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skz1-4-3 · 4 months

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MY DEMON CH.1

Navigation || ateez Masterlist || hongjoong Masterlist ||.

¡Click here for the preview which holds important information to understand the story!

Pairings : DEMON!Hongjoong x reader , slight Wooyoung x san(not detailed , just a lot of skinship between those and lolevly chemistry)

Warnings : not proofread , Mentioning of blood , stabbing , choking(in a movie reader will watch) , harassment(reader gets harassed by men on the streets at night). Gore , head being sliced of by unknown power , knife. LMK if i missed something that could be triggering. <3

Word count : 1.7k (1,721 to be exact)

Readers POV : „you…“

Y/n POV : „I…“

no direct interaction with hongjoong yet , but i promise in the next chapter there will be.

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„No, please ! Stay with me , you can’t leave me. Im begging you!“

-1 YEAR BEFORE THE DAY OF THE INCIDENT-

[READERS POV]

You grunted as, you finally carried the last box into your new home, from the van . Your aunt had just passed away due to a tragic car accident, she was the last family member you had left , but now shes gone aswell. Somehow every single one of your family member all died due to tragic events.

You emptied each box and settled down on the slightly dusty couch that got a little damaged from the transport. You prior lived in busan , a small town in South korea and now you were here in Seoul , the city you and your aunt dreamed of visiting before her death.

„I should probably go grocery shopping , since i had to throw everything away“ you sighed , tired from moving. You stood up , grabbed your new keys and drove to the nearest store to buy some food and other things you might think were necessary.

„okay lets see , first lets get some food , i already have enough water at home so no need to worry about that for the time being“ you said out loud , even though there was nobody around that you talked to. You walked down the aisle , scanning the shelves to check if you needed anything in particular . Nothing looking infront of you, you accidentally walked into something or rather someone.

„Oh my , im so sorry. I wasn’t watching where i was going.“ you apologized and bowed to the person you walked into , as they put a hand on your shoulder.

„Please do not bow , its alright.“ a male deep voice said and you raised your head to look at the owner.

„My name is mingi by the way and these three are yeosang , san and wooyoung.“ he introduced himself and his friends to which they all nodded and two of them-san and wooyoung- gave a little wave and ‚hey‘

„Nice to meet you , my name is Y/n“ you spoke and gave them a little smile , they seemed so nice and had a friendly aura. Especially mingi , his aura basically gave you energy . You could see their auras thanks to your moms witch side,that flowed through your veins.

„where are you from by the way ? I can hear an accent“ Mingi asked you , tilting his head in curiosity. You told him that you were from busan and you all had a fun conversation about anything that came to your minds.

..2 MONTHS LATER

-10 MONTHS BEFORE THE INCIDENT-

This encounter was 2 Months ago . Along your journey you all became good friends , almost family. Everything felt natural , you had also met Seonghwa , Yungo and jungho . Today you were all hanging out at you apartment, having another sleepover . You all gathered around and on the couch.

„So what we gonna do?“ Wooyoung asked and everyone turned to look at him . Mingi suggested to watch a horror movie and everyone agreed ,since halloween was approaching anyways. So you gathered some blankets and pillows ,to built a small nest ,to sit in. Everyone sat down comfortably , you were between mingi and yeosang,while wooyoung and san were cuddling each other. Seonghwa and jongho were on the couch, while yunho turned on the selected movie on the TV and proceeded to sit down infront of you and lied his head down ,between your legs. You put a blanked on him ,so it was warm and cozy .

The horror movie felt more like a thriller, as it showed a scene ,where blood was splashing basically everywhere. The character shown on screen was being brutally murdered and stabbed several times as Ghost face-the murderer in the scene- let out a maniac laugh. His free hand which wasn’t holding the knife , choking the poor girl.

Soon the movie was over and you all decided to play a classic game called truth or dare . Whenever you were bored , truth or dare was your solution.

„Okay , Wooyoung . Truth or dare?“ Yeosang asked wooyoung in anticipation.

„Hm truth , i dont trust you with a dare man.“ wooyoung answered and yeosang asked him ,if he was interested in anyone ,at the moment . The young man, had found a love letter in the notes app ,of wooyoungs phone , so he got quite curious. Wooyoung answered „no , i dont think i do.“ so yeosang asked him „what about that little love letter of yours?“ with a sly smile on his face . „I was just trying to be poetic i guess , im planning on writing a song about past relationships.“ he swiftly answered ,as if he was prepared for this question.

Playing another few rounds , yunho got up and walked to the closet beneath the TV to see what other movies you got stored in it. „Hey y/n , what book is this.“ he asked as he held up a book, that your aunt had left you behind, before her death. Strangely to you , it seemed like she knew the date of her death and was waiting for it . Becoming more anxious day after day , and two days before her accident, she gave you the book. It was filled with sentences, in what you assumed to be latin , but some words were still unknown to you ,so thats why you thought, it must be a different one.

„My aunt left it behind for me .“ you told him and took the book out of his hands gently . You opened the book on the last page, since you were supposed to read it from right to the left , other than usual books.

„Bestiam arcesse , tegere , necare , facere quod volo . At mihi ne noceas, ut sum dominus.“( summon the beast, to protect , to kill . But it shall not harm me , as I am its master.) you said out loud , yes you knew that you came from a family of witches -just like mingi , you found out about that when he used a spell to change clothes without knowing that you saw him- but you aunt always told you , that you were to weak to cast a spell , since your dad was human .

Or so you all thought

After you read it out and san raising his eyebrow , seonghwa asked. „What does that mean?“

„I have no idea“ you responded and you all returned to truth or dare and you placed the book behind you. Behind you … just like the weird stare you suddenly felt.

„Okay y/n , truth or dare .“ wooyoung asked you , you answered „dare!“ slightly excited. Wooyoung always had the most fun dares to do. But this time it wasn’t that fun .

„i dare you to get some snacks from the 24/7 store down the street. Please? I am starving.“ he said leaning into you with puppy eyes. You sighed and agreed. Should’ve picked truth. „Let me go with you , its already 2AM and dark outside.“ yunho said being the gentleman he is.

You disagreed and said thats its all good since the store is just down the road and been to it several times before after 3AM. After some arguing he accepted to just stay and wait for you to come back. You took you purse , put on shoes and jacket and left the house.

As you walked down the street with your hands in your pocket , you started to feel slightly uncomfortable. Weird… , you thought as you grew anxious. Out of nowhere a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you , into the alleyway. Another hand covering your mouth as the one that grabbed you held your wrists together behind you. You tried to scream but your sounds got muffled .

„Okay sweetheart , this will god by quickly if you just comply with us.“ said one of the men ,as he twirled the knife in his hands , a disgusting smirk plastered across his face. Your eyes filled with fear and pleading for them to let you go.

Unexpectedly the one holding your wrists let go , or so you thought. When you turned around you saw him unconscious on the flore . The other three were shocked and walked over to him , slapping his cheeks. The second time something weird happened was when another mens throat suddenly splashed a circle of bloods from around it and his eyes widened , you eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Then his head , fell off of his body , landing on the floor next to the -which you thought was unconscious- dead man. The remaining two screamed and your eyes widened in horror. You quickly turned around and ran home where you were safe. Not really.

You were still dazed from what happened. Did the other two die aswell? You questioned yourself in your mind ad you walked into the living room where you found 7 men on couch and floor -or both like mingi whos upper body was on the floor but hips and legs on the couch- all sleeping.

You sighed in relief not having to answer the questioning of wooyoung which would lead to you vaguely telling them what happened , which then would lead to yunho feeling like he should be the one to blame for it.

You walked over to the free couch, which no one was on and settled down. You muscles thanking you ,since you just ran as fast ,as you’ve never been before. Looking down on the table you found the book open on the page from before again. The the guys read it ? You thought before you layed down to finally get some rest.

Why you weren’t confused on what happened just now? You were always told stories ,by your aunt and some of your mother , before they both passed ,on how crazy events happened to them, because they were witches.

Must be a witch thing…

Was the last thing you thought as you finally fell asleep.

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darkhymns-fic · 2 months

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Can I get a tiny umbrella to go with that?

So, a Princess of Hell walks into a bar…and the bartender isn't prepared for what she's asking. Luckily, Husk is a softie at heart.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Husk, Charlie Morningstar, Alastor Rating: T Word Count: 4342 Mirror: AO3 Notes: This is a nicer HH fic for once! Wanted to write both mine and @ms-notebook's favorite characters interacting. (There's also lovely art by her for this story!) Please forgive me for the dumb humor in this.

Husk heard the princess slump against the bar counter behind him. A small groan, followed by a thud. Then, followed by a plaintive “Oww…”

He sighed, turning around from setting up the shelves with new stock. “Tripped?”

Charlie had a hand pressed against her forehead, a little pout forming on her face. “No…I just wanted to lay my head down here.”

“Yeah, well, don’t exactly got pillows.” Husk gestured to the lobby. “The couch is right there if you want to relax.”

But he already guessed that was not what she came for. Still, he wasn’t going to pry unless she opened herself up. And he knew behind that usual bright, and sometimes manic smile of hers, there was a lot weighing on the girl’s mind.

Charlie took a deep breath, finally ignoring the little bump on her scalp. “Um, actually I wanted a different way to relax… You know?”

Husk raised a large eyebrow. “Do I know?”

“Y-yeah! Of course you do! Oops, sorry… I shouldn’t just assume.” Charlie brushed away a lock of her hair. She shifted nervously on the bar stool, her other hand tapping away the counter. “You just usually seem to know things…”

Yeah, he did. And he had a pretty good suspicion right now. “You here for a drink?”

Charlie looked left and right, now using her hands to twiddle her thumbs. Then, she nodded vigorously.

“Heh. Does Vaggie know you’re ‘partaking’ in some sin?”

“I mean! I just want a little sip! Or… unless you think I shouldn’t.” Charlie gave a small whine, hanging her head. “It’s just been so stressful lately with the Extermination being pushed up and we still haven’t gotten any new guests since Sir Pentious…”

Probably because they had Mr. Smiles as their marketing manager and a drunk manning the front desk/bar, but Husk wasn’t really about to point that out now.

“Hey, kid. No worries. I’ll fix you up something real nice then.” He leaned towards her, wings tucked in, feeling more awake than usual. “So, what do ya want? This your first drink?”

Charlie giggled nervously. “Ah, I’ve had champagne at this fancy dinner once… Like half a glass.”

Husk smirked. “So, you’re saying we should start you off strong. Got a couple of shots of vodka here in the back if you’re daring.”

Charlie’s eyes brightened in wonder. “Vodka… I always was curious…” Then shook her head. “Um, maybe not yet! It might be too strong for me…”

At that, Husk had to laugh a bit. His shoulders shook slightly, half-covering his mouth with his hand. “I was mostly joking. Look, we can start off small. You seem like you’d be into cocktails, so I can fix you up a dry martini, tequila sunrise, whatever sounds nice to you.”

Somehow, just listing off basic drink names was enough to get the princess’ face glowing, like she was a kid in a candy store. It was almost adorable, the way her already-blushed cheeks seemed to blush even more. “Tequila sunrise…that sounds so beautiful! You can make that?”

“Been making it for years. Known plenty of ladies who were into those. Though…” He tapped a finger against his chin, giving her another smile. “If I made you a piña colada instead, I can give it to you with a special garnish.” A pause, seeing Charlie wonder just what he meant before he finally said, “A tiny umbrella.”

Charlie stared open-mouthed. “No one ever told me drinks had tiny umbrellas in them!” She brought her hands to her face, awed by this knowledge. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Husk literally could not remember the last time someone got this excited over him making them a drink. (Well, maybe except Mimzy, and those weren’t pleasant memories). But Charlie’s excitement was infectious, and Husk had gotten a little soft for the princess. Even if he thought her redemption ideas were half-baked at best.

“You never knew what you were missing, huh?” he teased. “Just sit tight and I can whip you something up here—”

“Oh wait, I forgot!” Charlie straightened, hands pressed flat on the counter. “Alastor recommended me to get a certain drink from you!”

And suddenly, all the good mood in Husk’s heart went sinking right into the damn floor. Oh. So that’s why she was here.

“…The boss?” Husk blinked. “Recommended?”

Charlie nodded, still beaming her innocent smile. “I told him I’d been feeling a bit stressed lately and… that’s when he mentioned you! And your bar! And your special drink!”

Husk didn’t have a ‘special drink,’ unless one counted the cheap booze he kept underneath the counter for his own imbibing, but he didn’t deny it just yet.

“What did he say exactly?” Husk asked, trying to keep his tone normal. Maybe his boss was just actually being considerate of Charlie. For once. It’s not like Alastor didn’t come by and ask for a few fingers of rye on the rocks himself. And he and Charlie were basically business partners, in a sense.

Charlie clasped her hands together, smiling at Husk as if she was being the most perfect student, all attentive and eager. “Well, he said… Oh, actually he even instructed me on how I should say it! Since it’s a secret menu item and all!”

This was the first he ever heard of any secret menu item. Husk was waiting for the moment all hell would break loose, but he played along. “Okay, uh… go ahead?”

The princess’ expression then turned all serious. She cleared her throat, clenched one hand, and then slammed it on the bar counter. Or, at least her version of slamming a fist. The force of it was barely able to rattle one of the whiskey glasses that Husk was still in the middle of cleaning.

“Husk,” she started, her tone low, her eyes narrowed. “Give me your tallest glass of milk.”

He had to take a moment to be sure he heard that right. Charlie still gave her hard-set stare, which wavered to softness by each passing second.

Yeah, okay, she did just say that.

“…Are you asking me for regular milk?” He paused. “Or like a milk brandy?” There was no way she even knew what that was.

Charlie blinked. She shook the hand that she had slammed with, waving away the aches she must have given herself. “Uh, Alastor didn’t mention? He just said you had some very special milk! And that I should go and try it! Because I also like milk!”

“Special milk? The fuck did he—” Husk blinked. Then, he realized.

Then, he winced. Oh, that disgusting bastard.

Charlie was still in the dark and just kept talking, oblivious to the implications. “Alastor was really raving about your milk, too! How it’s the best out there, but that it’s rare to get? And that you only serve it when you’re in a good mood! He told me that even he can barely get it that much from you himself—”

Husk pressed a hand to his face. He wanted to be buried alive, right now. “Charlie, please stop talking.”

“Oh.” Charlie hunched a little, noticing now the changed atmosphere in the room. “Did…did I say something wrong?”

That was such a loaded question but Husk didn’t have the energy to explain it all, nor did he think explaining would do any good except make Charlie give out a string of apologies that he would barely be able to handle. So instead, he gave another deep sigh and placed a hand on the princess’ shoulder.

“Here, just a piece of advice. If Alastor seems too excited about something, I’d take it with a big fuckton grain of salt. The guy does stuff for shits and giggles and you’re prime entertainment for that.”

Charlie’s eyes lowered, her perky energy from before looking all sapped away. “Oh, so he was just playing a prank on me…” She then looked to Husk again, with what little hope she had left. “You don’t have any milk at all?”

Husk really wished he could fucking kill Alastor this very second. Or at least kick him in the teeth if doing so wasn’t going to get his stomach sliced open for the Radio Demon’s buffet.

“I don’t got milk, kid,” he finalized with a pat on her shoulder. Then he looked to the side, muttering to himself. “At least, not as much anymore.”

“Huh?”

It almost physically hurt hearing his own slip-up coupled with Charlie’s curiosity. God dammit, this whole stupid thing from Alastor was now messing with his head! Husk stepped back. “Just— Don’t worry about it.”

Ugh. He was already exhausted. It didn’t even make any sense to Husk. This wasn’t his boss’ usual style of humor. Did he pick it up from Angel? But he also remembered how Alastor didn’t even like Angel that much anyway, so that wasn’t it. Whatever. This wasn’t a mystery he needed to solve and didn’t fucking want to anyway.

By now though, Charlie looked deeply sadder than before—and also guilty. She knew she had made the air between them awkward, even as Husk tried to get past it. It's not like it was her fault that she was as naive as they come.

“Look, let me just make you something. Still want the umbrellas?”

But Charlie no longer looked as enthused, and shook her head. “Maybe…maybe another time. I should probably get back to work. I forgot, I have to set up the Pilates schedule for everyone! All, um, two of them..”

Ah, man. Husk mentally kicked himself for getting so worked up before. “Hey, Charlie, it’s–”

“No, no, don’t worry! I shouldn’t have bothered you while you were working anyway. I’ll just get out of your way!” And with that, she quickly got up from the stool, put on her great smile that was stretched just a little too wide, and looked a little too tight.

She wasn't as good at hiding things like his boss was, but he could see the similarities.

“I’ll see ya later okay bye!!” And then she hoofed it out of there, even before Husk could say another word.

He leaned on the bar counter, chin placed in his hand and sighed. So much for always bitching to the bartender. Because Charlie just took up all her hurt and swallowed it away instead.

“Alright, everyone! Great job today!” Charlie gave a double-thumbs up, panting heavily as she wound down from the routine–and kept doing so, still wearing her long-sleeved coat and pants while doing stretches and jumping jacks just a few minutes ago. “We’ll pick it back up tomorrow with some pictionary later, alright? Oh, and, uh, sorry about before, Sir Pentious.”

He didn’t really hear her, because he was too busy crying into Vaggie’s shoulder, who had resigned to carrying him to his room. She struggled a bit, occasionally tripping over his long tail/body that kept wriggling in her hold.

Angel, meanwhile, was wiping away some yellow goop off his boots as he followed them out. “Ugh, I told him to not let his little Egg Boiz get near me! I can’t really pay attention to stuff when I’m in the zone!”

Eventually, all left the hotel lobby, leaving Charlie by her lonesome. She finally put down that smile of hers, and sighed, letting herself fall against the couch cushions.

She must have been really out of it, to not notice he was still around.

A quick tap on her left shoulder, and Charlie turned to her left, seeing no one there. Then a quick tap on her right shoulder, and she turned to her right, again seeing no one there. “Huh? Whuh?”

Husk was right in front of her, giving a small wave. “Hey.”

“WHOA WHAT THE HELL?!”

The yell was unexpected, making Husk lower his ears. The girl really did have a pair of lungs on her.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry! I, uh, just didn’t see you there!”

“I mean, I’ve been standing here for like ten minutes,” Husk explained, feeling awkward as he stood plainly right in the middle of the room, wings half-extended. “Watched the whole pilates exercise. And the death of Egg Boi number… four? Two?” He shrugged.

“Oh, right… I’m sorry, again. It’s just I’ve been… um…”

Trying to avoid him, he suspected. He could already see the guilt come back to her face, her fidgety hands playing in her lap, the flush of shame on her cheeks. The tension between them was already back.

Well, looks like he’d have to make the first move.

Husk then stepped over to the couch, sitting right next to Charlie, his wings folded in to avoid them bumping into her. He placed a hand into his pocket. “Hey Charlie,” he started to ask, eyes shifting to her. “You like magic tricks?”

Immediately, that got her.

Husk had never actually seen anyone vibrate from excitement before, but he swore he could feel it through the couch they both shared. Charlie had turned to him, eyes shining in wonder, her body thrumming like some sort of machinery. She was no longer just a kid at a candy store, she was a kid that got brought to the circus for the very first time.

“You mean the magic they do on Earth that looks like real magic but isn’t actually at all?! I love those!” Charlie had her feet tapping in excitement. “I didn’t know you did that type of magic!”

“Heh… yeah, it was a thing of mine back in the day.” Before all the real magic came into his afterlife, but he can’t help but love the classics. After a quick shuffling of his deck, he then held out several cards in his hand, their black foil surfaces gleaming in the lobby’s lamplight. “Pick a card. Any card.”

“Ooo, I know this one!” Charlie kept bouncing in her seat as she quickly picked the left-most card. “And then I memorize it, right? Oh, and I can’t tell you!”

Husk nodded. “Yep, you already know the rules. Now you know what happens next?”

Charlie, grasping the card in both hands, looked at Husk with that same wonder. Stars were literally in her eyes, making Husk blink at the brightness. “I give it back to you?”

Husk shook his head. He then took off his hat, revealing a bit of fur tuft that he never bothered to comb back anymore, and held the open end of it to Charlie. “Put the card in here.”

Charlie blinked, then blinked again. Then she vibrated again. “This is different!!”

“The key to magic is to keep them guessing,” Husk said with a proud smile. “Or would you rather hold onto that card as a keepsake?”

“Ah, no I want to see the trick!” Charlie then quickly deposited the card into the black abyss of the hat’s opening. It was so dark inside that no light seemed to be able to penetrate it.

Husk then lifted the hat to eye level, turning it over a few times for Charlie. Then he reached in and pulled it inside out. There was felt and lint, but no card to be found. “Nothing to see here.”

Charlie gasped loudly. “Where did it go?” Then, a haunted look in her eyes. “Wait, does this mean I lost your card? Oh no… I didn’t mean to…”

“Huh? No, this is fine!” Husk quickly answered her, already seeing the guilt come back again. Damn, she was the kind of girl to get weepy over stepping on a blade of grass too hard. He’d have to be careful. “This is how it goes. Relax, kid. We’re still not done with the trick.”

“Oh, okay!” Charlie smiled brightly again, then clapped her hands. “This is so exciting!”

Husk couldn’t remember the last time he had a great audience like Charlie. It kinda made his chest feel warm at the thought. Clearing his throat, he pushed back the inside of the hat so that it was normal again. Then held it out to her. “Now go and get your card back.”

She blinked, looking at the hat, then pointed to herself. “But, I don’t see it in there?”

“Just humor an old man, why don’t ya?” Husk said, making sure his tone was as easy as they come.

Charlie only hesitated a second before putting her hand inside the hat. Husk had to do all he could to suppress the grin he was feeling at the edges of his mouth.

Because then he saw the look on Charlie, saw her mouth gape open as she pulled in her arm, and was now holding a certain cocktail drink in her hand, in a tall highball glass with orange and red colors, complete with a matching orange slice and–

“Oh my gosh there's even a little umbrella!! ” She gasped, looking at the drink even more. “How was it even in there!? You were moving your hat around and, and, oh wow is that fruit? I love fruit!”

“Yeah, figured you had a sweet tooth.” Husk chuckled, plopping the hat right back on his head. “Now, if you want something with a bit more kick to it, you can try the sunset version, but I think tequila sunrise suits you more.”

The cocktail was one of the easiest he could make. It only took him a few minutes to make, and the presentation was worth the effort, giving a simple drink that little flair that Husk used to enjoy more before he became a certain Overlord’s minion.

Charlie kept looking at it like it was a piece of art, admiring the colors and poking at the umbrella that stuck to the orange slice, and had a pierced cherry right in the middle. “Can I, um, eat this? Or is that frowned upon?”

Husk snickered a bit. This princess was good to have around. “You can eat the cherry. The orange slice is for flavor, but if you wanna gobble that up too, feel free. I don’t suggest eating the umbrella unless you have a specific taste for it.”

With a happy squeal, Charlie picked up the umbrella to gulp the cherry. She was kicking her feet in excitement, once again looking to the drink, then back to Husk. Then back to the drink.

“Charlie, if you think you need my permission to take a sip, you don’t.” Still, he gestured to her with a furry hand, and that was apparently the last barrier for the princess to get through.

“Okay, well… bottoms up!” She took a sip–a big one, which maybe Husk should have warned her about. Because right after, Charlie coughed, the ice clinking together with her motion.

“Whoa, slow down,” Husk said. His wing had instinctively moved, the tip placed against her back as he helped her clear her throat. “Unless you’re having shots, drinking doesn’t have to be a race.”

Charlie straightened then, blinked at Husk. What followed was a wide grin, coupled with starry eyes that were even more radiant than before. “It’s…good! I mean, it’s a little burney in my throat, but I can deal with that. It’s really good!” She took another sip, only coughing a little bit this time.

Damn, at this rate, he wondered if she’d get tipsy already. But nah, surely the Princess of Hell could handle it, even if she never drank before. It was in her makeup, wasn’t it?

But before she had her third sip, she stopped just in mid-tip to her mouth. She then lowered the glass, her brow furrowing.

Husk would have been lying to himself if he said he wasn’t worried. “What’s wrong? Something about it not agreeing with you?” He’d known people who got tired of a drink just a few sips in.

“Hm? Oh no! It’s great! But I’m just remembering the card… Where did it go? I saw it go in your hat…”

Ah. Charlie didn’t like leaving loose ends, he noticed.

Husk held out one finger, then pointed at the umbrella held between her fingers. “May I have that?”

“Uh, okay.” She did so, laying it gently in his palm. The little pink and violet colors that made up its tiny canopy was bright against his fur.

He then rolled the umbrella to hold between his claws by its wooden stem. Then, he closed the umbrella so it was thin, balancing it on his knuckles for a bit. Suddenly, with a flourish that was hard for the eye to catch, he was now holding the missing card in his hand. “Two of hearts, right, princess?”

If Charlie was already drunk by this point, maybe it would have explained a few things. How she gasped loudly, eyes getting so wide that he wondered just how she was able to do so without transforming into some demonic entity. “That’s amazing! It was the little umbrella this whole time!?”

Or, maybe that was just how Charlie was. He flipped around the card in his hands once more before it vanished into thin air. “Can’t tell you all my secrets. Now come on, you still got a lot to chug down.”

Charlie, with a little giggle, went back to nursing her drink, now taking her time to enjoy it. Husk relaxed then. Maybe after this, he could have her try another mix, if she’d be up to it.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise to Husk that Charlie would be a lightweight when it came to alcohol.

The fact that after her fourth sip and numerous giggles, she then promptly fell asleep on his shoulder, snoring loudly, was a bit of a dead giveaway.

Husk had to, carefully, take the half-empty glass from her hands in case she spilled it. Seriously, four sips? And then lights out just like that?

Occasionally, she giggled in her sleep, rubbing her face into his body with no shame. “Hehe, this pillow is furry…”

“...Kid, you’re lucky you’re cute,” Husk muttered. It wasn’t the first time he’d have a drunk fall asleep on him (or get angry with him, or flirt with him. There were many kinds of drunks in Hell), but he’d fight back or throw off the drunk for invading his personal space.

He could let it slide for Charlie.

But when a familiar shadow slid over them, he felt his fur stand on end. The result had Charlie giggling more, saying something about being ticklish.

“Well, Husker! Truly a compromising position I find you in.”

Husk rolled his eyes. In reflex, he started drinking Charlie’s cocktail for the familiar, pleasant buzz. It was the only way to deal with the constant buzzing that was Alastor’s voice. “I’m on break, so don’t get all uptight.”

With both hands on the top of his mic cane, the demon raised an eyebrow as looked over at Husk and Charlie. He then leaned forward, eyeing Husk in particular as Charlie snored open-mouthed, and a bit loudly.

“Now, my good man, I hope you’re not doing anything untoward to her. It certainly wouldn’t do any good for this hotel’s reputation.”

Husk could physically feel a vein pop in his forehead, as well as a growl leaving his throat.

“I’m gonna rip that mouth of yours if you don’t quit it with these stupid fucking jokes.”

“Jokes? I’m simply voicing a concern.”

“Bull shit. You just–” Husk tried to stand, then felt Charlie’s weight, which kept him locked in place. “Ah, fuck.” He didn’t want her to wake up to an argument.

Alastor placed a hand on his chin, his textured chuckles sounding even more obnoxious than before. “Are you now the princess’ pet as well?”

Husk made sure to keep his voice low, but he put all the annoyance right into his inflections. “I’m no one’s pet. And you know this isn’t actually anything. First you tell Charlie some weird fucking joke because you knew it would piss me off and now you try to make it sound like I’m being a creep. What is your damn problem? You’re the one that forced me to work at this hotel in the first place. Worried I’ll make friends here or something?”

And with that, he realized it. It was quick, but the twitch in Alastor’s right eye and the sharp little static that fizzed, Husk had been able to learn his boss’ tells.

Maybe Alastor just hadn’t expected Husk to change his ways.

But the Radio Demon simply shrugged, turning away as if he was suddenly bored with the situation. “I was brought here to keep an eye on the hotel, and all of its residents. I only want to make sure everything is in working order. Also,” he turned his neck completely around, the crack making Husk wince. Ugh. He always did that to weird him out. “I just like to have a bit of fun once in a while.”

His boss’ exits were the same as his entrances–quick and full of shadows, but this time leaving the lights in the lobby brighter than before. Husk sighed once he saw Alastor was gone. He didn’t know if that was another weird temper thing with his boss, another prank of his, or what.

Charlie started to murmur in his sleep, sounding a little upset. “It’s dark…”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Husk wrapped his wing around her like a blanket, and Charlie instantly snuggled into it. She breathed more evenly, and the lines on her face were gone. “No more nightmares, ok?”

Huh, he wasn’t sure when he became a softie, but the princess did say how she wanted to redeem everyone…

Husk looked at the tequila sunrise in his hand, the ice mostly melted, the orange slice nearly slipping off the rim. Huh, what a weird hotel, he thought, before taking another sip. He’d stay here for as long as Charlie needed. He could use the rest, too.

“Sleep tight, princess,” he said, watching as she gently curled more into his wing to keep warm.

#hazbin hotel #husk #charlie morningstar #alastor #fanfiction #one shot #fanart of fic #I just want these two to snuggle and be friends

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 1 year

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<[ ♡ ~ Introduction

Hi!! I'm Bvnny, I’m excited to do this exchange with you. I’m fem-presenting but I consider myself nonbinary. I don’t perceive myself as really having a gender and i don’t feel feminine or masculine, however, i like to do more feminine presenting things. I use she/her and they/them pronouns. I’d like a romantic matchup and I’m bisexual but tbh I don’t see myself with thirteen lol so that kind of cuts out the only girl. Also, if I could NOT get paired with Beel that would be awesome- he reminds me of my little brother for me to see him like that ;-;. I don’t have a lot of freetime but I play video games with my sister and I like to sew. I also love researching gang-related crime, serial killers, and anything involving children and their development. I love criminal psychology and child development-based psychology so opportunities to learn and even combine them always make me happy.

<[ ♡ ~ Appearance

I’ve got warm black hair that goes down just past my chin. Its a medium bob with some curtain bangs. I’m 5’2 and about 100 lbs so I'm pretty small (shelves are a bitch). I’ve got light brown eyes with a weird dark greenish brown ring around it. I’m biracial (whispanic lesgooo) so I’m not super tan but I’m not a ghost either. I’m a comfortable light olive and I can tan more with sunlight (ew) I’ve got enough freckles that you notice if you're right in front of me but not so many that it takes over my whole face. I’m normally in my converse or my work boots (which are always shined to be perfect thank u <3) I’m definitely a rectangle and I’m fairly thin. I’ve got hardly any ass and minimal boob-age. I’ve got p good thighs tho so that's nice. However, I've got the “ideal” body type for the stereotypical y2k outfits!!!! That's the majority of my closet- I wear lots of flare jeans, halter tops, and honestly if you look up 2000s I've probably worn half the outfits there. Brown is the best color for me, but I wear lots of yellow (my fave!!). Another huge part of my style is influenced by chicano culture since that’s what I was raised in and around. I have loads of FB County Charlie Brown crop tops in about 8 different colors. My dream is for the charlie brown halter tops, but for now I’ll live with just my flannel halter. I really just love dressing up for anything- no such thing as overdressed in my book. I like spending hours on my makeup and I refuse to leave the house without my eyeliner and eyeshadow being perfect. I put a lot of effort into my appearance- skincare twice a day, making sure my makeup is perfect, making sure my outfit is on point, etc., etc.. If I don't feel like it’s my best, I probably won’t wear it. It’s either a nice and easy 5 minutes or it takes me an hour. Between us, I’ve been late to school because of my makeup on more than one occasion (and it’ll happen again).

<[ ♡ ~ Personality

Here’s a few of my personality stuff incase you don't want to read through:

Enneagram 2w1

INFP

Scorpio Sun, Scorpio Moon, Pisces Rising

I’ve also got ADHD and a weird anxiety disorder (mentions of anxious thoughts and compulsions) I go into at the end. it’s the last paragraph of this section if you want to skip it!!

Those basically boil it down to everything you need to know, but i’ll go in depth! I’m the oldest of 5 siblings. My sister A is about to turn 16, my sister B is 14, my brother C is 13, and my youngest (and favorite i’ve got no shame about it) is D and she’s 7. Honestly being their big sister is my only personality trait- D is all I talk about. She’s literally always with me too. I’m at all of her school events, she hangs out in my room (even when I’m not there), she’s going with me to grocery stores and if I get free time I’ll play video games with her like minecraft, among us, and maybe roblox (strong maybe, i have to be in a real good mood it makes me car sick ;-;)

My learning disability can make me forget things and seem fairly spacey. Right now it’s for sure ADHD, and my therapist is leaning towards autism as well but we’re avoiding an official diagnosis bc it will limit me in the career I want to enter. I cannot sit still for the life of me- I’m convinced if i do i’m gonna die. Normally i’m pretty good about masking with minimal energy- one of my special interests has always been psychology. i’ll mirror people for fun sometimes, but then i end up accidentally picking up habits. but, at the end of the day, i’m still a big neurodivergent mess. my biggest stims are chewing (rubber, my lips and fingers (not hard!!!), and silicone), tippy taps, arm flapping, and spinning. I love headphone cords and lego tires, they’re my favorite and they’re just so comforting. bc if my chewing stim, i’m literally always snacking. people get concerned when i tell them i don’t have a lot of full meals but i literally ate 2 costco boxes of goldfish, about 3 packages of gerber star puffs for babies, and still had lasagna for dinner. i eat a lot- just not all at once. this also can cause me to start stress eating. Its hard for me to be hyper aware at the end of the day too. My jobs require me to be watching everything, but at the end of it, i just want to watch my LEDS change colors.

As much as I love my siblings, they are also the reason you can see a couple gray hairs starting to grow. They are the biggest trigger for my compulsions- especially D. If something isn’t perfect, and my youngest sister is around, I get unreasonably stressed out. I always joke that I can never sleep when she’s in my room because I’m worried the Kool-Aid man will bust through the wall and I'll sleep through it. However, there is some weight to that. If (and tbh when) my sister falls asleep in my bed, I’m up doing anything to keep me busy because for whatever reason it just doesn’t feel safe to sleep. This stems for the kids I work with as well. My co-workers make jokes about me being a perfectionist but it feels like if something is out of place bad things will happen. We love anxiety, real hot girl shit.

Small things I’ll do is constantly re-organize things. I’m constantly fidgeting with stuff and putting things back into “place” (where I decided they have to go for the rest of time). I do the same with our silverware. I’ll make sure all of our plates are in a rainbow. I have to do certain things in the exact same order every time. I’m VERY particular about how stuff in my room is- the quickest way to stress me out is to touch my stuff, move it around, or mess with my routine. Depending on how I’m feeling, that might literally make me have a breakdown. But being able to expect things every single time or fix things and make it right just calms me and makes me feel in control of something small, and even that can boost my mood and confidence a bit.

I work 3 jobs right now- law enforcement, I co-teach in a special occupational pre-school for high school students, and I baby sit at least twice a week. I have been pursuing a childcare career for 5 years, however, right now I’m piloting an state-wide high school internship program for local law enforcement departments. It was a pain to try and get started- I get to take the trial run since i’m 18 and a senior with a lot of law club training. I got voted as president of our high school’s law enforcement club as a joke my sophomore year and I just… keep… getting… re… elected. It’s not bad- I actually switched from thinking about teaching because of it and now I’m considering juvenile probation and teaching as a retirement job. I’m still debating- teaching is very important to me.

Because I’ve had a lot of work in childcare and shitty retail jobs, i’ve got an ungodly amount of patience. I have a scar on my leg from where a kid threw a table at me- he was still my favorite at the end of my program tho. It takes a lot for me to not like someone. I’m an upbeat person who is always eager to help and lend a hand. There’s an old lady trying to load something big into her car? Bam, Bvnny to the rescue. Need a door opened? Bam, door held. A lot of this stems from being the oldest of 5 tbh- I not only want to be someone my siblings can look up to, but I also want to be someone who can be as awesome as their parents. Admittedly, it gets really difficult when my siblings are all so different, my parents are grade-A overachievers, and I've got a bingo game going with potential learning disabilities. But I always push myself anyways- usually too far and burn myself out but it’s cool (this is a cry for help /j)

Because of how much I push myself to be better, I see a lot of improvement over time. However this also can make me a smidgen (a big smidgen lmaooo) bit defensive over how I present myself. Like, I’ve been ugly. I’ve been teased. I’ve been bullied. But I’ve worked my ass off to fix those things, and I work my ass off to maintain those things. I just put a lot of effort into how I carry myself and having it insulted is like damn I worked so hard for what???? Like if you call me ugly its like ugh but honestly I don’t care if I don’t know you. The one thing that will ALWAYS piss me off is when people try to discount my intelligence. Like I said before, I’ve been the ugly kid. I’ve been a weird kid. I’ve been the kid that gets bullied for stuff I can’t control. HOWEVER, the one thing I’ve always had going for me was that I’m smart. I was always the one helping with homework and it saved my ass more than once. I’ll take constructive criticisms, but not asshole criticism. It’ll hurt my pride </3

On a serious note, If I were to connect to any of the seven sins, it would 100% be Lucifer’s. I wouldn’t say i’m lucifer-levels of pride, but like it’s def there. I take pride in my siblings, my appearance, my job, etc., etc. I’m proud, but I feel like I’ve earned it with how hard I’ve worked to get here and how fucking cool my siblings turned out (that also might just be my ego talking, who knows?) Like A and B are so beyond beautiful and super popular. They're awesome at sports and are amazing with people. C is 6’2 and 270lbs of muscle (he’s 13 need i remind you ;-;) but he’s gentle and he gives the best hugs and he can fix literally anything. We also go on brother-sister dates to panda express after he wins a football game (he’s had a perfect season and my wallet hurts). D is so good at art and she’s beautifully kind. She can communicate better than adults do. Like if someone is bothering her she can set her boundary and stick with it. She is super empathetic and loves animals and wants to be a dog groomer when she grows up. She’s unironically funnier than all of us and with the amount of sass that leaves her mouth it’s obvious she’s got 4 big siblings (it’s never disrespectful tho, that’s the best part).They are all going to do wonderful things and I’m so excited to see it. I will also do anything, and I mean anything, to guarantee they get to do those great things they dream about.

<[ ♡ ~ Relationship Info

For a partner, I seriously need someone who can understand that I have no freetime. At all. Ever. I hardly ever leave the house, and if I do it’s literally to go shopping. For 18 i feel so lame lol. Chances are my partner is going to be one of my 3 friends. Despite not even being out of high school yet (2 more months thank god) I need something more domestic and less teenage romance. Like getting home from work and relaxing with our 4 dogs (forgot to mention I have 4 big dogs whoops). I need someone who is decent enough with kids to get along with my siblings. It’s also super important that I can have conversations with them- and they want to have them too. Not like “Hi honey how was your day?” “good” “What did you do?” “work.” I want them to want to talk too. I want to know everything about my partner. Would you love me if i was a worm? Would you love me if YOU were a worm? What if we were both worms? I want to have stupid conversations like that but I would also kill to talk about psychological theories and child development and have not-stupid conversations. I want someone intelligent enough to talk to me and make me want to learn, but also willing to indulge in my stupid theoretical conversations. They’ve also gotta understand my siblings will literally always come first. It could be our wedding day and if my sister calls me and says she needs me i’ll be out of there so fast you wouldn’t even have time to process. Family is super important to me, and eventually I want my very own little family that will be just as important, if not more so.

My top 3 love languages are quality time, physical touch, and acts of service. I’d say quality time and physical touch are the ones I want the most, but acts of service are the ones I appreciate the most if that makes any sense.

Quality Time- I'm huge on napping together and just parallel play (doing different activities but together). I love napping together because I literally always need one, but I'm more than content to just cuddle while I play my games on my phone and my partner does whatever they’re doing. Hell, we don’t even have to cuddle (I'd like it if we did). We can just sit in the same room and enjoy each other's presence. My quality time also extends to my family- the chances of my youngest sister being with me is pretty much 100%. She’s my thunder buddy- if she doesn't want to hang out with you neither do I. Most of the time if she’s with me she’s drawing or playing games on her own and is just hanging out with me in my room or in the car. If I have time Ill play games with her so if you aren’t down to spend some time with her then out the door with you. Realistically, if I were to go down to the devildom, she’d end up coming with me in some freak magic accident. And I’d make it so she can stay- when I said I’d do anything for them I was NOT kidding.

Physical Touch- I know I said we don't have to cuddle but like if we can I’m over the moon. I love getting to feel my partner. I'm okay with linking pinkies when we do stuff or touching knees when we sit. As long as I can feel my partner next to me I'm over the moon! I love hugs, I love kisses, I love playing with people's hair, I love getting my hair played with. I’m always giving my youngest sister little scratches on the head or smoothing her hair down or straightening her clothes. I’ll give her hugs before I leave and she always falls asleep cuddling with me. I never say no when my brother wants to give me hugs (which is all the time, bless his heart) and even when he picks me up off the ground I’m still okay with it. My middle sisters are NOT as fond of me touching them so I try to avoid it- B will literally swat my hand away if I’m even remotely close to her. But I’ll do small things like tucking in their shirt tags or fixing their hair. Does this fall into acts of service? Kind of, but it’s the only contact I get with them let me have it ;-;

Acts of Service- I have so much I need to get done. All the time. Every day. And there are tons of things I struggle with doing even when I’m not trying to get 80 other tasks done. Like laundry- laundry always ends up being the last of my list. Without fail. Cleaning in general just hardly ever happens.I pretty much live in my car with how often I’m driving and it definitely shows. If I find time to clean my spaces, chances are it’s at the very end of my day when I’m tired and honestly I end up putting it off for extra hours of much needed sleep. It’s not that I want my partner to do all the cleaning- honestly I’m so particular I’d rather do it myself- but if they did something like laundry or they made food for tomorrow or just something small it means the world. However this also goes both ways. I love doing stuff for other people. I love getting to make my partner meals or help with a project or carry something for them. It just makes my heart happy to relax with my loved ones. <3

Ifs too long let me know- I’ll give you a TLDR lol <3333 I’m super looking forward to this matchup with you :)))

Hi Bvnny! I am so excited and happy to do this exchange* with you! Your idea is one of a kind and so unique, and I love it very much! Don't worry about having written too much, it's more material for me to work with after all. Now, without any further delay, I pair you with...

Simeon!

To be quite honest, while I was reading through everything, it was so hard to pinpoint who would be a good match for you. I would think, "Huh, this character is perfect for them" and then BAM! you hit me with something that makes me go "Now wait a minute-"

In all honesty, it was fun, and for some time I was stuck between Mammon and Simeon, but Simeon won at the end, as you can see lol.

Simeon adores everything about you, from your freckles to your outfits. How can he not? You are mesmerizing in his eyes. He feels extremely happy that you take care of how you look, not because of what others think or say, but because you feel like it, because you want to. He wouldn't mind if the two of you got late for RAD because you wanted your makeup to be perfect. Chances are he's there with you watching you, his eyes wide in wonder and admiration, or helping you if you allow him to.

While he is not one for much PDA , one of Simeon's favorite things is to press featherlight kisses to your freckles, whenever you allow him. Solomon teases him about being obsessed with them every once in a while, but Simeon doesn't mind.

Simeon is good with children. He likes to listen to you talking about your siblings and wishes to meet them himself. He knows and understands that family comes first for you. He gets a little nervous about meeting your siblings, especially D, because he wants to leave a good impression on them. Not only because they are your siblings, but because your talking about them has made him grow fond of them.

Simeon is very attentive when it comes to you. He can't help it, its in his nature to care and nurture. He is good at realizing when you get a bit fidgety or look like you need sometime away from whatever has your anxiety spiking. He makes sure that you don't skip meals, and even if you do snack because of your chewing stim, whatever you snack on is nutritious. He will absolutely die if you mirror something he does or pick up a habit of his. You are too adorable for his poor angel heart, have mercy on him lol-

Simeon likes how the two of you you could be discussing whether you would love the other person if they were a worm, and afterwards, about a documentary you watched. Many of your discussions give him ideas for his books. You are, quite literally, his muse.

Simeon doesn't like seeing you burn yourself out. He loves you, and knows just how beautiful and amazing you are inside and out. Your tendency to push yourself too far brings out his protectiveness, and he can and will mother hen you into taking care of yourself before anything else. He will not have you ignoring your needs and wants. Simeon also will not stand for anyone taking undue advantage of your helpful nature.

Simeon is in awe of you. Your three jobs? Your ungodly amount of patience? Your fierce and protective love for your siblings? Your pride in yourself and your siblings? All of this inspires him, and he falls in love with you a little bit more every second he spends with you. Loving Simeon is very natural, very soft, and definitely domestic. He is very physically affectionate in private, but a little reserved in public. He adores cuddling with you anytime, whether it is while you are talking to each other, watching a movie, or its you playing a game on your phone while he reads or something. He knows you don't have a lot of free time, and likes to spend what time you do have with him plastered to your side. In public, he is not as clingy, but anyone who looks at him knows that he is completely head over heels for you. How? Because he is always at your side, his hand on the small of your back either guiding you somewhere or just resting there like a claim. His eyes never seem to wander from you, a content smile on his face.

Simeon likes doing things for you. So yes, he will do the laundry for you and clean up, just to see that radiant smile on your face. He likes playing with your hair, and falls in love with you all over again if you do it to him. One of the things he buys for you every time he goes shopping is hair accessories. One time he made a flower crown for you himself, then spelled it so the flowers wouldn't wilt. He is surprisingly innocent and boyish and just so, so in love with you~

Simeon is very supportive. No matter what you want to do, which career you want to choose, he is always there for you. He had been told his presence is soothing and comforting, and he wishes you feel the same way. That you feel comfortable and loved and cherished whenever you're with him, because you deserve the world. And he would love to give it to you on a silver platter.

*Please note that matchups are not open right now.

#ice speaks #matchups #obey me matchups #bvnny #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me simeon #simeon #i love this idea so much #exchanging matchups as a way to get in touch with and know more about fellow obey me writers?#count me in!#amazing idea bvnny!#new mutual!

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alarrytale · 8 months

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I also think Harry wants to get an EGOT. But I don't really think that was the reason for him to get into acting. I mean, Harry can get an EGOT just by writting songs for soundtracks or by having producer credits in things like TV shows/broadway shows, etc, he doesn't need to act to get there.

I think he went into acting probably because he was encouraged by his team to do so. A lot of pop stars have done the same in the past, more or less successfully. Getting themselve in a different industry, acting, in this case, will keep them relevant even if one day their albums underperforms. It's basically their way to try to expand an artist shelve life by making them known by other things besides music and establish them more as household names.

I also don't think Harry has ever seemed super passionate about acting nor that he thought he would EGOT becuase of it, as I said. I really think it was just to make him more of an household name, which they achived, because even though DWD was a disaster it made everyone aware of Harry, even people outside of his target demographic, and lots of people who didn't know who he was before.

And yes I also don't think Harry is super talented acting wise, but i actually think he is able with the skills he has to carry secundary roles of the same size of the one he had on Dunkirk. And if Harry and his team want him to keep acting he should go for those type of roles, small ones.

About his co-stars, I agree some of them resented him a bit for taking the focus away for them and the other things you mentioned. But that's a bit inevitable. Harry has reached a level that he has more star power than pretty much any actor from his generation, so unless Harry ends up in a movie with older and really established actors, or he will always end up being the focus for the media. I mean, even in Eternals, with The Angelina Jolie there, during the press tour they did for the movie every two questions were them asking the actors how it was to work with Harry.... There's not much you can do about that, I don't think... maybe Harry is too famous for his own good.

Also, about Harry being too famous for his own good. Just to say, on his defense, that most of Harry acting performances were not that good but they were also not awful. I 've seen way worse from professional actors and none of them got so much shit from film critics as Harry did. As I say once again because he is too famous for his own good, film critics couldn't miss the chance to try to knock him down a peg or two, they can't stand seeing someone be too successfull... Either way, even though Harry is surround by yes man I think he indeed knows about what those film critics said about him. And I actually felt bad for him last year because it seems that he takes to heart the things people say about him and critics didn't want to back off of him for shit. Either way, I'm sure if he wants to keep acting he will do acting lessons or something like that. Harry seems like a prefectionist.

All the anons about actor harry and my answers are under the cut.

The opinions vary, it depends on several things, but from my point of view, i agree with you.

Hi anon(s),

I agree with you, that might have been his motivation. Extending his shelf life is a good argument. I don't think he's good at acting, but also not the worst. He's just lacking natural talent and he hasn't the time nor inclination to improve imo.

I also think that Harry is not a good actor. His facial expressions are overplayed and put on (David and Ruppert are, conversely, full of “inhabited” finesse). Harry seems off when he plays. I'm sorry for the fandom but it's a fact.

what happened with the dunkirk cast ?

Nothing other than harry seemingly hanging more around the crew than the cast. It seemed like his cast mates resented him for getting the role, or they simply didn’t get along very well. I don't think they're in contact now.

Coming back to DWD, I get that you haven´t seen in because of the second hand embarassement and of course you don´t want to support OW....but is there a chance that you´ll watch it just out of the sarcasm when you know he can´t act // it needed that awful stunt and surrounding drama that became famous than the movie itself and maybee to see the difference between true actor (Florence) and singer-became-actor-because-that´s-popular-now? I mean, I watch sometimes bizzare things just because I know it´s bizzare.

(plus there´s this option to not supporting her by getting the movie you-know-where haha)

And talking about actor Harry - it´s probably also unpopular opinion but I really hope his contract with Marvel will somehow get cancelled because for me 1) Marvel´s totally desperate since Avengers Endgame and every movie after the last Avengers just sucks and so 2) getting Harry involved as a character just shows how desperate Marvel is - and I get that it´s all about money actually but still - please, Harry, you don´t need to drag yourself down this way.

If he´ll continue acting, I would prefer to see him in those small/indie movies with less famous actors. Like Taylor and Nick from RWRB.

And last opinion - I have a theory why MP went much better like how Harry fits in the cast simply because they got to know each other before filming (they had like 3 weeks for reheasals and to know each other?) and he probably felt much more comfortable with queer people who understood him and he didn´t have to pretend. Btw I also have a theory that David knows he´s gay like Harry told him because he´s gay himself and so Harry knew he can fully trust him and be open. And that´s maybe why Harry doesn´t follow him on IG because they maybe got stronger bond and so he doesn´t want any gossip (it´s enough that some tabloids wrote he had something with Emma omg). But that´s probably stupid theory, I don´t know.

No, i won't watch it. I have no inclination to do that at all. I agree with Marvel, i hope they changed their minds (if the rumours are true) and we've seen the last of his acting. About mp, yes maybe, but i just think he had better motivation to do the film. I think both David and Emma knows he's gay and with Louis. I don't think H is that close with David, also ig followers means nothing.

#sorry for the short replies but i'm so busy this week #actor harry #harry image #dwd #mp

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a-god-in-ruins-rises · 9 months

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palm tree, papyrus, camellia?

this one got a little long, sorry.

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

lmao oh yeah. i've always been prone to sympathizing with villains. and i'm gonna use the term villain here pretty loosely as just a "bad guy" (or someone who is portrayed as such), regardless of whether they're the protagonist or antagonist or a side character.

but a few "villains" i love: vader/palpatine/dooku/thrawn, light yagami (or L to a slightly lesser extent), azula (and zuko before his turn), kuvira, lelouch, itachi uchiha, silco, gendo ikari, griffith, walter white, littlefinger, dany, general hummel, general shepherd, captain ahab, dutch (he was a good man! a man with a plan! manipulated by a rat.), hans landa, judge holden, ozymandias, homelander (what can i say? he's literally me. thank you patriots!), satan, etc.

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

lmao "endzeit" by heaven shall burn. it's not hard to tell what i like about it. first, it's high energy and aggressive. but the lyrics are what really get me. i used to listen to this song back in my "anarchist" days in high school, back when i had dreams of violent revolution and martyrdom. ah, youth! but the energy and the lyrics still resonate with me today. it gets me hyped whenever i listen to it. man, i haven't listened to this in a minute. brings me back. memories of listening to it in the locker room before football practice or walking home from school under the orange glow of the autumn sun. it reminds me of all those other anarchist and punk kids i used to hang out with. i can't believe that was over a decade ago.

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

i mentioned a bit about my siblings in another ask last night and how different i am from them. that should give you an idea. i was basically the opposite of them in almost every way. as a kid i was "the quiet one" or "the strange one." was always a running joke in my family that i was adopted or that i was secretly an alien or something. i was content being alone, i read a lot of books, i loved animals and catching bugs, i looked at things through my microscope and the stars through my telescope. my brother had posters of models and celebrities and dirt bikes. i had the declaration of independence and old glory hanging on my wall, and posters of dinosaurs and spartans and romans.

my brother had shelves full of trophies he got from playing a variety of sports. my shelves were full of books or random trinkets or oddities i've collected and displayed or science experiments or terrariums/jars of different insects and animals. my brother had a lot of friends and he was always going to parties. i had no friends except imaginary ones. i often attribute my very active, vibrant imagination to the fact that i spent so much of my childhood playing "pretend" all by myself. i was a very curious child. always a curious child, exploring and going on lonely adventures and doing experiments and reading books.

do i think i've changed a lot? not that much. i've gotten bigger and stronger. i used to be a small, scrawny little thing. i've also become a lot more confident/aggressive. as a child i was shy and timid. but for the most part i think i'm very similar. i'm look at my computer desk and my bookshelf and it looks much like my room looked as a child. i still have many of the same passions/interests, just deeper and more expanded. i'm still the strange one.

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findgaragestoragecabinets · 1 year

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How to Find the Best Garage Storage Cabinets

Garage storage cabinets are a great way to keep your tools organized. Not only do they keep your belongings safe and secure, but they also look good. They often come with a workbench, shelving, and multiple drawers for extra storage. Some even come with a door.

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Choosing the right cabinet for your garage can be a daunting task. But if you consider the above tips, you'll have a better chance of getting the most for your money. Remember, a well-made cabinet is worth its weight in gold, and the smart choice is to purchase a high-quality model.

The best way to decide which garage cabinets will fit your garage is to take measurements. Your measurements should include the dimensions of your storage container, as well as the area where you'd like to have the door opened.

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ladyreapermc · 3 years

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Fic: Closing Time (Johnny Utah x fem!reader)

Summary: You work at a clothing store, you get a last minute customer at closing time and sexy tims happen.

Pairing: Johnny Utah x fem!reader

Author’s Notes: So I’m slowly getting back to writing. I’m not gonna say I’m fully back just yet, but for this week at least, there will be content! Huge thanks to @toomanystoriessolittletime and @meetmeinthematinee for being cheerleaders and giving me early feedback on this!

Wordcount: 3125

Warnings: smut. oral sex (F! receiving); dirty talk; unprotected sex with strangers (don’t do this kids!); sex in inappropriate places.

Most days you quite enjoyed it when there was barely any movement at the store. It gave you the opportunity of just being by yourself, reading a book, or enjoying some music or studying for college, things that you didn’t always have the privacy of doing at your dorm because your roommate seemed to always be around. Even during the summer and what was up with that? Didn’t she have better things to do?

She wasn’t like you, who actually had to work to put yourself through college and took some extra jobs during the summer so you could have some savings for the following term when all you managed to get were part-time jobs that you had fit in between classes and paid shit.

Fortunately, at the shop, you had some peace and time for yourself. It was a tiny, hole-in-the-wall sort of place around Venice Beach where tourists could get some shirts and other knickknacks to take back home and locals surfers could find cheap clothing and supplies for a day out on the beach. Most days, you worked from 9-5 and after your shift, you could head to the beach, spread your towel on the sand and enjoy the gorgeous Californian sunset. However, as the summer winded out and the fall winds blew the scalding hot weather into simmering heat, your boss let you close a little early, especially on Tuesdays, when most tourists had already headed home and the new arrivals hadn’t landed yet so there were barely any customers around.

Your plan today had been to finish your reading for class and start the new crime thriller you picked up at the used books store on your way to work. Except, today you were just too restless to focus. You must have reread the same paragraph of your textbook twenty times before you gave up and set it aside, giving the other book a go, but it was just as unsuccessful at holding your attention.

So instead, you moved around the cramped space, adjusting the decoration items, dusting off shelves, and refolding every single shirt in the display until it was perfectly symmetrical while you willed time to move faster so you could end this day. Maybe it was the heatwave that had made an appearance turning the air in the shop stifling and all you had to help you was an old and slow fan that made more noise than blow air. The A/C was busted and your boss still hadn’t called someone to fix it.

Another possibility was the fact that you had to keep the glass doors opened to help circulate a little air and every time any kind of wind blew or someone walked in, it brought with them the crisp smell of salt and sand that always made you ache for the ocean and fight against the temptation of just abandoning everything and heading for the beach so you could cool off taking a dip in the deliciously cold water. Either way, you kept checking the slow ticking of the clock hands, counting the seconds before you could turn the closed sign.

When the minute hand finally hit twelve, you let out a cheer, jumping off your stool and taking a step towards the door. You always locked the doors first to discourage most last-minute walk-ins while you closed the register, put away the money in the back office safe, and slipped out of the store through the back door, taking any garbage with you to throw in the dumpster outside.

Before you could move from behind the counter, a man stepped into the store and you groaned low in your throat. Of-fucking-course! It was like they stood in wait to come in at the precise moment you were about to head out.

“Hey, you’re still open, right?” He asked, pushing the overgrown dark hair back from his forehead and offering you an unsure smile. You felt the urge to lie and say that no, you were closed and he should come back tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure.” You said instead placing your best and most fake seller’s smile. “Feel free to look around and let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks!” He replied, flashing a wider smile that showed a small dimple, before moving towards the shirts in the display while you made your way to the main entrance, flipped the sign, and locked the door to bar any other walk-ins.

You hung back while the guy browsed the options, taking a moment to assess him. He didn’t look like a tourist, but also not fully like a local. Most Californian guys that you knew had the most horrifying hair cuts or bleach jobs you had ever seen and that was not the case for the man in front of you.

His hair was dark brown, a little shaggy from too much exposure to sun and salt and it flopped a little over his forehead, just above his eyes. He wore a grey cropped t-shirt that had definitely seen better days and struggled to contain his broad shoulders, showing a peek of toned abs. His jeans were ridiculously tight and hung low on his slender hips, the light-wash of the denim accentuating the perfect bubble butt and for the love of God, you needed to get laid. Badly.

“Excuse me,” he called, startling you and you prayed he hadn’t noticed the way you were checking his ass just now. “Do you have this one in black?”

“Yeah, sure.” You moved towards the drawers. “What’s your usual size? Medium or large?”

“I think large should be good,” he replied and when you turned around with the requested shirt, he was just standing there, barechested, his top hanging from his shoulder and you hoped your gasp wasn’t as loud as it sounded in your head.

“Here you go,” you croaked, offering him the shirt. “We do have a fitting room…” you gestured towards the small cubicle to the rear of the store.

“Oh right!” He glanced over as he pulled the shirt on. “Do you mind if I try them out here, though?”

“Not at all,” you forced your voice to sound somewhat normal.

“Awesome!”

Damn! He wasn’t just fucking hot. He was also cute, the wide grin he just flashed giving him a boyish look that was only enhanced by the almond-shaped chocolate-colored eyes. Biting your lip, you watched as he turned side to side in front of the mirror, checking himself out.

“It think is a little too big,” he said, meeting your gaze. “What do you think?”

“Well…” you cleared your throat and moved closer so you could look at him through the mirror. “If you want it more fitted, then yeah, probably a smaller size would be best. Want me to get it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Once again, by the time you turned back to him, he was shirtless, the garment he had just tried neatly folded and resting on the shelf as he took a look at some other shirts, his attention snapping at you when he noticed you coming closer to hand him the new shirt, giving you a glimpse of a pale, sunken scar running down his abs that stopped just above his belly button and that drew attention to the small trail of fine dark hairs that disappeared under the waist of his jeans and holy shit! He was bare beneath those jeans.

“Bike accident,” he commented as he took the shirt that you offered and you met his eyes in confusion.

“What?” You asked, mouth suddenly dry.

“The scar,” he clarified, putting on the shirt and his lips were tilted into a slight smirk. “That was what you were staring at, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, feeling your face burning. “I’ll just head to the register and give you some privacy.”

I don’t mind,” he shrugged, turning to the mirror. “This is better. What do you think?” He turned towards you, giving you a full view of the cotton fabric covering his muscles, looking almost as if painted on him.

“Sure...” you swallowed hard, trying not to stare. “If you prefer it more fitted...”

“I do,” pulling the shirt off and once again giving you the glorious view of his torso. “I’ll take it.”

You took the shirt to the register and he followed, pausing only to pick up his own, which he had discarded on a nearby hanger. You were expecting him to put it back on, but he just threw it over his shoulder, reaching for his wallet as you registered the sale and tried not to stare.

“Is that the only camera you have around here?” He asked, gesturing to a point above your left and you glanced at the object before nodding, exchanging the money he gave you for the paper bag with his purchase.

“Yeah, why?”

“So basically...” he started, taking a step to the side, closer to the fitting room. “I’m completely out of sight over here?”

“Basically, yeah,” you frowned a little, stepping away from the counter. “Why? Are you planning to rob the place? Because let me tell you, there’s not much worth...” You trailed off with a surprised squeak as he tugged on your hand, pulling you over to the blindspot and nearly pressed against his strong chest.

“Because honestly, I never really gave a fuck about the shirt. I just thought you were beautiful and wanted to ask your number when I walked in, but you looked kind pissed so I got cold feet,” he confessed with a rueful smile.

“So you decided to just get mostly naked in front of me?” You snorted, shaking your head and he shrugged.

“Needed to make sure you might be interested and considering the way you were eyeing me earlier, it looked like you saw something you liked.”

“You’re really sure of yourself, aren’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at him, not ready to concede just yet. Even if the heat of his body and the smell of sea breeze whiffing off his skin were driving you crazy.

“Only when I’m right,” he flashed you a lopsided smirk and just waited, gazing into your eyes, making it clear that the next step was yours.

Part of you screamed that it was crazy to even consider hooking up with a guy that just walked into your store, no matter how hot he was, but it had been a ridiculously long time since you last had sex and he was so fucking hot, the scent of his golden skin intoxicating and his heat was making you dizzy with want as you looked him up and down, noticing the volume pressing against the denim of his pants.

“We might not have cameras, but the windows are see-through, so get your ass to the fitting room while I finish closing up.”

He flashed a victorious smirk and nodded, heading towards the back while you rushed through the steps of securing the store before joining him.

Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you made your way towards the back, pushing away the curtain that blocked the small space of the fitting room and finding him perched on the low stool that you kept there so customers could put down their things, facing the full-length mirror, legs spread, jeans undone, revealing the bush of dark hairs surrounding his long and thick cock.

You nearly whimpered at the sight, your center pulsing in want as you leaned against the doorframe, watching him as he run his left hand up and down his shaft, head tilted back, breathing hard, eyes hooded. He was such a beautiful and debauched sight that you felt the urge to photograph him, capture that sensuality.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch?” He asked, eyes meeting yours through the reflective surface.

“You seemed to be doing fine on your own,” you teased stepping into the tight space, fingers itching to touch all that glorious skin.

“I did not just spend most of my afternoon at the corner diner, drinking burned coffee just to jerk off in front of you,” he declared, standing up and turning your way.

“Ohhh, so this was premeditated?” You asked, kicking off your sneakers as he reached for you and you stumbled against his chest.

“A little bit, yeah,” he admitted, large hand hot against your hips and you wanted to feel it against your flesh. “You probably don’t remember, but I was here last week and you had to bend over to get something from one of the lower drawers...” he let out a soft groan, hands moving to your ass and squeezing lightly. “Fuck! I don’t think I ever popped a boner so fast in my life. I had to get out.”

You vaguely remembered that. There was so much coming and going in this place, it was hard to keep track of faces, but customers just taking off after asking to see something usually caused an impression. If you weren’t about to get fucked after six months, you would be more pissed.

“So you decided to come back when I was alone and seduce me?” you asked, running your hands over his chest and abs, scratching it slightly and goosebumps rose in his skin as he hissed.

“Yeah,” he spoke in a low voice as his hands move to the button of your jeans. “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he slid your fly down and your breath caught in your throat. “I thought about bending you over that counter and fucking you until you’re screaming.” His fingers skimmed over your cunt, just a soft touch, but you gasped and arched your hips forward, holding onto his arms to steady yourself. “I thought about it eating your pussy and your ass until you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Those words were whispered right against your ear, before he changed your positions, crowding you against the mirror and pushing your jeans down to your thighs before he once against skimmed his fingers over covered sex, making you ache for him.

“What do you think about that?” He asked, lips brushing your cheek in an almost chaste kiss, completely opposed to the lewdness of his hand exploring your cunt. “Do you want it?”

“If you’re as good with your tongue at eating pussy like you are at talking dirty, then I maybe I do,” you declared, tired of his teasing and you felt his smirk as he gracefully slid to his knees in front of you.

You didn’t manage to get another word out before he shoved your panties down to join your jeans and his lips firmly connected to your clit. He gave it a sharp suck and you groaned, burying your fingers into his hair to keep yourself on your feet as your brain short-circuited and your knees turned to jelly.

He was very good at eating you out, especially because he was very attentive to every sound you made, every tightening of your grip on his hair, and roll of your hips to nudge him into going faster or slower, harder or softer... It wasn’t long before he reached that perfect alternation of fast flickering against your clit and slower and broad strokes of his tongue over your entrance and lips, a combination that drove you crazy.

You were whimpering and moaning, legs quaking with the alternating urge to close them around his face to keep him trapped there pleasuring you forever or spreading them wider so he could have more space to work, but the edges of your jeans were digging into the lower part of your knees, signaling you that that was as far as they could go.

As if reading your thoughts or maybe he just realized he would need more room, he shoved your pants down and helped you to kick them off so you could be completely free of the garment. And didn’t you two looked like a mismatched pair, with you standing there wearing only your top while he knelt in front of you, his jeans still on.

Once your pants were off, he hooked your right thigh over his shoulder, pressing his mouth even harder against your cunt, flickering his tongue over your clit before dipping it in between your lips, gathering the juices soaking your sex like a starved man.

“Fuck! I’m so close...” you hissed, rolling your hips, seeking more because that tight knot deep inside you was about to snap and from the way you ached and shuddered, your muscles tensing, you knew it would be a hard one.

“Yeah?” He mumbled against your core, his breath against your overheated skin making you shiver as he pushed two fingers inside you. “Gonna cum all over my mouth?”

He pistoled his fingers in and out at a fast pace, crooking inwards with every down motion, his tongue matching his rhythm against your clit and it was that made you snap as you bit down on your fist to stop yourself from shouting as your body was flooded with pleasure and all you knew was the unbelievable bliss that surrounded you. Stars bust behind your closed lids, the air came out of your lungs in short gushes as you fought hard not to slide down to the ground because your legs felt like jelly.

“Ok?” he asked, making you finally snap your eyes open to look at him.

He was sitting on his heels, face still glistening with your orgasm, his lips swollen and red from the abuse. His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking and you really wanted to return the favor.

“Way better than ok,” you replied with a gasp. “My turn?” To your surprise, he shook his head and got to his feet.

“Tonight, the only place I’m cumming is in that pussy,” he announced against your ear and shivered with anticipation. “So let’s get out of this fucking store and go to my place?”

“Fuck yes!” you grinned breathlessly at him as you reached for your jeans and he buttoned his over his hard cock and that couldn’t be comfortable.

“I’m Johnny, by the way,” he said. “Johnny Utah. Just in case you want to know what to shout when I fuck your brains out later.”

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky smirk and moved closer to him, once fully clothed, the only evidence of your recent climax was the sweat cooling on your skin and the stupid grin that refused to leave your face.

“I think I like you more when your mouth is busy with something other than talking,” you declared and before Johnny could manage a reply, you silenced him with a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue.

xxx

If you enjoyed this work, please consider reblogging and/or commenting please. Feedback gives life to us writers!

#johnny utah x reader #johnny utah x you #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #point break fanfic #fanfic

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doveypink · 3 years

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come and find me [technoblade imagine]

summary: techno faces the consequences of your death. word count: 5.4k warnings: mentions of death, violence. a/n: this is a sequel to the one i left behind; read that first![ tag list: @shu5h @sylum @zefrenchturtle ]

Time is a tricky thing. It is insistent, always rushing forward without fail and unforgiving to those swept away in its tide. On occasion, though, time is a gentle monster; it takes you in its arms and kisses your head, lays you gently in the waves, and carries you to shore.

Time was not so kind to Technoblade.

Following the death of his friend, the archer, time became his enemy. Each day thereafter was a living hell full of tsunamis and stormy seas that bellowed within. The voices in his head used to sound like a low hum, the soft slap of waves in the back of his mind. Now, they were as loud as ever; if he didn’t catch himself in time, Techno would be overcome by the crashing waves and the tumultuous ocean inside his head.

“You have that look again,” Phil said softly from across the room. Techno’s eyes jumped to meet Phil’s, no longer burning holes into the wooden planks of the floor.

“You keep saying that like I know what it means,” Techno griped, instantly feeling sorry at the sight of Phil’s frown. The older man sighed and stepped towards his friend, taking a seat next to him.

“I know it’s difficult right now. That’s an understatement, clearly, but you saw what happened with Wilbur and I,” Phil explained, a cloudy look in his eyes. “It’s not easy to be asked to do something like that. All we can do is hope that it was for the best and carry on.”

The voices swarmed more powerfully in Techno’s head. He knew it was wrong to feel so angry at Phil for trying to comfort him, but it didn’t seem fair. Wilbur was Phil’s son, yes, but their bond was nothing like the one Techno had with his friend. The rage, the emptiness, the carelessness that Technoblade was experiencing reached heights that no person could begin to understand. The pain was his alone to carry.

Phil took note of Techno’s silence and gave his arm a gentle pat. “I’m here if you ever need anything,” he said. The man stood and padded out of the room to leave Techno on his own, his gaze turned back to the wooden planks.

Techno often wondered about you at times like this, when he found himself boiling in his own rage without someone to level him. Funnily enough, you weren’t much different from him in your anger; you would grit your teeth and quietly stare at some spot in the corner or keep your hands busy with anything you could find until you would tire yourself out. He wished he could see you now or hear your voice to remind him to calm down. He knew you were still around as a ghost, but your presence didn’t ease him as it once did. Nowadays, the thought of you only filled him with guilt, and his heart felt hollow without you around. It was hard to even look you in the eyes anymore.

“Techno?”

As if summoned by his own thoughts, you appeared in the window of the cabin. Your hands were cupped against the glass as you peered in comically, your eyes squinted as you struggled to see through the foggy glass. Techno glanced at you and sighed, rising from his chair to let you in; he tried ignoring you once, but it resulted in you attempting to climb through his window, so he always welcomed you in. Technoblade swung the door open and you jumped into view, cheerful as ever.

“Techno! I’ve been looking for you!”

“Looking for me?” the man wondered, crossing his arms. “I’m always here.”

“I know, I just got a little lost again,” you said sheepishly, wringing your hands. Techno stepped aside to let you in, foolishly wondering for a moment if he should let you borrow his cloak to keep warm. It would change nothing, of course; you were a ghost, the cold didn’t bother you. It was funny in some awful, convoluted way how often Techno forgot that you were dead. As a ghost, you would come and go at random, yet your presence hung over him like storm clouds. You were everywhere, bouncing around behind his eyes and throughout the cabin: all the books on the shelves you never read, the letters with your handwriting strewn across the desk, the scratches in the floorboards from when you dragged your chair. They were reminders of you, as if he could possibly forget.

“Don’t you have the compass Phil gave you?” Techno asked, referring to an enchanted compass which directed you to the cabin. Phil had given it to you during your last visit, much to Techno’s disapproval; he hated seeing you like this. It’s like you were a new person entirely, a stranger that wore your skin, but your soul had been exchanged for something else. He wasn’t sure who you were anymore, and every voice in his head argued that this was his own fault.

“I gave it to Ranboo,” you replied, fiddling with your sleeve. “He needs it more than I do, doesn’t he?”

“It was a gift for you,” Techno griped. “You can’t just give it away. Who knows what people could do if they had a direct line to us? Too many know where we are as it is.”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind. Ranboo basically lives here now.”

“Well, you were wrong.” Despite the warmth of the cabin, a chill seemed to run through the room as Techno stared coldly at his friend. He wasn’t sure why this angered him so much; realistically, he knew that what you had done was a smart idea. Ranboo lived just nearby Techno and Phil’s cabin, and with his memory issues, it wasn’t safe for him to wander aimlessly through the cold. Still, something about the way you could give such a tool away hurt him more than he cared to admit. He didn’t even want you around—he could hardly stand having to look at your ashen skin, and hearing your voice made his heart shake with grief—so why did he care?

You frowned, taking a small step forward to place a hand on your friend’s shoulder. Techno flinched at the contact, alarmed by the deadly cold that seeped through his cape. Up close, you could feel it: Techno was alive, yet the dark chill of death seemed to bound itself to him like a shadow. This was your influence; the bitterness that you rarely saw in him during your living days was an arrow, and you were its target.

“I know you don’t want me here. I can see it,” you said. Techno’s eyes widened slightly as you continued. “You look at me like—like I’m a stranger, but you’re searching for someone else. I know you can’t help it and neither can I, but I want to be that person so bad. I want to be what I’m supposed to be, but I don’t know how. I just miss feeling normal. I miss you.”

Techno swallowed thickly, averting his eyes. “I don’t think I can help you,” he admitted, taking a step towards the cabin door. He felt the cold air press against the wood and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “Whatever reassurance you need, I can’t give that to you. And you can’t come here haunting the place until I do, either. I don’t need ghosts.”

“But you… You’ll still let me visit, won’t you?” You asked quietly.

The man seemed taken aback by your question. He seemed to consider it for a moment before responding, his voice not quite as frostbitten as moments earlier: “You can always visit.”

It was strange how suddenly Techno seemed like himself again. The winter froze him over, encasing all the warmth you could recall from when you were alive, but now the ice shuddered and cracked. The guilt that he had grown accustomed to merged with a longing he had been afraid to feel; he missed you, he missed every second that you weren’t around, and he hated himself for it. It was a selfish thought to want you here when he was the one who tore you away from the life you once clung to. It was selfish to want something good when all he seemed to do was snuff out any glimpse of light that came his way.

You smiled, albeit dolefully, and glanced around the room. You noticed a sheen of silver hanging on the wall and, propped against the wall, was a quiver of arrows—the same weapon you had found in the rubble of L’Manburg. The item you had once cherished no longer served a purpose to you, so you gifted them to Technoblade on your first visit postmortem. It surprised you that he accepted the gift in the first place, given that he seemed completely unnerved with your presence, so it was odd to see it displayed on the wall where all could see. It reminded you of an urn, a tangible indication of someone lost.

You weren’t sure how you felt by the sight of the item; were you meant to be flattered? Offended? The experiences that followed your death were far more puzzling than the ones you had in your life. When you were alive, you developed how to think and feel through socializing—your life was nurtured, guided along by those you met. In death, however, you were isolated. Techno already said it: he didn’t need ghosts, no one did. No living person wanted to face the dead because they were busy with the troubles of their lives, and rightfully so. Still, it was lonely to be dead. There was nothing that could teach you how to live in shadow, nobody to hold your hand and tell you that you would be alright. Death stole you right when you thought you would have survived to see the day, made a fool by hope, and your only friend was left to see the sun rise without you. This was it, this was the cruel joke nature played on the wanderers of the earth: to live and watch those you love die, or to die and watch those you love live.

Your gaze was pulled from the sharp curve of steel and you headed to the door. “I should leave you, now. I didn’t mean to…” Uncertainty crossed your features and you gestured your hands through the air to fill in the blank.

Techno seemed to understand, nodding as he reached to open the door for you. It was a quiet goodbye as you slipped into the snow, only turning back to wave at your friend as his cabin shrank in your view. The man stood in the doorway until you were a speck in the distance, a stir in his heart which rushed through him like a cold breeze. You would return.

* * * * *

“What do you know about necromancy, Phil?”

The older man looked up from his book. His eyes narrowed at his pink friend and held a look of disapproval. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

Techno frowned, crossing his arms. “What? I barely said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Phil sighed, snapping his book shut. “It’s not a good idea to bring them back, especially if they haven’t told you that they want to come back. You don’t know what it could do.”

“But you do. You can help.”

“I don’t want to help. And besides, the methods I’ve tried haven’t been successful, I know from the attempts with Wilbur. It didn’t change anything. You have to give this a rest, it's been weeks since you slept.”

“Well you’ve done more research, haven’t you?” Techno took a seat across from Phil and leaned in. “There’s gotta be something you didn’t try or somebody who knows enough.”

Phil hesitated and looked down at his hands. “I don’t want you to do this, but… You could speak with Dream.”

The younger man stiffened, trying to mask his displeasure. “What for?”

“I heard that he was doing research of his own. I don’t know what his method is or if it even works, but I don’t trust it. He wants to make himself a god, so it can’t be without its consequences.”

“Godship always comes with consequences. I’ll take my chances.”

“Are you really prepared for that?” Phil looked his friend in the eyes. “It’s too much of a risk to try—”

“I know that,” Techno snapped, rising from his chair. “And I know what I want. I want them back. I want Dream to be sorry that he ever hurt them. I want to—” Techno stopped himself from continuing his enraged rant. He wanted to feel whole again, he thought. He wanted to wake up and feel safe knowing you were in the next room over. He wanted to argue with you over nothing and know that you would forgive him nonetheless. He wanted to wake up early after a long day of travel and watch the sunrise with you, to see the whole world light up in your eyes. The emptiness he was stranded with was from your absence, he knew this now. You were the sun to his moon, but you were forever hidden under the horizon, casting him into the shade.

Phil’s frown deepened. He spoke softly, carefully. “I know you’re hurting, but you need to think this through. Is this really what you want?”

Techno refused to meet the older man’s gaze. You were gone because of him, and you would come back for him. He wasn’t going to let this go quietly. “Yes,” he said finally. The icy air whipped through the house as he opened the cabin door and slammed it shut, a mission in his mind.

* * * * *

The journey to the prison was an expectedly silent one. Few people were to be seen as Technoblade wandered through the country—whether out of fear for the man or some other reason, he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, he trudged down the paths he used to know, eventually coming upon the evil-looking building. The massive walls loomed over him, the shadows stretching across the grass in sharp lines. After taking a quick glance of the perimeter, Techno proceeded to the entrance of the prison.

Upon entering, he was faced with a portal and a switch off to his right. The man glanced around once before slapping the button, waiting for a guard to come by. There was a brief period of silence, then a disembodied voice: “Hello?”

“Hello,” Techno echoed, unsure of where to look. “How do I, uh, get in?”

“Just step through the portal and I’ll get to you in a second,” the guard replied. Techno followed his instructions and stepped in the portal, a feeling like water rippling against his skin. Techno emerged from the other side to see a desk and a podium in front of it with a large book sat upon it. Behind the counter of the desk was the prison guard, Sam.

“Hello, Technoblade. Step up to the podium, I’ll need you to read that book aloud to me and sign, then I have to ask you a few questions.”

The piglin stood directly in front of the podium, peering down at the book. He read out the protocols, frowning at the mention of being locked in the prison should the security be threatened. Techno signed his name on the book anyway, handing it to the guard.

“Thank you. Can I ask when you last visited the prison?”

“Never,” Techno replied. “Shouldn’t that be obvious?”

“It’s just an extra security measure,” Sam explained. “Some of our visitors may have a lapse in memory. Now, what’s your relationship with the prisoner?”

The other man considered the question for a moment until he settled on a suitable answer. “Ex-colleague.”

“Alright, and where is your place of residence?”

“Up north, in the arctic.”

“Good, good. Follow me to your locker, I’ll need you to place everything inside the chest. Once you’re done, press that button on the side to get the key.”

Techno followed the guard’s instructions, feeling slightly uneasy with the lack of protection in his inventory. He retrieved the key, feeling the weight of the metal in his palm, then deposited it into an ender chest. The guard was waiting patiently outside the locker room. “Follow me and do exactly as I say,” he ordered, leading Techno through the prison.

Sam guided Techno through a series of security checks and exercises to minimize his strength through potions. The piglin felt slightly lightheaded from the various trials and journeys through halls full of water and lava. Eventually, the pair of men reached the entrance of the maximum security cell, which looked empty save for the switches on the far wall.

“Stand on that platform right there,” Sam instructed, gesturing towards a number of tiles placed before a large screen of lava. Techno stepped onto the tiles, glancing over his shoulder to watch the guard fiddle with the controls. “The lava will stop in a minute or two. Just stay where you are and be careful when the platform moves,” Sam warned, keeping a firm gaze on the piglin.

Techno grunted a reply, waiting patiently until the barrier of lava parted like a curtain before a play. Between the bright orange drapery, he saw Dream come into view. The prisoner stood silently in the corner of his cell, his dull green eyes bearing a blank expression. There was a pink scar across the bridge of his nose, one Techno realized he received from you. His blond hair was long and unkept, a shadow of stubble on his chin—a blatant difference from the composed appearance he once possessed.

The platform shifted forward, rolling Techno straight towards the cell. A barricade stretched between the walls and the visitor crossed his arms in waiting. Finally, the space between the men opened, and the piglin took a step into the cell. Behind him, the wall of lava fell again, trapping the pair within the confines of the obsidian.

The prisoner inched forward from the corner. “I was beginning to think you’d never visit,” Dream said.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” the pig-man replied, glancing around at the mostly-bare walls of the cell. There was a clock on the wall set to the wrong time, a cauldron of water, and a desk with writing utensils in the corner. No other possessions decorated the cell.

“Hm. What made you change your mind?”

Techno’s eyes met the prisoner. “I need your help.”

Dream chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “The blood god needs my help? With what, may I ask?”

“I know what you can do,” Techno stated, drawing closer to the prisoner. “I know you can raise people from the dead.”

The blond man scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So that’s what you want? You need me to bring back your friend?”

“Exactly. And you’ll do it.”

Dream hummed, considering the other man’s words before he finally responded. “No, I don’t think I will.” Dream leaned against the wall, looking bored. “You have nothing for me. And besides, I’m not sure you’re prepared to bring back the archer. It’d be pointless.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Techno growled, annoyed with the prisoner’s lack of cooperation. “You know I’m a dedicated man.”

“And that’s exactly why you can’t bring them back. You don’t have the guts to do it.”

Techno rushed forward and grabbed Dream by the collar, teeth bared as he glared at the man. “Careful there, Dream. You don’t want to provoke your ticket out of here.”

Dream laughed unflinchingly in the god’s face. “Right, and what can you do? Kill me and lose your only chance to have them back? You’re not an idiot, and neither am I. We both know exactly how this would go down if you set me free.”

“I wouldn’t kill you, but I can easily make you regret living,” Techno spat, gritting his teeth. “You’re going to bring them back.”

“No,” Dream scoffed, seemingly unfazed by the other man’s threats. “You think you know exactly what you want, don’t you? I’m not sure you understand how traumatic it would be for them to come back, Techno. Don’t you get it? They’d wake up and feel disgusted by you. You killed them. You could have saved them, but you were too weak to even try. Besides,” he continued, lowering his voice, “I think they look much better rotting in the dirt.”

Techno shoves the prisoner against the wall, chest heaving with anger and guilt. The voices were like white noise in his mind, screeching for blood as his heart pounded. Dream slid to the floor and laughed maniacally; the sound made Techno’s head pound with the dull pain of an oncoming headache. There was no mask to hide the deranged look in the prisoner’s eyes as he held his stomach and howled with cruel pleasure. “They’re dead,” Dream gasped between laughter. “They’re dead and it’s all your fault!”

It was a mistake to have gone to the prison for answers, and Techno felt foolish for his actions as he called for Sam to let him out. Dream remained slumped against the wall, his shoulders shaking with an awful cackle that faded as Techno disappeared from the cell.

Technoblade could hardly recall the journey back to his cabin. Once he was out of the prison, he bounded through the war torn country, red hot fury searing in his veins. The voices wanted blood; they screeched and clamored inside the cage of his skull, raging into white noise that struck Techno like an arrow to the heart. Flashes of memories he had tried to suppress came rushing back—the crack of fireworks resounding in his ears. The smell of burnt flesh. Blood staining him from head to toe. He stumbled through the hills and snow, clamoring up the short set of stairs and through the cabin door. His head was pounding so awfully that the man became nauseous, collapsing to his knees as he dug his fingers into his scalp. It wasn’t until a hand came to rest on his shoulder that Techno finally managed to look up. His eyes burned and, with a start, he realized that he had been crying.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, mate. I’ve got you. You’re okay, take a deep breath,” Phil assured him, a firm grip stabilizing his piglin friend. Technoblade took in short, stuttering breaths, before Phil patted his shoulder and told him to take it easy. He made another attempt, inhaling slowly, then exhaling, repeating the motion until he was calm enough to speak.

“He won’t do it. He doesn’t want me to—He won’t.” Despite how hard he tried, Techno couldn’t stop the tremor in his voice. He hated this, he hated the vulnerability of it all. There was no space in his heart for the amount of pain he had been suppressing, and it was finally overflowing. He wished you were here. He wished so badly that he wasn’t such a fool.

Phil, conscious of his friend’s needs, pulled his hand away. “You know, someone was hoping to see you today.”

Techno looked up, watching Phil move aside to bring you into his line of sight. He hadn’t even noticed you were there in the midst of his agony, but the cold followed you as you drew closer. You were silent until you knelt down, reaching a hand out to your friend. “Come with me?” You asked gently, giving him a chance to refuse.

Techno looked down at your outstretched hand, examining the creases in your ashen skin. After a moment of consideration, he took it, hyper aware of your freezing touch. You led your friend out of the cabin, carefully guiding him to a destination you had yet to announce. Techno was curious as to what you were up to, but he didn’t have the energy to speak, especially not to you. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to apologize to you, to tell you how sorry he was for what he did to you, for the eternity you had been stranded with. There weren’t enough words in the world to admit how sorry he really was.

The pair of you traveled away from the cabin, through a forest of evergreens blanketed in snow; you walked past white foxes scurrying between bushes and birds fluttering overhead; you hopped over fallen trees and climbed a hill, finally stopping once you reached its peak. “We’re here,” you announced.

Techno stood at your side and admired the view: the sun was beginning to fall, clinging to the horizon. The entire land was bathed in golden hues, causing the snow to sparkle in the warm glow. With this light, your skin seemed to regain its warmth, a refreshing contrast to the ashen look of death which Techno had grown used to. He watched you gaze wordlessly at the sky before breaking the silence. “Why are we here?”

You admired the sight for a moment longer, then, gesturing for Techno to copy your motions, you took a seat in the snow. “Do you remember how we met?” you began.

Techno was surprised by your question, answering quietly. “Of course. I, uh, kidnapped you. Sorry for that,” he mumbled.

Letting out a soft laugh, you continued. “Right. But I’ve been remembering more, actually. It used to be fuzzy—it still is, sometimes, the details—but it’s easier to recall. I mainly remember the good things, but the gaps are starting to fill in.”

The man swallowed nervously. “So… Where are you going with this?”

Your eyes became downcast. “I’ve realized a lot of things. I can sort through my emotions now and it’s been weighing on me just how much you meant to me, how much you still mean to me—and I know you must feel the same way.

“I can remember so much of my life now. I remember feeling some bit of relief when you captured me because I didn’t have to be with Dream—I was free for the first time in my life, and I didn’t even know it. I remember the training, the battles, the betrayals, the exile, but more than anything, I remember you. It’s like a part of me was missing for so long before I met you, and I had grown used to it. I tried to fill it with other things, with other people, but that space was made for you. Once I had you, I was balanced—I had spent the first half of my life trying to find you, so I couldn’t stand to be away from you. I had to have you, always, filling the gap. It seemed wrong to live any other way.

“I can see now where the fault was in my logic. You told me the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, right? A pair of lovers are separated when Eurydice dies, stranded to the Underworld. Orpheus travels to her and all he has to do to bring her back to the living realm is to walk the path to earth without looking behind him to see her. They reach the end, and at the last second, Orpheus looks back. His love is fated to death, and he must live on without her, singing a sorrowful tune to the earth. When I first heard that story, I couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing. I thought it was from a sense of doubt, or maybe he was just a fool, but now I know better. Orpheus wasn’t looking back because he was doubtful—he knew exactly what the consequences were. He looked back because he couldn’t accept her death once, but this time, he could do it. That’s the hidden truth that no one ever tells you: love is letting go.”

You turned your head to look Techno in the eyes. “Do you remember what I told you before I tried to kill Dream?”

The man nodded slowly. “You told me not to look back,” he breathed.

Nodding, you spoke again. “Exactly. Now, I need you to listen to me again,” you asked. “I need you to look back.”

Techno’s eyes became misty. “I don’t—I don’t think I know how,” he admitted.

“Neither did Orpheus,” you explained, taking the larger man’s hands in yours. “He lived the rest of his life mourning Eurydice through his music, but look at the world now. Don’t you see how beautiful it is? He sacrificed everything to see this. Orpheus did the hardest thing he could possibly do because it was the right thing.”

“What about the gaps?” Techno wondered. “How am I supposed to fill the gap without you?”

Looking down at the calloused hands in yours, you shook your head. “There’s always going to be pieces of you that can never be replaced—they’re not meant to be filled with something else. But there will be other things to love, other things to care about, and that’s how you move on. You pick up what’s left of your heart and put it back together as you go.”

The man looked at you, sorrow and adoration pooling in his eyes. “Will you stay? Will you be there when I carry myself back?” He asked, his voice small and trembling with apprehension.

Your cold hands were firm in his. “Always.”

In the west, the sun sank lower over the edge of the earth. The light grew fainter as orange, magenta, and hints of violet eased their way into the sky above. Clouds stretched on lazily, dragging against the atmosphere like heavy brush strokes on a canvas. Techno tugged on your hand when you got lost in the view. “We should head back before it gets too dark,” he said. You nodded and followed him through the snow, guided by the tracks you left from earlier. It would take him time, you were sure of that, and he would struggle as he always did when it came to his feelings. And you would be by his side, even then.

* * * * *

“I’m thinking of making it bigger, maybe add some glass panes to the top. What do you think?” Ranboo wondered, showing you the plans for his new house.

“Hm… No glass, just the stone here and there,” you replied, pointing at the drawings he laid out in front of you.

Ranboo was still living near Techno, sprucing up his old shed of a house into something more permanent. The tall boy stood proudly in front of his land, tugging at his coat. “Yeah, actually, that does sound nice.”

You knelt down behind Ranboo, scooping a handful of snow into your palm and carefully shaping it into a ball. “You know what else is nice?” You wondered innocently.

Ranboo responded absentmindedly with “Huh?”

With an evil grin, you shouted, “This!”

The snowball launched out of your hand as you threw it directly at the back of the half-enderman’s head. Ranboo jumped, shrieking in surprise as he wiped the back of his head. Spinning on his heel, he gave you a mischievous look before gathering snow in his own hands. “Oh, you’ve done it now,” he drawled, narrowly missing you as the snowball flew past your head. You took off into a run, laughing with your tall friend chasing behind you, snow flying left and right as you battled.

From his porch, Techno stood and watched the pair of you playing around, a faint smile on his face. He could see it now, more clearly than ever before: life, all around you, even in death. It was a strange irony, but an honest one. You were different than the person he once knew, but despite everything, your laugh never changed. Every version of you was real and true—you had simply taken a different shape.

The piglin turned to head back inside, but not before pausing as a spark of red caught his sight. There, standing alone at the corner of the stairs, was a bright red carnation. How it managed to grow in the cold, and so close to the cabin, was a mystery. Still, it was a rare beauty, strong in spite of the world it was born into. Techno looked from the flower back to you, an echo in his heart. You would be there—always.

The cabin door shut behind him, and there was no cold to follow.

#technoblade imagine #technoblade x reader #c: technoblade #dove writes #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #mcyt techno #mcytblr #techno imagine #techno x reader #c!techno x reader #c!techno imagine

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 3 years

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pt.1: the swapping begins

-> 4-fking-am masterlist <-

b:katsuki / f.reader

genre: neighbor au, pro-hero bakugou

warning(s)!!: bakugou's potty mouth (ofc)

status: on-going!

synopsis: you had just moved into your new apartment and like every other college student under the sun, you had the worst sleep scheudle known to man. due to this, you find yourself playing music through your speakers at 4 am. your neighbor slides you a note under your door about your ‘shitty’ taste in music, thus the note swaps begin.

a/n: the first part has arrived! hopefully, updates on this particular series won't be so drawn out since i'm planning to keep all written parts on the shorter side along with the smau parts being just easier since it's all just dialog LOL (ive done smau in the past for other things but they weren't so hot but hopefully i'm better now lol rip)

-x-x-x-

w.count: 1.3k

-x-x-x-

Why did you decide to go back to school to pursue further education again? If it wasn’t to stress yourself into early grey hairs or to rip out those grey hairs until you were bald, then why?

Collapsing over your desk- textbook open and notes out in messy piles with doodles across every edge and corner from wandering concentration- you groan. Exams were right around the corner, but you couldn’t for the life of you get your brain to focus on one thing- much less multiple things- for more than a couple hours, so studying quickly turned into a failed attempt to study.

Normally, studying wasn’t so difficult for you and you actually found it therapeutic in its own weird way. You enjoyed learning new things and the pride and wholeness you felt after succeeding to teach yourself something new was well worth whatever the process to get there was to you. But, this current college burnout was making all those end results hard to get to.

You glanced at the clock on one of the elevated shelves of your desk, the dimly glowing orange letters showing the time of 3:54 am. You groaned again, pushing your forehead into your written words and definitely smearing pencil lead on your forehead while you were at it. Maybe you’d soak up the words this way and have the knowledge transferred automatically into your brain if you pushed just hard enough.

Another dull and unrelenting amount of minutes pass you by before you officially call it quits for the night. Giving up, you walked to the other side of the room and plopped down on your bed’s edge next to one of your nightstands, your wrist rubbing your forehead to hopefully clear away the mess of leftover lead on it. On this nightstand was your radio and beneath it along the shelves and below the drawer was a collection of CDs.

In a world where albums were digital and everything was Bluetooth compatible and no one carried around a portable CD player anymore, you felt somewhat awkward sometimes at the seemingly large and ridiculous collection of yours. There were still plenty of people with CDs and even vinyls, but still- the awkwardness of your ‘retro’ thinking at your age did make you feel a bit self-conscious; no matter how idiotic it sounded.

You leaned over the bed and down to the bottom shelf cubby and grabbed a thin, plastic album case. Popping it open, the cheap plastic threatened to break and bend as you pushed open the top of your radio and placed the CD inside, shutting it again and turning it on.

A small little baby blue boombox that resembled a sort of bubble-like structure- a late birthday gift from your friends back in your hometown.

You figured if you didn’t absolutely blast your music, it would be fine to play aloud. Plus, you decided to put your bedroom in the backmost room, and the second room closer to the front room of your apartment was used for storage- since renting a storage unit was way too expensive. In your mind, the room closet to the door for a single living tenant would definitely be their bedroom- so you did the opposite when you moved in.

With your legs still handing off the side of the bed, you threw yourself back onto the mattress with your arms out to your sides. You stared at the ceiling of your room, thinking that at some point you’d need to purchase some cheap glow-in-the-dark stars to tack up there just for nostalgia’s sake.

As you heard the radio read the CD in small hums, you shut your eyes and smiled when the first track started. To be honest, you weren’t really pressed for what music you were going to be listening to, so you just kinda pulled from your cubby and popped the CD in without even looking at what you grabbed. You almost laughed when an older album your mom used to listen to started playing.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened or when, but the next thing you knew, you were staring blankly and tiredly up to your ceiling again. The sun outside had risen and you heard birds, outside chatter, and basic roadside living outside. Even being up on the fourth floor, you could still hear the world below fairly well since you almost always had your window open with a fan inside of it.

Your body was sore from how you were laying on your back with your arms out, and you felt stiff. Legs partially numb from hanging off the bed all morning when you turned to look at your clock on the desk with squinted eyes.

Almost noon.

“God,” you moaned, forcing yourself up and wobbly making a path out of your room and into the kitchen to solve the problem of your severe cottonmouth. Stepping out of your narrow, short hall, you yawned and stopped before stepping into the kitchen when you saw a note at your doorstep. It had been slid under the front door and was face down, small blotches of black bled through to show that the other side had something written on it in marker.

More intrigued with the mysterious note than ready to deal with your dry mouth and throat that demanded water, you trotted to the paper and flicked it up. Your eyes quickly scanned the note and you gasped, slightly slapping a hand over your mouth.

‘Your taste in music really fuckin’ sucks’

Oh my god, someone heard that? Were you too loud? Was it annoying? Who in their right mind has the further room from the door other than you who did it on purpose so that this situation could be specifically avoided? Would you need to move rooms? No, then you’d have your other neighbors slipping you notes or even knocking on your door.

Maybe this neighbor has a roommate and had no choice but to take the room furthest from the door. Would you need to move out now before you died from overthinking the situation?

Racing back into your room, you tore out a sheet of lined paper and a mark erfrom your jar of pens, pencils, highlightser, what have you, and began to write in large letters a note back.

‘I’m so sorry about the noise! I’ll make sure not to play it that ungodly early again! (also, no it doesn’t, my taste in music is fine).’

You felt a little silly putting the added small text at the bottom of the paper in parentheses, but you felt the need to nip this particular neighbor’s opinion about your music in the butt- you boiled the choice down to comedies sake.

Making your way back to your door, you unlocked the bolt and unlatched the chain as you poked your head out. For it being almost the middle of the day, you made sure no one was in the halls before you jogged out your door and to the left. Your room was the furthest left room and they heard it, so clearly it had to be the left side neighbor... right?

Taking one last left-to-right look down the hall, you knelt at the door, pushed your paper under it, and dashed back into your own apartment before locking it back up. You let out a breath, as you pushed your back into the door, feeling awkward and almost embarrassed at the idea of passing notes with your neighbor. Trying to be secretive about it and acting like if someone saw you push a note under their door you’d be looked at strangely.

In a somewhat awkward way, you felt like some weird criminal.

“Whatever,” you shook your head, slapping your hands on your cheeks and heading to the kitchen. Finally ready to get that glass of water you had been craving to soothe your aching throat with. You had other things to get done today anyway. Now that you were awake, better get your day started.

Even if you may have just completely fucked your sleep schedule.

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 3 years

Text

Archive of laughter

A/N: Natasha realizes that Clint’s motivation is at a new low and tries to shift his mind away from the present. When he accidentally offers her the perfect method for doing so, she does not hesitate. Set in the What if… episode 1x08 with post-apocalyptic Clintasha vibes. I missed them.

2766 words

„Ughhhh.“

„…“

„Hngggh.“

„…“

„Aw man aw man aw man.“

Natasha looked up from the sheets in her hands with a reprimanding look in her eyes. „Clint!“

„What?“ With a sour expression he sent her a glare over his metal shoulder from where he stood in front of a gigantic shelf, stacked with boxes full of documents. „If I don’t get to bitch about this, I doubt I’ll live through it.“

Natasha’s annoyed countenance made room for worry when she saw how large the shadows under Clint’s eyes were. How dark and hopeless they looked over the left-over shelves of the Archive. Hundreds of them, holding God knew how many files they had to look through to find answers.

It wasn’t like Clint was being dramatic. He was at the limit of his strength, at the far corner of his already fragile mental stability after years of running, hiding, bleeding and grieving. After years of trying to endure the fact that him and Natasha were, as far as they were informed, the last two living beings not only of their planet, but of the entire universe. After Ultron had destroyed everything and everyone else.

Natasha knew what he felt like, knew how hard it could get to keep it together, to not succumb to madness. Especially when faced with an enormous Russian Archive stacked with billion sheets of paper that may or may not offer them a solution in a single printed line or a minimal percentage of about 0,0001 percent of the files at hand.

She could see the horror Clint was experiencing in connection to the possibly hopeless workload that lay ahead of them and she was scared of the thoughts that were currently running through his mind, unseen, pondering dark questions and possibilities she did not dare to even consider.

She had to do something.

Slowly she lowered the files she held in her hands and stared at Clint’s back while he was already busy flipping through boxes again, his head hanging almost as low as his shoulders.

„Hey,“ she gently addressed him, making him stop and look over his shoulder again. Such tired blue eyes. She’d never seen them look this tired before. „Clint, I promise, this will be worth the effort. We will find something that will make all this go away again. Something that will defeat Ultron. I know it.“

His eyes lingered on her for a few moments longer, sadness reflected inside them. Then he turned around again, his shoulders as heavy as before. „Yeah. Sure.“

Now Natasha’s shoulders slumped down as well.

No, no, no, she could not leave him be this way, she could not let this slip and act as if everything was a-okay. She was acting cheerful for the sake of the both of them. But she knew it wouldn’t be good for anything if Clint continued faking smiles and showcasing his I-have-no-hope-left-but-I’ll-do-this-for-you expression.

He didn’t want to worry her. Which was the exact reason why she was so worried.

„Clint?“ She tried again, smiling, despite his loud sigh as he put his box away and turned around another time to face her. With one hand resting on the shelf to support himself he looked at her, softly, despite his obvious frustration. „Yes?“

„Can you imagine that we once thought being caught in an airvent for two days was basically the worst?“

Something in Clint’s posture changed at that. He opened his eyes a bit more and suddenly huffed a short laugh, nodding at her words. „Yeah. Two days. How laughable that seems now.“

„It sure does. But we made the most of it, didn’t we? How did we keep ourselves distracted back then?“  Clint pushed himself away from the shelf with a smile, his thoughts obviously shifting from the dark corner of his mind to a brighter one. Natasha’s smile widened.

„Well, you took an awful load of time to find out that I repeatedly wrote the same word during our Hangman matches.“

Natasha had to laugh out loud at that. „Okay, to my own defense: I did not yet know how stupid you actually were back then!“

„Touché,“ Clint grinned, the shadows under his eyes vanishing slightly. „You did find out about quite a few things while we were hiding out up there. The worst part being that you discovered how ticklish I was. Not exactly fun times for me.“

Natasha smirked at the memory. „Oh no, those were actually reeeeally fun times for you. I remember you laughing incessantly in fact.“

„Do you now?“ Clint squinted his eyes at her in mock anger, a warning spark shooting through them.

„Especially when I tickled you in that one particular spot… where was that again? I think you actually begged for me to stop when I got you th-“

„Tz, shut up!“

Natasha gasped in fake indignation as Clint suddenly turned his back to her, his voice altering to a slightly more embarrassed tone and his hand waving her off, as if to tell her not to dwell on it too much. Of course, that was, in her opinion, the most adorable reaction he could have possibly chosen and she would now dwell on it even more than before. Slowly she moved out of her cross-legged position on the floor, threateningly wiggling her fingertips around. Wasn’t this actually the perfect way to cheer up her favorite person in the world? Why hadn’t she thought of this before?

„Wait, I think I actually do remember. Would you mind if we test this memory, just to make sure-“

„Now is not the time, Natasha.“ He gently tried to reason with her, a meaningful look in his blue eyes when he shortly turned his head around to glance at her.

Natasha lowered her hands. But a teasing smirk remained on her face. „The time for what?“ Clint tried to appear unimpressed by her attempt to make him say it. He seemed determined not to step into her trap this time. Not after all those times he’d already made that mistake.

„You’re not gonna make me say it.“

„Say what, Clint?“

Natasha noticed that he kept looking over his shoulder ever so slightly, as she started approaching him, taking note of her sneakily coming closer. The smallest smile played around the corners of his lips.

„I said you’re not gonna make me say it.“

Natasha felt a wave of happiness course through her stomach at the way Clint’s voice altered ever so slightly. He was smiling, she could tell. Now she was going to make him laugh.

Clint sighed as Natasha came to a halt right behind him. By now he had to be able to feel her breath on the back of his neck.

Natasha’s fingertips were itching to search for some ticklish spots.

„Don’t!“ He said gently, without any conviction whatsoever, the small smile still audible in his words.

„Don’t what, Clint?“ Natasha asked again, her hands slowly nearing his sides from behind.

Clint sighed, his shoulders moving up and down. It was a sigh of defeat. The sigh of someone who had accepted his own fate. Probably already had on the day he’d met her. A fate filled with being Natasha’s favorite victim. She could feel anticipation surge within her as Clint tried to mentally prepare himself for the consequences of his actions. Or rather of her actions.

„Tickle me!“ He submitted with a slightly panicked ring to his voice.

And Natasha didn’t allow him a moment to second guess. „My pleasure.“

Clint was on his knees in no time, dropping the files he’d held in his hands and throwing his head back against the awful feeling spreading on his sides. He instinctively tried to press his elbows to his sides to limit the access for Natasha’s ticklish scratches but she easily wormed her way past his defenses, making his suppressed groans turn into giggles effortlessly.

„NO!“ He huffed, trying to bend over more, further away from her, giggling madly as Natasha’s fingers managed to weasle their way under his arms to scratch at his ribs. „Noho plehease!! Tasha!!“

Natasha chuckled triumphantly and tried to climb her fingertips up higher, tried to get them past his ribcage to wiggle them right into his most ticklish spots, right under his arms. But Clint was trying his utmost to keep her from reaching that spot.

„You are saying no, but you asked me to do this, remember?“ Natasha teased, chuckling when Clint tried to snarl at her, with the emphasis on „tried to“ since any possible effect fell flat due to his laughter mixing in loudly.

„Stahahhaap I mean it!!!“ Clint barked when she suddenly pulled her hands away from his ribs to sling her arms around his chest and pull him down on his back, trying to climb on top of him to pin him down properly. He had to laugh at her antics as he in return tried to grab a hold of her arms or legs or basically any part of her body to have a minimal chance of coming out of this without ridiculing himself senseless.

He didn’t stand a chance though, for his bones and muscles already had to start feeling like useless goo, his laughter wouldn’t seize and he couldn’t see properly through his closed eyes. Natasha couldn’t stop smiling either as she could witness all the beauty of Clint melting underneath her touch - into a tiny puddle of giggles and shrieks.

„No no NOO!! AHahaha GET OHOHFF MEE!!!“ Clint yelled when she accidentally pushed a knee in his stomach in their grappling for the upperhand, resulting in her managing to sit on his hips properly, keeping him down where she wanted to keep him.

„Youhohu fohohoul cheheeater!!“ He laughed when her fingertips started crawling up his sides again and he only had limited space for flailing and turning anymore, his laughetr sounding deeper and more breathless already.

„Cheater? Really? What, just because I hit you here?“ She questioned, making him choke on his laughter when she scribbled her fingers on his stomach.

„Dohohon’t!“ He shrieked, hitting his head against the floor by accident and laughing even more in the aftermath. „IT TICKLES!!“

„I know, honey, it’s why you’re laughing!“ Natasha explained in a playful voice, before she had to free her wrists from one of his iron defensive grips in protection of his upper body, which didn’t stop her for long as she merely had to lean down to blow a raspberry on his unprotected neck, making Clint who had not expected this at all squeal with laughter.

„TH-THAHAT’S NOT ALLOWED!!“ He argued, letting go of her hands and trying to push her away from himself again, laughing helplessly when her fingers were back on their way up his ribs in no time. „Stahahap it already!!!“

„No! We haven’t yet tested my memory!“

„It’s my armpits!! I prhohohomise!! No need for tests, rehehheally!! rEHEHEALLY!!“

Clint kicked out as hard as he could behind Natasha’s back as she managed to wiggle her fingertips the slightest bit underneath his biceps and metal arm to get at the sensitive spots. She smirked and tried to distract Clint by blowing air into his face, chuckling when she saw him squeeze his eyes shut even more. „StAHHAP THAT!!“

„Come on, lemme! Just for a second!“

„Nohoho wahahay!!“

Clint’s laughter was flowing completely freely by then. He had seemingly let go of all things depressing for just this small amount of time, giving in to the unrelenting ticklish feeling and not trying to fight his own laughter anymore. Natasha hadn’t seen him this carefree in years.

She could not stop now, where she was seconds away from making him lose all track of thought. Just for a little while. Determined she moved up a little further on his body, sitting down on his upper stomach and almost making his eyes pop out by the sudden shifts of weight. He couldn’t form a coherent complaint though, since Natasha quickly moved her hands behind her back to dance her fingers down his sides, that were now completely at her mercy due to their new position.

„NHOHOO!! Nohoohoho!! stAHHAHP!! I can’t bREHEHEATHE!!!“ Clint’s eyes were shining from his laughter by now, the bright blue of his iris taking Natasha’s breath away. She grinned at his futile attempts to get a grip of her hands and took this opportunity to push her knees up further, blocking Clint’s ability to defend his armpits any further. He realized this immediately and barked out a single „SHIT!“ before her fingers attacked, making him arch his back and give in to a defeated laughter that came straight from his belly and sounded deeper and richer than all the sounds he’d already made. He couldn’t get another word in, as his laughter kept pouring out of him, merely started shaking his head around and kicking out less than before.

Natasha smiled fondly as she listened to his hearty laughter, the one she hadn’t heard in so long and saw how it brightened up his features.

„I think this proves it alright.“ She chuckled, removing her fingers from his armpit to allow him a breather before she evilly snuck them in again.

„NO NO NO PLEHEHEASE!! STAHAHP!!“ Clint barked out, his laughter sounding a tad bit hysterical as he tried to move out of his fatal position now. But Natasha immediately stopped at his request and gently shifted back to sitting on his hips, allowing his arms to cover his ampits again.

She chuckled softly as he gasped for air, noisily, sounding as if he’d just ran a marathon, his head falling back to the ground. She put her hands on his stomach and grinned when he flinched underneath her touch, gently patting the spot in an offer of peace.

„No more tickling, I promise.“

Clint sighed in relief and moved his head up to look at her again. They glared at each other for a little while, before they both had to laugh - about each other, about themselves, about the fact that they had just done this in the midst of an apocalypse.

Clint groaned and tried to stop chuckling with a pained expression. „Ah, I can’t laugh no more. My stomach will explode!“

„What can I say, Clint, you asked for this!“ Natasha smirked, chuckling when Clint squinted his eyes at her dangerously.

„Oh, you better watch it! I know that you’re not immune to this either!“ Clint tried to poke her in the side, but Natasha snatched his wrist and held on tightly.

„You wouldn’t stand a chance!“

Clint grinned at her, a grin she hadn’t seen in quite a while.

„I’ll attack when you least expect it!“ He purred in a voice that sent a goosebump down Natasha’s arm. Damn, she’d missed this Clint.

„I’ll always expect it then,“ she retorted and stuck her tongue out at him, getting back to her feet and offering him a hand but dropping it again before he could reach for it. Clint chuckled at that. Slowly he pushed himself off the ground as well to get back to where he’d been so rudely interrupted previously.

With his hands on his hips he looked over the shelves of the Archive and sighed. „If you keep doing things like that, we’ll never be done here.“ Clint remarked, bending over to pick up the files he’d dropped earlier.

Natasha waited until he was standing upright again, before she took a step closer to him and threw her arms around him. Clint gasped in surprise, the files flying from his hand to the floor. With a tired huff, he ignored the mess and gently wrapped his arms around Natasha as well. She could feel his warm breath on her head and snuggled closer to his chest.

„It’ll be okay,“ Clint suddenly whispered, stealing her line. She moved her head away from his chest in surprise to look at him. He was smiling, nodding - and she realized that it was all she’d needed from him: reassurance.

She turned her lips into a thin line and nodded as well, a weak smile on her face.

„It will be,“ she agreed, meaning to move away from him and get back to work. But his grip tightened around her. She looked up in horror.

„You didn’t expect that.“ He smirked and Natasha could not believe that he had turned the tables this sneakily until he lifted her into the air, threw her over his shoulder and tickled her sides until her laughter and her fists to his back grew weaker.

#tickling #tickle fanfic #what if...#what if #clintasha #clint barton #natasha romanoff #ticklish!clint #avengers #clintasha tickling #avengers tickle fanfic #post apocalyptic clintasha #what if clintasha #archive of laughter #black widow #black widow movie #black widow spoilers #i had to include canon vent clintasha #^^

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amiechuchu · 3 years

Note

do you do requests? :D can i request for a fluffy doctor!reader and loki? i love your mmaatib series btw!

anon!! you're making me BLUSH!!! thank you so much for your support! and sorry if this came out a bit late i was feeling a bit under the weather the past few days. i also apologize for any errors btw! as you can see, i am a very very tired student who just wants her fix of loki too :'). anyways, i hope you enjoy!

Summary: because of y/n’s incessant pestering, loki turns y/n into a cat hoping that it would give him a moment’s peace.

Warnings: none

Catastrophe.

Loki had become accustomed to the smell of disinfectants that linger in the medical wing as his visits became more and more frequent. Although he hated to admit it, he loved the company you were able to provide. Maybe a bit more than the shared solace your safe haven have provided for the both of you. Usually, the low hum of the air-conditioning filled the room’s silence along with the small conversations you and Loki had shared.

However, today was not one of those usual days. Today, you decided to reverse the roles, where you would be the one getting under Loki’s skin and Loki would be... Loki. Today, you decided that it would be fun to be the most annoying person in the whole Nine Realms. How? By disrupting the peace that graced this room, of course. You started off by imitating the Avengers to which he easily ignored. Then, you began imitating him, speaking of glorious purpose and whatnot, asking him to conjure his prized golden horns for you to use. Though the image that crossed his mind of you wearing his horns was temptingly adorable, his growing annoyance was far greater. Its evidence pointed at his deepening unamused pouty face.

The last straw for Loki was when you thought of imitating a variety of earth’s animals. You chirped, mooed, croaked, barked, and meowed. At that point, despite how much Loki loved hearing your voice, having a moment’s silence sounded so much sweeter to him. So, the God decided to turn you into the last animal you imitated... a cat. With a flick of his wrist, green swirls engulfed your form, and, in just mere seconds, you were transformed into a furry feline. A very cute one nonetheless.

You stood on your hind legs to admire your paws, mesmerized. Loki, on the other hand, looked pleased to see that your awe has taken over your sudden bouts of wanting to annoy him. He could finally read his book in peace, whilst stealing glances at your feline form every now and then to make sure that you don’t get into trouble.

You took a few steps forward and a few steps back to see how comfortable it was to walk on four legs. It seemed very unnatural to you at first, but you managed. After a few minutes of walking, running, jumping, and exploring the area with your new form, you were confident that you had mastered the basics of feline movement. Without a care in the world, you began to sing Loki a song... in cat... very badly. In which, the lyrics you uttered were literally just meow, meow, meow, and meow on repeat.

“Loki,” you said in attempts to get the God’s attention. To your surprise, a meow still came out. The evident shock in your furry face shown as your irises were enlarged and your mouth slightly open.

“Cats meow, pet,” Loki snapped at you, eyes still focused on the novel he was reading. “You know, for a mortal who treats people for a living and studies human physiology all their life, you don’t seem very smart. And no, before you even ask, I will not turn you back. ”

Ignoring his remark, you jumped up to the table where he was situated. This time you kept tapping on his hands. “Hey, listen,” you meowed wanting the God’s undivided attention. “Wait, how can you even understand me?”

Before Loki could answer, the doors to the medical wing were swung open, revealing your boss, the one and only Tony Stark. Great. Immediately, Loki’s face soured upon seeing the man. His face all scrunched up and pouty again. You, on the other hand, pretended to be a good little kitty and lie down on the table, acting all cute and innocent. Tony wouldn’t notice, right? No, he would. But, he wouldn’t care, right? Hopefully.

“Reindeer games, have you seen the, uh, doctor in charge here. They are about this tall, and probably the only person who hangs out here majority of the time?” Tony asked, as he made gestures with his hands trying to picture out your height. He took a few glances at you - the cat - on the table as your tail gracefully wagged to-and-fro. Although a bit confused, he decided not to mind it, thinking that someone - maybe even Loki - adopted the cat and let them in the tower. Not that he really cared at the moment. Currently, the only thing nagging his brain was finding his precious doctor to finish their research agenda. This was the first time you were late and that worried Tony more than he’d like to admit. He wanted to find you before an overprotective uncle Bruce could notice, and, honestly, racing against that time period was too pressuring, even for him.

“I haven’t seen them,” Loki replied, making shooing motions with his hands. A signal that he wanted to be left alone already. The God went back to reading his novel until Tony left to scour the entire building for you, muttering something along the lines of calling Doctor Strange if he couldn't find you at all. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t take it lightly knowing his niece was missing under his watch, so calling out the all-knowing sorcerer became his trump card in case dear old Brucie decided to kick his ass for losing you.

With Tony out of the way, Loki turned his gaze on you.

Actually, on nothing now.

Of course, you had to disappear for real this time.

An exasperated sigh came out of his mouth as he realized you ran away from him. It wasn’t long until the same sense of worry Tony had came over the God. Realizing his current situation, an anxious laugh managed to come out of his mouth. Look at him, Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, a literal deity, worried about the doctor who he turned into a cat.

At this point, panicked thoughts began to rival his own logical ones.

What if someone else had picked you up? You were in a form of a feline inside a facility that clearly doesn’t deal with any animals. It wouldn't be a surprise if someone took you. Undoing the magic with this situation in mind wouldn't bring as much trouble, right?

Loki thought of undoing the magic, but another thought popped into his head before making the decision. What if you were hidden in some cramped space just waiting for him to find you? He feared that undoing it while you were in hiding might be detrimental to your own safety. As much as you annoyed him, Loki wouldn’t want to see his favorite little physician hurt in any way.

Upon weighing all the pros and cons of the situation they were in, Loki decided to look for you the old fashioned way: by himself. Magic would be useless in this situation. Knowing you, any form of telepathic communication Loki made would just be ignored. Though he loved playing all types of games with you, this one only stressed him out. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and thought of the different places he would hide if he were you.

The God observed his surroundings as he decided to look for you inside the medical wing first. With you in feline form, you wouldn't have the strength to push open the doors, so he deduced that you wouldn't have gotten too far. Maybe you were under the beds, hidden in the shadows. Or even at the top of the shelves, away from plain sight. He began pacing through the whitewashed rooms, looking for more clues to narrow down the possible hiding places. Upon reaching halfway through the wing, Loki noted how the afternoon sun shone brightly, through the wide glass windows especially there at the far end of the room. Coincidentally, at the same area, he also spotted a seemingly occupied hospital bed with its curtains pulled all the way. The God took a few more steps as his brain continued to wire all the information together. Finally, it dawned on him.

That was perfect place for a catnap.

Loki crept towards the bed's entrance, careful not to make any sounds to alarm you. Anxiously, he peered through the curtains, mentally cursing himself for the crinkling sound it made. Gods, how he prayed to find you there waiting for him. Taking a deep breath, he made his way inside the secluded area to find... you basking under the sun in feline form, all curled up and asleep. Thank the Norns.

Your rhythmic purring quietly resonated throughout the area. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, relieved to have found you. Although he was jealous of the fact that the entire time you were just fast asleep, while he had to go through such an ordeal. And so, Loki climbed on top of the bed in the most quiet way possible. Although he was slightly unsure of his actions, he did it anyway. No one else was there, no one else would know. So, there he lay beside you, comfortable with a novel in hand.

It was not long until all the adrenaline in his system died down, and Loki too needed a nap of his own. He stifled a yawn, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber. As time passed, the God slowly drifted to sleep, and the magic that held your form was undone. Now, there you lay beside him, adorned by the golden afternoon sun.

Still in deep sleep, you shifted your position, attracted to the warmth the God had brought with him. Realizing the change in position, Loki, as if by reflex, took his arm and put it around the small of your waist in attempts to keep you from falling off the edge, to keep you close. His head nudged yours lightly, and there he stared, captivated, at your sleeping form. There he realized how much he really cared for you despite how much of a handful you can be sometimes. It just felt right for him to have you pressed into his chest, to have his arm around you, to have you right there by his side.

It just felt right for him to have you.

“Sleep well, my mischievous little doctor,” the God said as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before finally dozing off.

As the two of you blissfully slept, basking under the afternoon sun, somewhere around the tower there was a very angry Tony Stark, looking for the missing doctor. That didn't matter at all to Loki. The only thing that mattered to him then and there was you by his side, safe and sound.

It was enough for him that today didn't end in a catastrophe.

Taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff

#mmaatib #magic mayhem and all things in between #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki/reader #loki/you #loki imagine #imagine loki

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help-im-a-gay-fish · 3 years

Text

The Night of the First Mistake

Sequel to

Synopsis: pre X-orcist, almost a year after Nightmare's death, Dream is still not on top of his grief and causes him to resort to desperate measures.

Tw mentions of death/dead loved ones.

X-orcist au belongs to me and @zu-is-here

Dreams, Demons and Desires is by me.

Enjoy

Almost a year had past since he'd last seen Nightmare. The skeleton couldn't say he had mourned him, but the news of his death had been unfortunate to say the least. Who could have seen someone like Nightmare dying in such a preventable way? Not him, that's for sure.

He was a friend... Or at least a friendly acquaintance, clearly he'd not been quite close enough to Night's inner circle to be invited to the funeral. He'd never even met Night's brother. Despite that, the news of his parting had deeply saddened him and every so often, he thought of him with a sigh.

A good customer and a good person.

This evening, Nightmare played at his thoughts again, probably drudged up by the anniversary of the accident approaching, he hadn’t meant to make note of the day, but he had. a few weeks would be the anniversary of the day he heard the news.

He thought back to a year ago, a few weeks before his death. The words he’d said about his brother and the increasing frustration about his sinful thoughts. Killer didn't judge him for such feelings, he was no stranger to sin.

Other then that, there was nothing at all strange about this night.

Tonight, just like any night, he was in his shop and the counter. It was a cold October and pretty soon he'd be closing up.

It was dark and chilly in his shop and had a strangely pungent smell, which hit the moment you walked in. A mix of crushed herbs and spices, old books and stale coffee.

An old set of scales sat on the counter top in front of him, as did a till, several glass jars and containers and a large collection of dirty coffee mugs.

Behind him there was a large book case full of many strange books. Ones with faded titles, ones with thick leather bindings, some with large strains spreading across the covers or pieces missing. If you asked him, he'd liked to have said that he'd read all of them... But there were a few he hadn't. He wasn't much of a reader outside of this collection.

As he nursed yet another cup of coffee from the café next door, he tapped his slender skeleton fingers on the counter top. He was bored.

With a glance at the clock, he decided today that he could close up early. It was his shop after all, he made the rules. A small collection of trinkets and charms hung around his neck and clinked together against his old coat, as he got to his feet.

Just as he prepared to take today's earnings from the till to count it, he heard the door and a jingle of the shop bell, indicating someone had entered.

He set an empty eye socket in their direction as they froze, looking nervous.

The person was new, but also something about them was strangely familiar. After scanning them for a moment, his face twisted into a sly smile upon realising who the new comer could be. He turned his face to them fully, staring his pitch eyes right through them. They tensed, which amused him slightly.

"well hello Little Light.... How may I help you"

Dream seemed taken back slightly by the pet name. It wasn't something he was used to. His hands fused with the fastening on his coat.

"uhh Hello.....I’m..... Uh.."

The shop keep chuckled again. Such nervous behaviour wasn't something he saw often from his customers. Looks like it was going to be an interesting night and to think, he was going to close up.

"nervous Lil light?"

Dream once again tensed and shuddered slightly.

"Please.... Don't call me that" he stammered slightly before taking a breath "My name is Dream"

The shop keepers grin got even wider and it made a chill run up Dream's spine. There was something extremely unnerving about this skeleton. Maybe it was the emptiness of his eyes or the strange carvings around them, but Dream was sure that it was more then that.

The atmosphere of the shop was very unsettling and kind of cramped in Dream’s opinion. There were many trinkets, stones, crystals and small animal bones stacked neatly on the shelves. It was this, along with bags of salt and bundles of sage and garlic, that reassured him he was in the right place for what he needed.

"Dream huh?.... Thought so" he said in a low tone "I'm so glad to finally meet you"

The nervous shifting of his hands continued, as Dream once again tensed even further. He was acting friendly, but it still felt ever so slightly...off.

"h-how do you know me?"

"I knew your brother and I'd recognise that pendant I sold him anywhere" he said, with his eyes looking at Dream's chest.

Dreams fingers quickly shot to the star charm hanging from his neck, and gripped it tight. Looks like this was the right place.

"Not to mention there's your golden eyes" he continued, shifting his gaze straight into Dream's eye sockets. It was strange how Dream knew where he was looking, even without eye lights.

"he often talked about them......He was right when he said they were very beautiful if I do say so myself~"

Dreams face blushed slightly, but he felt a familiar twist in this chest at the mention of Nightmare and a sinking feeling when he was reminded how Night felt about him. His brother had often complimented his eyes.....

He'd just never really understood it was more then brotherly affection. At least until now.

"I.... Uh" Dream said before clearing his throat "You're Killer.... Aren't you?"

Flexing his fingers, Killer nodded. The grin didn't leave his face.

"looks like my reputation proceeds me"

Dream let go of his necklace and a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I thought it might be you.... Based off something he wrote in his diary".

Before Night's accident, Dream had never even considered reading his diary. That was just a basic code of conduct. However, after his death, it became something Dream had often thought about. The diary, and everything else Nightmare owned, now belonged to him. For that reason he'd taken the book out of Nightmare's room.

However, he'd just kept it on his bedside table for almost a year before he finally had the courage to read it.

It had mostly been a fond look over some old memories, some good and some bad. But there were also passages about his feelings for Dream, sometimes written confessions addressed him. Every word was full of truth, longing and pain. Dream had felt it all.

Those had been hard to read, but he'd not skipped a single page and read them each through several times.

Nearer the end of the book, Nightmare had started talking about his interest in the supernatural. Dream remembered his twin getting fascinated in that and spending long evenings talking with him about it over tea and biscuits.

One thing Dream hadn't known about, where his trips to the next town over, where he wrote about finding this shop and the shop keep. This had been where the interest started. It was this that had lead Dream to come here.

"right..." Killer said, downing what was left in his coffee mug and setting in on the counter top.

"well.... What can I help you with?"

Yeah.. Nightmare had written that Killer was always one to cut to the point. Dream knew that what he was going to ask sounded insane and he wasn't even fully sure if Killer was the right person to ask. But at this point he was desperate, he just needed to know. With his grip returning to his brothers pendent, he remembered who he was doing this for.

He took a deep breath.

"Can you bring people back from the dead?"

Killer didn't react visibly to that. But he drew out a long silence. After a little Dream was sure he saw his jaw clench. The silence was completely deafening, broken only by the sound of Killer's fingers tapping the counter top. Dream figured that he was probably struggling to think what to say. After what felt like a life time, he spoke.

"I specialise in charms and equipment for preventative measures to stop spirits inhabiting homes....I do not....." he paused

"I don't try and bring the dead to the living realms".

Dreams face fell. He really shouldn't have been so disappointed, it was a crazy ask. But with the way Killer spoke and what he sold in the shop, he'd felt so close to what he wanted. But maybe it really was just impossible.

He felt tears threatening to spill, he just couldn't take all this guilt anymore. All he wanted to do was tell his brother he was sorry. That night. That kiss. That dam horribly wonderful kiss...and that car.

"however...." Killer continued.

Dream felt hope flush through at those words and stood up slightly straighter. Killer turned his back to dream and started looking over the bookshelves behind the counter.

He didn't say a word, as Dream curiously watched him. He ran his thumb across the spines of several of the oldest and most dusty looking of them, eventually plucking out a large leather bound book with silver straps.

He walked back over, blowing dust off it as he did, and set it down on the counter with a light thud. The cover was extremely dusty and the leather was cracked and split in several places, yet the title still read fairly clearly and Dreams felt his heart skipped a beat.

The Practice of a Necromancer. Vol one of three. Summoning, Controlling and Banishing.

"I've not read this one fully, but it's been in my collection for years.... I suppose this would be the right place to look"

With that, he slowly opened the book and very carefully started to turn its pages. The paper was completely yellowed and clearly very fragile. There were no photographs, only hand done drawings of various items and also what looked like people, but with strange and uncanny faces. There were also other frightening images that Dream was trying not to look at.

Killer eventually stopped and ran his finger across a page.

"ah ha" he said "to summon a spirit into the living world"

He read over the text for a moment, as Dream watched impatiently. Killer knitted his non-existent eyebrows and narrowed his eyes.

"this stuff sounds overly complicated to me..... so I guess I'm not sure really"

But Dream didn't really seem to be playing much attention to Killer's words now. He was so desperately trying to read the text upside-down. Reading was something that Dream always struggled with anyway, so reading upside down would be near impossible. He reached forward to try and pull the book to him.

But he jumped back in surprise as Killer slapped his hand across the book, sending some dust into the air.

"now now now not so hasty Lil Light" he said returning back to a sweet tone, as he said the a pet name that made Dream's toes curl.

In his haste Dream had forgotten that this was a shop, not a library, so of course he wouldn't just hand it over.

The smaller skeleton knew that the book was probably pricey so it's not like Killer would just let him have it. It was clearly very old and Dream worried that he wouldn't have enough for it, but if he had to pay all the money he had to buy it. He would.

Reaching inside of his pocket, Dream pulled out a bundle of paper money and placed it on the counter and next to the book. Killer looked at it for a moment, before he took it and counted how much money was in the bundle. He ran his fingers across the notes, looking as if he was very tempted and contemplating his next move.

But then, much to Dream's disappointment, he put it back down on the counter.

"I don't want your money dream... That's not what I meant"

An unhappy wine left Dream's mouth, as Killer proceeded to hand his money back to him. Just as he was about to ask why, Killer cut him off.

"it's not for sale"

"but what if I just borro-

"or for rent or loan"

Dreams soul twisted. This felt so Incredibly unfair. He wasn't ever one to really get angry or feel hatred for people. But why had Killer gotten this book down if he didn't intend to sell it? Was he just trying to mess with him?

It was that moment that he wasn't sure he really liked Killer all that much.

He sighed.

"h-how come? Can I do anything to change your mind?"

Killer sadly shook his head.

"Dream....... I like to read the stuff for research purposes not for a practical use"

Dream opened his mouth to object, but killer silenced him.

"and I don't care what you say... but I don't think you're just interested in the topic"

Dream tried very hard not to show disappointment on his face, but of course Killer picked up on it. It upset him that his intentions were so easy to guess. Then again he'd opened with 'can you bring people back from the dead'.

He really should have asked in a different way. Feeling like an idiot, he tried to say that he wasn't intending to use the book in practice. But Killer once again shook his head.

He stood up slightly and gave Dream a sympathetic look, or a sympathetic as he could make it through his cold eyes.

"look....I know you miss him and that's ok I've lost people myself to" he said in a uncharacteristically gentle tone, which sounded fake.

Dream looked at his feet.

"but the dead need to be left dead. Trying to bring them back never ends well, Nightmare wouldn't want you to get hurt trying to help him"

Dreams eyes stayed fixed on the floor, not wanting to look at killer any longer. He didn't want him to see him cry. He didn't want to look like a baby. Just as he was going to try arguing again, behind him he heard the shop door open and the bell ring

He looked back at Killer seeing he'd straightened up.

"K-killer...." came a soft but slightly panicked voice.

Curiously, Dream looked over his shoulder at the source of the voice. It was another skeleton stood by the door.

In all his life, Dream had never seen someone look to tired. They seem to be slightly younger then Dreams age but it was hard to tell how much. Their appearance was clearly young, but the huge bags under their eyes aged their face several years. The most notable thing about them was that their eye lights where small, indicating that they were on edge.

They were wearing a oversized cream knitted sweater and had a maroon scarf decorated with a paw print pattern tide around their neck. They fiddled with it as their eyes a looked at Killer and then to Dream.

From where he was, Dream could also see them wearing several of the necklaces and charms that Killer a sold, as well as a few layers of bandages around their arms.

Killer hastily exited from behind the counter and approached them.

"Hey Cappuccino......." he said, trying again to sound soft.

Ccino wasted no time in burying his head to Killers chest and wrapping his arms around him.

In response, Killer stumbled slightly and looked momentarily taken back and very uncomfortable. After a moment he sigh, before gently placing an hand on his back.

"hey.....it's ok ya wimp... I'm guessing they're back right?"

Ccino simply nodded, Killer sighed.

"Dream can you show yourself out? I've got to take care of this, we're closing anyway. I'm sorry I couldn't help you better"

As Killer attempted to comfort the shaking skeleton, Dream turned his attention back to the book in front of him. It was just within his reach, the page was tantalising.

It was so clear, a set instructions of the exact thing he'd need to do to reach his goal.

Killer's warning played in his mind.

But he knew what he was doing right? It was his brother, what did Killer really know about what Nightmare would have wanted. He didn't know how.... Close... They were. At least he thought he knew.

It was a split second choice.

As Killer continued to try and comfort his companion, he saw Dream hastily exit the shop without saying another word. He stared at the door.

It didn't feel right.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped back from Ccino slightly.

"hang on"

He walked back to the counter and was relieved to see that the book was still there, however a moment later he noticed something else that make him freeze and curse under his breath.

"what's wrong?" Ccino asked, walking up next to him.

Killer didn't answer and instead picked up his book and looked at it closely to confirm what he saw. When he saw he was right, he near growled.

"Killer?" Ccino asked not seeing the problem.

"look....."Killer said quietly.

He ran his finger down the spine where the pages joined together. Once you looked closely you could see the remnants of torn paper sticking out.

"he took the page"

references coming soon.

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lexacoolfox · 3 years

Text

How danganronpa characters act with kittens with their S/O.

Kazuichu Souda

I think he would like hanging out with kittens

I just think you would have to remind him to tone done his volume and excitement

You also have to tell him to be gentle with them

“Their so cute! I thought cats were just jerks. Looks like I was wrong!”

“Why did you think cats are jerks?”

“Well I see people talk or post about how cats are, kinda entitled or mean.”

“Hehehe well that can be true. Cats can be like that. It might be because of the breed or the way their raised. I should know I have had plenty of cats.”

“Ooh! Babe! How about we get a cat!”

“I don’t know you know their a big responsibility.”

“Please babe!”

“Fine I guess.”

“Aw thank you babe!”

“Which one should we get?”

“How about this one!”

“Yeah! What should his name be?”

“How about Garfield?”

“Basic.”

“Ok ok. Stripes?”

“Nah.”

“Ok.…Ginger!”

“I kinda like that name!”

“Ok, Ginger! Your coming home with us!”

You to leave the pet store with cat food, cat bed, a small scratching post, some toys, water and food bowl, litter box, and a collar that says ginger.

You guys absolutely adore the cat. He actually very well train, he uses the litter box, the scratching post, never scratches furniture.

When you get home from your part time job you find Kazuichu playing with the kitten or him petting it while it takes a nap on him.

Your friends were surprised that the two of you got a cat. Most of them thought Kazuichu was more of a dog person. He claims that he likes cat and dogs. But for now he had just a cat.

“Hey babe, thanks for letting me get ginger.”

“No thank you for convincing me to get ginger.”

“Hehehe, I love this little guy!”

“I just hope he doesn’t steal you away from me.”

“Of course not! I have enough love for both of you.”

“Good to know.”

Makoto Naegi

You guys decided to visit a friend who’s cat just had kittens. You guys just went to look at them but makoto got a little to attached to all the kittens.

“S/O do we have to go so soon!”

“Naegi we can’t stay here forever.”

“But their all so cute!”

“Naegi…”

“Oh come on! Just a little longer. Pleeeaassee!”

“Ok a little longer.”

25 minutes later...

“Naegi, my friend is saying we have to leave.”

“Nnnoooo!!!”

“Come on cutie let’s start getting ready to leave.”

“S/O how about we adopt them.”

The cat in question had 3 kittens.

“Naegi I don’t think that’s a good idea. If you didn’t know cats can be quiet a challenge to take care of. Not mentioning 3”

Your friend came in and said you can take them, but she just had to mention whatever kittens we didn’t take she would put in an animal shelter.

You mentally screamed in your head

“S/O! We can’t let them go there! These sweet babies wouldn’t survive!”

“Naegi-“

He had a cute sad puppy dog face. It looks like you have three kittens now

So when you guys got home you put some tuna on a plate and used a bowl nobody used for water. And used a blanket for them to bundle up in

“Ok naegi. How about you name the black and white one, I name the orange and grey one, and both think of a name for the gray one.”

He nodded his head in agreement

He named the black and white one ace

You named the grey and orange one mochi

And the gray one you both agreed on the name faith

Funny enough, you actually spent most the time with the cats.

Naegi would sometime joke and say

“I think you love those cats more than me.”

But then he would also lay down and play with them.

Faith was a very friendly cat, she got along with your friends fine, she loved affection, she often slept with you guys

Mochi was kinda territorial, she would growl at your friends at first, maybe fiercely scratch them or loudly meow at them, she was also a little adventurous, one time you guys couldn’t find her until you heard a meow from the window and saw she had a mouse in her mouth, still alive mind you. You quickly took it out her mouth and let it outside.

Ace was a very lazy cat, he only really got up if you had food or he wanted to lay in the sun, he would let you pet him. He would also lay in your lap if your not doing anything and would pet him.

You guys loved your cats and don’t regret your decision getting all three

Hajime Hinata

Hajime was a bit skeptical when you brought a kitten home and said “come on honey, let’s just take care of it for at least a week or two. You might like it.”

While your at your job he just took care of it, feed it, gave it water. That’s it.

For the first like three days

After a while the kitten would jump on Hajime’s lap and just curl up and sleep. He found it so cute.

He would also start petting it

Using a laser pointer and playing with it

He would softly laugh when playing with it.

You were starting to think Hajime didn’t like the cat. Cause you never saw him do anything with it when you got home.

You came home on the last day to take it back cause you thought Hajime didn’t like it. But you couldn’t find him or the kitten

To your surprises you found Hajime sitting on the bed and playing with it. With one of those dangling cat toys.

“So you do like the kitten?”

He turned to you surprised and then his face went a little red with embarrassment. He slowly nodded.

“So do you want to keep her? If not I can take her back.”

“No I really like her! She cute and fun!”

“Ok let’s decide if a name for her!”

“Hhhmm how about muffin?”

“I do like it. But what about other names?”

“Kitten, missy, misty, mocha, Roxie, muffin-“

You about to tell Hajime he already said muffin before the cat meowed and looked at both of you

“…Muffin.”

The cat crawled towards Hajime after he said muffin.

“I guess our cat name is muffin.”

After playing with muffin for a while, you both got ready to sleep and mitten sat in between both of your faces

Who knew Hajime would like cats

Kokichi oma

Kokichi was just walking around minding his own business when he saw a kitten, covered in dirt, crying and very skinny. Now Kokichi can be a jerk but he isn’t heartless. He picked up the kitten and ran straight home. He got some soap (the kind that is safe for animals.) and turned on the sink and washed it, not to hard to hurt but enough to get the dirt off. Then he got a towel and put him on the floor. Then got a plate put some tuna on it and then got then a bowl of water. He let it do it’s own thing but after it was done the kitten rub against Kokichi leg. Throughout the day the kitten would follow him wherever he went around the house.

“Kichi, babe I’m home.”

“Hey S/O look what I found in the in the alley!”

He came in and showed you pure white cat.

“Can we keep him please!”

“Kichi, I don’t know.”

He started shedding some tears. Of course they were crocodile tears. But the fact that he acted sad, must mean he really wants it.

“Ok kichi we can keep him-“

“YAAAY!”

“But we have to take it to the vet to get him nurtured, and make sure it gets all his shots”

Kokichi agreed to you term and the next day you guys go get him nurtured and make sure to get his shots. Well you did. He went to go buy some toys, cat food, a bed, etc. after you guys were done you brought him home and started thinking of a name for the pure white cat

“How about snowball?”

“No that’s too generic.”

“Casper?”

“No, he’s not dead.”

“Alaska?”

“If it was girl maybe.”

“Glacier?”

“No.”

“How about blanco?”

“What’s that even mean?”

“It means white in Spanish.”

“Blanco…blanco…blanco”

“I think I like it!”

“Alright blanco it is.”

Kokichi loved the cat. He always feed it, gave it water, and he loved to play with it.

Funny thing about blanco he was quite the mischievous cat. He loved to push things off shelves and scratch up furniture. But he was so cute

Sometimes Kokichi takes him to DICE meetings. he has him in his laps. While talking about whatever plans he pets him like a super villain

You and Kokichi also loves it when he cuddles up with both you when you prepare to go to bed

Kokichi sometimes walks around and on his shoulders is blanco.

As we all know mui and Kokichi. Hate each other. So anytime he walking around with blanco with his shoulder and mui insults him or something. Blanco will jump off his shoulders and attack mui until she runs away. Which Kokichi praises him for(even though you tell him multiples times it’s not ok for blanco to do that).

I saved the best fact for last. Kokichi had somebody make a mini scarf like the one he has. Which when you saw, it felt like you heart almost exploded.

You both love blanco so much!

Nagito Komeada

You were leaving for a trip in two months, and Nagito wasn’t too happy about that. He didn’t voice the fact that he was really gonna miss you. But you knew anyway. He was always kinda lonely when you go away. Sure he has…friends…or whatever he has with his classmates.

So you decided to get him a pet, you thought a dog might be to much. So why not a kitten.

A black kitten with yellow eyes caught your eye. You thought how funny it would be to get her since black cats are bad luck. You also wanted to get her cause the owner said that kitten would go to a different shelter soon.

You poked a holes in a box and put her in with a bow on top

“Nagi!”

“My hope! What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s a gift! For you my love!”

“Oh! My hope! Getting trash like me a gift. Your too good for me!”

“Nagi, my love, your not trash. Come on open it!”

He opened it and the kitten jumped right out onto his chest. He was quite surprised

“My hope! You got me a kitten!”

“Yeah! I know how lonely you get when I go away. So I got you this kitten! Do you like her?”

He picked her up and looked at her. He titled his head sideways and the cat copied him. Then he smiled and hugged the cat.

“I love her!!”

You squealed cause it was so cute.

“What do you want to name her?”

“Mmhhh…Lucky! I want to name her lucky!”

“Hehehe I’m not to surprised.”

Nagito was really happy. He wasn’t too sad when you had to leave.

Him and lucky were always together. He loves that kitten like his own child. He always let her sleep with him, eats with her and sometimes walks around with her.

His classmates notice the kitten and they asked question about it. He told them how you got him this kitten.

Lucky was a very interesting cat, he seemed to bring Nagito such good luck, but others not so much.

Like for example, fuyuhiko said something not to nice to Nagito, lucky was just there sitting on Nagito’s shoulders. When fuyuhiko walked away he tripped on some stairs. It was a lot of steps but it he was still kinda hurt. A couple of bruises and scraps.

He sometimes likes to pick up lucky and boop their noses together.

Ibuki took a picture of the moment and sent it to you. That picture become your new phone background.

He like to call lucky his good luck charm.

When you get back from your trip he at the airport with lucky on his shoulders.

“It’s seems you two got close.”

“Yeah! My hope! Lucky is the best gift I’ve ever gotten! Thank you so much!”

“Gotten any bad luck lately?”

“Nope quite the opposite!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! She’s my good luck charm!”

“I’m glad you that she brings you that much happiness.”

“Yup! now that your back and with lucky here. I feel on top of the world!”

“Heheh I love you nagi!”

“I love you more.”

*meow*

“We love you too lucky!”

You all got in the car and snuggled up together. Lying your head on Nagito’s shoulders and putting his head on top of yours. With lucky on top of your laps. How cute!

#anime #writing #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa 2 #trigger happy havoc #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #makoto naegi #Kazuichu souda #kokichi ouma #kittens #x reader #S/O x danganronpa characters

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chrisevansluv · 3 years

Note

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

What A Day 💝

Sykkuno x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: Going to the store at any point between the 1st and the 21st of February is a literal nightmare for anyone without a significant other. All products in shades of red and pink, made especially to steal money from love-struck people. Sykkuno has honestly had it with having to deal with the shelves at stores laughing at him and his relationship status. Luckily, on a trip to Target, exactly on Valentine’s Day, he runs into someone who thinks the same.

Requested by Anon. Hello lovely person! Thank you so much for this wonderful request you’ve sent me! I’m so happy to be able to fulfill it and I hope it does your idea justice and I hope you enjoy the read! Happy Valentine’s Day! Love, Vy 💝

Sykkuno feels like he has entered a red and pink maze. His head is spinning slightly, his eyes only seeing shades of the bold color all around him. It’s downright impossible to ignore and combined with the mob of people rushing to get their hands on a last minute gift for their significant other, it’s suffocating. He couldn’t have run out of shampoo on a more inconvenient day than today. Valentine’s Day. Or as him and his friends like to think of it - anti single people day. I mean seriously, going to a store on Valentine’s Day while single has to be the most nightmarish experience.

Sykkuno isn’t one to care about relationships much, he has come to terms with the concept that no one is really interested in him - a concept of his own creation, mind you. A concept he blindly believes despite there being so many people to convince otherwise and change his mind. He has grown accustomed to the single life and if asked he always replies with the standard ‘Alone and happy’ response, accompanied by a small smile as if to prove that he is indeed happy. And he is, as long as he doesn’t start spiraling in thought he is rather content with what he’s got - an amazing group of fans, thousands and thousands of loyal fans, a job he loves. A romantic relationship has never been in his top priorities. But every now and then, he wishes he had it.

This is an example of one of those times.

Though everyone around him is mildly stressed and in a rush, they each have a place to be. A place where a person of importance to them is waiting for them. A person who will greet them with a smile, hug and kiss. A person they’ll spend the rest of the day with, sharing laughs and memorable moments that will make this day special. Cause that’s what it’s really about - chocolates and gifts aside, the most meaningful thing about today is spending time with someone you love. Someone you maybe see everyday yet every time you see them it feels like it’s been long since you last saw each other. Someone you maybe haven’t seen in a long time and this is a way for you two to be brought together. Someone you haven’t been spending enough quality time with and today’s your chance to change that.

He can’t help but feel a pang in his chest at the thought that hits him like a cannonball straight to the chest:

I will never have someone like that

“I KID YOU NOT, IF YOU HANG UP ON ME AGAIN I’M GONNA- HELLO?!“ His spiraling deprecating thoughts are cut off by an angry shriek from the other side of the shelves of products he’s standing in front of.

Sykkuno instinctively backs away from the voice, startled, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. There’s an empty spot in the shelves from where products had been snatched rather quickly, not leaving a single item. Given that it was the perfume section it makes sense. The lack of products allows for a peek on the other side of the shelves, or in the other aisle, to be more precise where he catches a glimpse of a person walking past in one direction, then comes back, then passes by again and so on until they catch him looking and stop dead in their tracks.

The hole is eye-level so the two are staring at one another like a pair of deer caught in headlights. Sykkuno feels the need to apologize for peeping in on their frustration breakdown which was probably supposed to be private, but then again it happened in the middle of a damn supermarket so he can’t really be blamed for checking to see what the commotion was about. But him being himself, apologizing is his first instinct.

Just as he opens his mouth, the person on the other side lifts two heart shaped boxes, “Hey stranger, sorry to interrupt your spying, but I’ve already called like three people to ask which of these is better at curing a lonely heart but they all hung up on me without giving me an answer so...” they trail off, shaking the two boxes of chocolates as if to attract his attention to them, “what do you think?”

He’s caught off-guard, to say the least. They dropped so much on him in a single breath he suspects they are now seeing spots in their vision due to momentary lack of oxygen. He wants to laugh it off but something tells him they are serious, “Oh, um, sorry, I’ve never had either.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Try eenie meenie miney mo?” He suggests, giving them a slight shrug of his shoulders.

They look between the two boxes, a in-thought expression on their face, “Screw it!” They finally say, “I’m getting both.” They secure the chocolates under one arm, flashing him with a bright smile, “What are you getting your significant other? Need a second opinion? Being the only single friend in a friend group has gifted me a peculiar but, oddly enough, useful skillset in giving second opinions.”

Once again, so much said so quickly, Sykkuno can barely keep up with them. It’s been a slow day for him so his brain was basically on airplane mode up until now. Thanks to this ball of energy looking back at him his brain has kicked into mega gear, each cell working to remain in step with his correspondent. It’s a nice change of pace - too slow and he gets too self-deprecating, too fast and he feels lost amongst the words being said but with this person, no matter how quickly they’re speaking, the pace seems just right to lighten up his mood and return some liveliness to his being that was taken away by the broody thoughts that were coursing his head moments ago.

“If I could get a significant other, that’d be great. I’ll make sure to ask you for a second opinion then.” He admits timidly, looking away from the bright eyes that keep up bold eye-contact with no hesitation or doubts. He wishes he had at least half their confidence, but sadly he doesn’t. Especially not when faced with someone so courageous and upbeat, someone who seems to always want to be making the most of the time they’re offered, making every second count, making it memorable. He’s never been good at reading people, but this person is an open book with audio to go along with it. A show and tell book of vibrant colors and details that make them stand out and blend in simultaneously. But as they themselves said - they’re lonely. Does it show? Absolutely not. That speaks volumes about what kind of person is standing opposite him right now. Perhaps one he’d like to get to know better.

Or maybe he’s become just a tad too desperate.

“So should I give you my phone number so you can give me a ring when the time comes?“ The sneaky smirk that appears on their face brings a blush to his cheeks, a rush of blood so intense he’s embarrassed to admit it. Though one thing he’d have to admit is: that was a smooth line. “Oh sorry! People usually offer names before phone numbers, right?” They face-palm, shaking their head slightly before extending their hand to him through the hole in the shelves, “I’m Y/N.”

He takes their hand, cheeks still burning but a smile he couldn’t prevent is also gracing his features now, “Sykkuno.”

He can’t help but notice the words written on the inside of their wrist: chocolates, wine, ice-cream, chips and dip; the discovery provokes a chuckle from him which slips out before he could as much as think twice about it. Y/N’s gaze follows where his eyes are looking, stopping on the blue ink on their skin of their wrist and laughs, pulling their arm back, “Yeah, I’m rather forgetful.” They wave their hand nonchalantly before their eyes widen and they reach in their pocket, “Hold on! Give me your hand.”

He’d be a fool not to oblige. They pull out a pen, uncapping it with their teeth and writing a string of numbers on the side of the back of his hand going from the middle of his thumb to his wrist, each number written nicely and boldly, like their personality. It’s not an exaggeration when people say handwriting says a lot about a person - theirs is pretty outspoken that way.

“There!“ They smile after capping the pen again, “Hope you find you’re other half. Whoever they’ll be, they will most definitely be a lucky soul.“ They giggle, readjusting the heart-shaped boxes under their other arm, “It was nice meeting you, Sykkuno. Have a nice day!“

Y/N starts walking away without waiting for him to respond to their goodbye, leaving him somewhat speechless on his end of the shelves. He’s still in the middle of processing what just happened when his eyes land on the phone number on his hand.

I’ll maybe call them, He thinks to himself, looking at the digits of Y/N’s phone number from several angles when suddenly, an idea pops into his head.

Maybe I won’t

Before he’s had time to contemplate his next move, Sykkuno finds himself jogging towards the end of the aisle in hopes he’s not too late. In hopes that he will come across the person he just let slip from his reach like an dummy. He’s had far too many instances in which he accidentally let go of good opportunities, good people, good relationships, he’d hate to repeat mistakes once again.

Luckily, his prayers are heard.

“Y/N?” He calls out to them, catching their attention immediately. They turn around, a curious expression on their face, waiting for him to continue, “Do you, um, have any plans for today?”

Their eyes sparkle as they answer with a laugh, “You saw my grocery list, it should tell you about enough of how I’ll be spending the day.”

That’s a relief like no other. He was actually expecting them to come up with something last minute but his stars are probably well-aligned today, gifting him this luck, “Would you maybe wanna...um, grab coffee? Or lunch? Anything you’d like.” There’s that embarrassing bush again, this time more wide-spread than before and - impressively enough - more intense.

He thought their previous smiles were bright. No, no, no, no. Oh boy, was he wrong. This one! This one smile of theirs puts the sun to shame with its brightness and warmth. With its authenticity and contagiousness. It’s one of a kind. As is Y/N. “I’d love that, Sykkuno. Catch you outside?” They ask, showing their own timid side for the first time adding another element to their cuteness.

“A-absolutely.“ Sykkuno nods energetically, giving them a small wave before booking it straight towards the exits. All the while thinking to himself:

Damn, what a day. Wait...I forgot to buy shampoo, didn’t I?

@khaoticbunny @smiithys @chaoticgayandnerdy

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