a beginner but have done multiple kids through the same stages but nobody graduated yet - is I can see the process in my mind and I’m not guessing anymore. I have many things to learn still but I can be confident in certain things. That’s like a miracle to me.

[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

[anony-man]

Sorry for not posting yesterday… having some pain issues :-( but we’re back now. Enjoy!

Chubformers drabble #161!

Characters: Brainstorm and Quark (IDW)

Word count: 1.1k

At the end of the day, everyone had gotten their happy ending—even Brainstorm. Things didn’t turn out quite like he had expected them to, and the cost of miscalculations in his line of dangerous hobbies carried a lot more weight to it than it had when he was aboard a ship of mechs who would have his back, but it was still a happy ending. What more could he hope for?

Brainstorm never settled down for the long haul, and everyone knew it. He had almost surprised himself with how long he’d managed to wait before tinkering with the past and exploring his possible futures, but at the end of his work day, even he deserved to feel satisfied… not just happy, but satisfied. He’d done countless things during his on the Lost Light, both logically possible and impossible, which meant moving on to a life that wasn’t hardly as exciting in one month as it had been in one day was very, very difficult.

The plan hadn’t always been to travel back in time, but he’d done it. Likewise, his past experience with dabbling in the art of altering the timeline for his own benefit had proven itself to be dangerous, but with every passing day Brainstorm spent in the old days, his desire to return to the present moment steadily waned.

Brainstorm hadn’t meant for things to become permanent, but alas, going back in time to reconnect with his old lover and fellow scientist had that effect. He just couldn’t stay away. Luckily for him, he didn’t want to stay away… and he knew Quark secretly appreciated the company.

To him, paving the way for each old member of the Lost Light to find their own happy endings meant going off on their own and discovering just what the future had in store. It almost seemed contradictory, visiting the past to find himself a happy future, but the spark wants what the spark wants or however the saying goes. They were finally going back to the way things should be, enjoying each other’s presence and exploring what could be (and what could’ve been, but that was another story). Brainstorm was happy now, and so was Quark—and it would stay that way, so long as their umpteenth break that day ended relatively soon.

“I should really be writing you up for this, Brainstorm,” the small scientist said as he plucked another jellied cube of energon and popped it into his awaiting companion’s mouth. “Pushing past curfew and breaking lab safety regulations to loop me into your new interests… if I hadn’t been so impressed by your ability to successfully invent time travel, I would be more upset.”

Quark’s words went in one audial and out the other as Brainstorm sat atop an emptied desk and awaited his next bite. Despite the ticking clock alerting them of the building’s closing hours and the way his belly bulged out from his plating after the endless amounts of treats and gummies he’d been fed throughout the day, a derpy smile still remained plastered across his faceplates.

“Look at you,” Quark continued to scold, pausing the rhythm of plucking a treat from the tin container sitting next to Brainstorm in order to give the flier’s thigh a slap, “not even a month has passed since you’ve been here and you’ve already managed to derail most of my projects.”

“In other words,” Brainstorm said, his words muffled by the mouthful of jellied cubes he’d stuffed in during the lull of feeding, “I’m a genius.”

His fellow scientist gave a slow helm shake, but the small smile tugging at his face exposed his affections. Brainstorm was right about one thing, at least. He really was a genius.

Going back in time to spend what little freedom he had left before the next big thing came and swept him off his pedes had always been the end goal, but Brainstorm hadn’t expected it to engulf his interests entirely. It was true, he had spent a good chunk of time developing a way back to the past in order to catch so much of a sliver of the very moments he was living now, but it was still supposed to have been a small brick in the wall of whatever his future turned out to be. He hadn’t planned on this becoming his new normal, and he hadn’t ever planned on staying for so long.

It wasn’t part of the plan, but somehow, it suddenly was the plan. Everyone else had gotten their happy ending, so why not him? His new life mostly consisted of nagging Quark and kicking his pedes in the air as he was pampered and doted on and reminded of proper lab safety between pinches at his softening belly and tender bites pushed past his lips, but what was so bad about that if he was truly happy in the end? For a while, Quark had been his everything. Brainstorm had moved on eventually, of course, but like all things that revolved in a genius’s mind, he eventually came back around to the same old same old.

It was different, this. He hadn’t planned on spending more than a day in the past, and yet here he was. He’d never shown interest in being someone else’s support, nor had he ever believed himself to fill the role of being a glorified guinea pig to the one in charge of the lab, but again, here he sat. It was different, but it was enjoyable, and Brainstorm enjoyed every moment he spent in Quark’s presence.

Scientific endeavors were mixed with sappy moments of downtime as they enjoyed each other’s presence and fed the blue inventor’s raging ego and growing waistline, and no matter how hard he tried, Brainstorm simply couldn’t get enough.

Brainstorm hummed aloud, his pedes swinging in the air as his processor raced with thousands of thoughts by the second. Another gentle tap against his thigh turned into a teasing slap, and he paused his mindless chewing long enough to meet Quark’s gaze.

“Feeling full?” the scientist asked, an edge of wariness to his tone.

Brainstorm swallowed before shaking his helm. “Nah. Just thinking.”

That earned him another sigh from Quark. Still, the small scientist’s smile widened ever so slightly. “You’re always thinking. Here, keep eating. If someone catches me with an open container of snacks in here, I won’t ever hear the end of it.”

Brainstorm did as he was told and happily popped the cube held between Quark’s fingers into his mouth. All the while, he chewed, hummed, and kicked his pedes back and forth as he allowed himself to really enjoy the moment for what it was worth—no more racing ahead for once, no more desperation to jump onto the next thing or find his next source of excitement. He was well and truly content for the first time in a while, and he wasn’t anywhere near ready to move on to the next best thing… especially not when that next best thing was the moment happening in the here and now.

[eweyroo]

I’m throwing 🍍🥑🫒🍏🥦🥬  at yours boys 🌞🌚 like skittles at a child

🍍 - if you could change any one thing about your f/os backstory/character, what would you change? why? I would want them to be happy! To get to be happy! They were programmed to perform in the Theater, not to run the Daycare; I want them to get to do whatever would bring them the greatest joy, and-- short of somehow getting out from under FazCo.'s thumb entirely-- I imagine that would be returning to the Theater as beloved performers (that, or simply never having been made to leave the Theater at all). I would want to keep Moonie from coming under the effects of the Virus, too. The things he did, the things that were done to him, and what he was forced to do...he deserves better than that. He deserves so, so much better than that. I'd take the Virus and wear it myself if I could take that pain away from him. I'd do it in a heartbeat. -------------- 🥑 - is there any niche topics your f/o is interested in? what are they and why do they like them? Amusingly enough, I've managed to get them both mildly interested in aquascaping! It's a form of art in and of itself, with the bonus of having pretty little plants and critters to tend to and dote on, too; it's a really satisfying creative outlet, and a visible change in their environment, built from the ground up, by them, because they wanted to, and exactly how they wanted to. Moon also enjoys dollmaking! Well-- making, customizing, modding, painting; there's a bunch of different ways to make dolls and figurines, and a bunch of different stuff to do with them, and Moon is incredibly talented at doing incredibly delicate work, as it turns out! He can easily spend an entire day working on a project like that, if the lights don't necessitate a switch :3c Sun has been getting really into fiber-crafts! Knitting and sewing are the big two, right now; he's tried out some crocheting, too, but didn't like that one quite as much, it seems. He likes embroidery! And he loves spending time on forums for the aforementioned crafts, up to/including/especially when he gets into online arguments with somebody's grandma about the finer details, ouhbgvfgvbhn --------------

🫒 - what kind of hugger is your f/o? do they give good hugs? do they like hugs? do they like receiving hugs? They give the best hugs!! ^/w/^ Sure, they're not exactly malleable, and sometimes rays can poke or joints can pinch a little awkwardly, but that Absolutely Does Not Matter to me! Not only are Sunny and Moony willing to hug me, they want to hug me, and I want to hug them! Like...dude. We are all so, so, so, SO. UNBELIEVABLY. TOUCH-STARVED. Less so now than we were before, thanks to each other, but still...we have years and years of neglect and isolation to undo, all three of us, and it's going to be a very long road to hoe before the thought of being left alone no longer inspires the feeling of actively starving to death, anymore.

We spend most of our time going out of our way to touch each other, and that very much includes hugging, snuggling, and cuddling! I've joked to them before that sometimes I just wish they could both crawl up inside of my skin and live inside of me forever, so we never have to be apart-- and we all just laughed at the time, but I do think there was more truth to the way they agreed than they'd likely admit. ---------------------

🍏 - if you have any queer headcanons for your f/o, how did they realize they were queer? I don't think either of them put a label to it until after the events of canon, but they've been queer from the start! They've been labeled as freaks, as objects, as lesser-than and different-from and all-wrong-not-right for their entire lives, and that's pretty much just the queer experience in a nutshell, isn't it? :'> Plus, they're two people (separate but inseparable, inextricably intertwined) sharing the same body, and neither of them was designated anything at 'birth'; they've had to build their own senses of being from the ground up, and none of it fits neatly into a cissexual, heteronormative, rigid, modern-day-societal box. I just taught them the lingo once we started spending time together off the clock! ------------------

🥦 - does your f/o have any pet peeves? things that just really really get on their nerves? what are they and why? MESS. NONE OF US LIKE IT. Organized, intentional 'clutter' is one thing, but actual clutter is quite another; we keep a very tidy house! (And not because we have to, this time! Just because we like it this way.) Sun dislikes the sound of people whistling! It's shrill in a way that grates on his nerves and makes him increasingly anxious the longer it goes on, so I make sure never to do it around him-- not that I was ever much inclined to it to begin with. And Moon doesn't like leaving lights on unnecessarily, or leaving electronics plugged in when they don't need to be! He's not particularly environmentally-conscious, but something about it makes him all itchy and aggravated, and he's constantly having to unplug my computer charger when I'm not using it, or stomping up and down the hall, systematically turning off every extra light that Sun left on over the course of the day while he was out x3c ----------------------

🥬 - what are some beige flags your f/o has? so, not bad, but not necessarily good either. just. "oh. you do This."

Sunny gets a little possessive over me in public =w=;; It's not bad, he doesn't do or say anything mean, or try to stop me from going anywhere or talking to people, but I can definitely see it in the way he tenses when strangers take too long talking to me. He kind of tends to hover just over my shoulder, if he's trying to play it off-- but if he's hoping to ward someone away, he gets grabby with me and hangs all over me, kind of drapes himself over me and gets overtly PDA until the conversation ends. He thinks he's slick about this, but he super is not. Lmao <3 And Moony likes to...'keep an eye' on our neighbors. Closely. He patrols the house at pretty regular intervals most nights, and I've caught him many times standing against a wall or a window with his head cocked, listening to something I can't hear, staring into space. Most of the time he fills me in on whatever he just heard-- he's actually a huge gossip, if you give him time-- but sometimes when I ask him, he just laughs and wanders away and leaves me standing there, like, "what the fuck"!

[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!