#My dog had a brain fart today

[blnk338]

COD Headcanons!!

Pt 2 b/c you guys loved these sm

Relationship hcs!!

Price:

Good chef, GREAT at bbq

Taps his phone screen too hard and squints at it

Googled “Pegging” because Soap told him to

Regrets it dearly

“I’m just going to rest my eyes” and falls into comatose for 8-10 years

Was the best man at Laswell’s wedding and still cries today thinking about it

Does the dad-sneeze thing

Supporter of small businesses

Vanilla > chocolate ice cream will get into a heated argument over this

Will put on a 19th-century oil tycoon accent when asking questions about technology to make light of the situation

This started when he didn’t know how to change the wallpaper on his iPhone

Laswell does an incredible impression of his impression

Crazy emetophobia

HOLIDAY DAD! Absolutely shite with gifts but will wake up at 3 am to set up everything and give you a good holiday

Very comfortable in his masculinity from raising two daughters, made sure to teach himself how to raise them to be smart and safe, and actively does his best to keep himself in check and support the women in his life

Ultimate straight ally

His oldest, 15, made him and her little sister go to pride and he voluntarily wore a shirt that said “free dad hugs”

Gaz:

Got Price to say “Girl trust you will be dealt with” and had to get Soap to punch him so he could breathe again

Fluent in French!

Bisexual w/ a preference for women

Needs two triple-shot espressos every morning

Hates oat milk; thinks it's grainy

Is lactose intolerant though

But he’s not the shit-your-brains-out lactose intolerant, he’s the wallow-in-pain-on-the-bathroom-floor-for-eighty-minutes lactose intolerant

Turkey hater. Not the animal, the food. Thinks it’s dry and flavorless

Okayish cook, phenomenal baker.

Will leave baked goods in the sergeant's/lieutenant's and captain's offices/breakrooms and act surprised when he sees the plate of freshly baked brownies

Tried smoking weed, hated it.

Middle child of an older sister and a younger brother

Didn’t like The Office

Soap:

Can make balloon animals out of anything balloon-like (condoms included)

Has a TikTok, makes TikTok references

Loves cats and dogs equally, but had only dogs growing up so he’s not really sure how to deal with cats

In a constant state of "trying his best"

Dick stick-n-poke tattoo on his calf

30-minute night routine

Double exfoliates

Disgusted at Ghost’s hygiene

Loves the holidays; this man goes fucking insane for Christmas lights and his house is the biggest source of light pollution in the entirety of the UK

RELIGIOUSLY a supporter of small businesses. Loves little family-run stores and buys local produce/groceries all the time

Highlighter kid in grade school

Blamed a fart on Gaz and asked him if he was feeling “Gazzy” (Garrick smacked the shit out of him)

Makes gagging noises over comms to fuck with Price

Knows what kinning is, kins Rainbow Dash

ADHD

Coffee does the opposite for him; he’ll be bouncing off the walls and you’ll hand him a double shot espresso and he’s calm as all fuck

GREAT AT READING SOCIAL CUES THOUGH

Really knows how to read body language and will step back if anyone gets uncomfortable

Youngest of 3 brothers and one older sister (she’s second to oldest amongst his siblings)

König:

Will literally sit at home in full tactical gear

Chess master

Loves horror movies but gets super scared

Likes Scrabble

Bug kid!!!!!

Hates birds. No one knows why.

Doesn’t drink, prefers virgin versions of alcohol

Drunk König is a sad König

Wore headgear because of his teeth when he was in middle school

Favorite color is yellow but does love green!

Will accidentally man-handle people because he forgets his strength

Always so terribly sorry about it

Ghost:

Has had his license revoked an uncountable number of times (currently does not have a license)

Drives

No rizz

Horrifyingly good aim with anything and everything. Will chuck trash across the house and somehow land it in the bin

Will lean his head down slightly if someone he respects (and is shorter than him) is talking

One of those dog people that’s like “I fucking hate cats.” And then you find them napping together, and he’s carrying the cat in the hood of his jacket, and he sneaking them treats, and he’s talking to them in a baby voice…

Wins staring contests, always

Knows his staring is bad, but doesn’t really do anything to change it

Speaking of which, he’s got a horrible German stare (google it)

Spaces out and sways side to side slightly, unaware that he’s been glaring lasers into an unsuspecting private for like a solid forty seconds.

Doesn’t know what kinning is but would kin Winter Soldier / Bucky Barnes

Likes sensory toys but will never buy one because he thinks they’re too obvious.

Really wants a sensory slug

Definitely the jealous type but will not say a single fucking word

Soft spot for animals and young children

Likes drinking for a buzz, but will easily stop himself. He doesn’t like being unaware of his surroundings

Edibles > mass amounts of alcohol

Little fidgeting -> rubbing his thumb across the side of his index finger, squeezing his hands, twitching his feet but not enough to tap them, playing with the hems of stuff

Mirrors in his house are covered/removed

Wants a pet but won’t get one because he doesn’t like the idea of something relying on him, only to abandon them or discard them. He’s away for work often so it’s not like they would be taken care of

Doesn’t actively seek partners because he doesn’t think he’s worth it

Behind the confident, stoic attitude, he’s a man who doesn’t value himself and therefore, if he does have feelings for anyone, doesn’t put in the effort to pursue them or he tries to kill the warm feelings in him.

Better to be alone than to hurt someone he cares about

Graves:

Screams at Football (US) games

Thinks he can out-grill Price; cannot.

Lost his kids in the divorce

Thinks no-sock loafers are the way to go

Doesn’t wear socks that much, actually

Can’t handle spice

Mint n’ chip ice cream kinda guy

Fav beer is Natty Lit

Likes egg salad

Dog guy

Divorced twice, btw

“But if the roles were reversed…”

Doesn’t have a problem with climate change, and thinks that the weather is getting nicer so, if anything, the climate is just getting better

Uses Crest toothpaste

Left-handed and makes a big deal out of it

Gets really up in the ass about calling soccer “football” (not ironically)

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #soap mactavish #call of duty #phillip graves #konig mw2 #konig #mwf2 headcanons #headcanon #cod headcanons #yes these all apply to Reap What You Sow #rwys ff #rwys #rwys könig #rwys soap #rwys price #rwys ghost #rwys gaz #rwys graves

[ask-hannah-blog]

“Daisy get in here!”

She shuffles in with her tail between her legs. She’s been feeling me stew all day and knows she’s in trouble.

“Another good week Ms. Hannah…” she fiddles with her fingers.

“Don’t act stupid, you told Bambi we were sleeping together.”

“Well she’s been wanting to sleep with for a while, so when I got to I…”

“Shut up!”

She looks shocked, I would never have talked to her like that. Maybe not when she was a human but this stupid little secretary had to go and let herself be clowned. “Whu?” I can almost see her eyes sparkling with humanity, as if to finally see how out of hand we’d let all of this get.

“I didn’t ask for your idiotic point of view. Your loose lips caused Bambi a lot of pain today, and you discussed my personal life with a client. We don’t let these two things cross, so you understand?”

“It’s my personal life too…” she mumbles like a brat.

“No it’s not.” I say more hautily than I’m used to. “What I do with you is none of your business.”

She gawked at me. “How could you say that?”

“You’re my secretary, a piece of office equipment. You’re just a stapler I can fuck. You have no right airing my personal details to clients, or interfering with my clients the way you have.”

“Well I’m uh… I’m sorry Ms. Hannah.”

“On your knees.”

We’re both surprised by how easily she falls to her knees. She looked up at me with those big pliant eyes. I put my fingers through her green hair just like the fantasy I’d had that morning. I giggled excitedly just barely able to hold on to my dominating attitude. “Let me put you in your place.”

She was blushing, excited for whatever I had in store for her. Though she couldn’t have been expecting…

I pulled her head towards me, and turned around at the same time. I pressed her face into the butt of my pants, into my ass and…

Prrrrrrt!

I farted right in her face. She grumbled and n me ace pathetic little mewling sounds as my ass perfume filled her nose, burned her throat.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as she struggled to get away from my ass. Farts are just so funny, and it was even funnier that she was smelling mine!

Hehe Hyuk!

I took mercy on her after a few seconds in there and let her breath fresh air. She coughed even as I held her hair tight in my grip. “Get it? You’re a silly little fart toilet Daisy. People don’t want to hear gossip from a fart toilet.”

“Ooooooh”90 she was woozy fit to fall over.

I was giggling manically. “I still don’t think you get ,it fart for brains. Let me stuff your head a little bit more!” Laughing I pulled her face back into my ass and let it rip.

Pfffft prt pffffffffffffffftttttt!

I raised a leg like a peeing dog marking my territory and I guess I was!

I let her go and she fell back from my butt laughing. I looked at her closely as she laughed so her tears were streaming down her face. There was a sickly green gas leaking out her mouth, out her nose and ears

I smiled down at her. “Isn’t it funny we ever treated you as anything but a dumb little clown?”

She chuckled and goes to play with herself even as wisps of my fart still drift out of her empty head.

But I stop her, I grab her hand and pull her over to a mirror. She smiles at herself as I kiss her on the cheeks. “Look at yourself Daisy.” She does so. “Now cross your eyes, good, stick your tongue out, so cute, and give us a big smile.” She followed my introductions perfect making the face I’m the mirror look quite stupid. “Now look at yourself, that’s not a very smart looking girl is it?”

“No.” She giggled and shook her head.

“No it’s not, that’s the face of a dummy, an idiot, an imbecile. She a girl who looks like that be giving advice to any of my clients?”

She shook her head.

“No I don’t think so either. It doesn’t look like she’s thinking at all does it?”

She shook her head again.

“That’s because she’s not. I want you to stare at yourself in this mirror until this pose becomes comfortable for you, until it becomes second nature. This is the face you’ll make when you try to think of something that has nothing to do with your job, your eyes will cross, your tongue will drop out of your mouth, and you’ll smile. You’ll smile because you’ll have stopped thinking. Understand.”

“Yesh.” She tilted her head side to side like she was trying to understand how she could look so silly and dumb.

“Good, now bring your degree in on Monday, I have plans for it.” I went to leave my office, collecting my bag and everything. “You keep looking until you get it right, even when f it takes all weekend, but be sure to lock up when you leave! Love ya!”

#transformation #mind control #ask blog #hypnosis #clowntf #clown girl #clown #fart kink #face farts

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse Rewatches SPN 05x15

Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid

“Lets get horny for some angels” “What year was the car made? 67? Same as the birth of the grave” “Get your gun bro. Oh, he’s got one. It looks like he’s got a couple” “He who dies with the most toys wins. That was what the sign said, but they didn’t specify what kind of toys” Dean got microaggressed “And he picked today of all days to come back?” Hi Jody!!

“Huh” “Aren’t they stealing the gas anyway? With the credit cards?” “How long ago did the guy come out of the grave? Most cemeteries have dudes who mow every so often” “That was a neat transition” “Could have been that Sam just farted” “Why did she call the cops? Because the “FBI” came into their home? But her dead husband is alive? Why isn’t she freaking out?” “Bobby didn’t bother telling them that?” “Are all the reapers on vacation?” “Doesn’t he have to kill her again?” “I didn’t bother saying anything, but 15 or 20 came back” “Secret pie sounds good. That’s what’s going on in his brain” I didn’t realize my job was to bring you peace, Spouse.

“Must be that time of the month, Sam” “Is she going to eat his face?” “Delicious” “zombies” “The fuck is wrong with him?”

His wife is back

“So he’s going to cock a gun on the kids? Yeah sure?” “Wouldn’t 111 kill you? I’m pretty certain you’d die at like 105” “Did he eat his own leg, or is he killing Daddy?” “sure. As if there aren’t a bunch of people already locked up there. This is America” “She’s going to tell him now?” “zombies” “Bobby’s seen a lot of shit. He had to kill his wife twice” “Why do they bother asking each other? The answer is always the same no matter when they ask” “How do you get your hair to stay so perfect after breaking into houses, killing shit, whatever. There’s not a tear in those clothes even” “Zombie dogs next?” “Very Sean of the Dead vibe” “Cuz the guy got killed in a hunting accident and now there’s shotguns.” “What’s so important about here? There’s a whole ass town, and instead they’re going to the junkyard with armed people” “So when you said you were low, you really had a couple shots left.” “Terrible idea. You aren’t going to miss or have a ricochet?” “Hair’s still fine” “I mean, she had to kill her kid, and bobby killed his wife twice. But what do I know” “Just burning zombies in the town. No big deal” “What about twitter? Or anything else? The show can’t possibly pre-date that at this point” “What is shinola?” “Why do they even ask if he’s alright?” “hey Dean’s jacket is a little dirty. Imagine that”

"his collar is popped up though"

#beautifulspouserewatchesspn #supernatural rewatch #supernatural s5 #supernatural

[swisselytyson]

Oh laaawd these people

I've been on the anti-religion choo choo for about a decade consistently. No falls off the wagon out of fear back to the one true loving God who will smite me for all eternity in a lake of fire if I don't stroke his ego and talk about Him all the time to everyone I meet. Today, has been another entry in the annals of "you people are hideous". As a a healthcare minion there are some demographics of my patient population that I struggle with caring for and I'll be honest - people who exhibit violence toward others especially those of us tasked with helping them stay alive and well, perpetrators of sexual crimes, and probably anyone involved in systematic genocides. I mean, I'll take care of them and do the best job that I possibly can because that speaks to who I am NOT who they are. It's in spite of who they are and what they may have done. It still makes me gag internally, but I won't show it either.

I do get discouraged and frustrated with the people that can't move forward because they don't give a shit to take care of themselves and just expect me and other staff to do it for them for potentially YEARS. However, I digress, because I wanted to share something that happened because of the warm fuzzy accepting Christian religion.

My coworker had some not very interesting, appealing or appropriate things to say about a patient who is gay and HIV+. I went from 0 to 10 in about the time it takes to say "Did you hear what XYZ said about Patient ZYX?" and I said I did not hear that. ZYX had a LOT of health issues and was also suffering from some serious brain fade due to those issues. I would be completely confused as fuck and overwhelmed if I was in ZYX position. I wasn't even frustrated by ZYX lack of knowledge and understanding. I was gutted at his suffering and I wanted to do something about it and fix it. It broke my heart ZYX got to the health status they were at because we're supposedly a first world country and have first world problems so what the fuck is with all this preventable sequelae? Meanwhile, this born again twit is waxing theologic about this patient's partner being the same sex and what virus they have.

Her hair from the 1980s looking like some Duggar bullshit so I guess it makes sense her reaction to a health issue is also from that decade. She believes if she isn't servicing her man that he will leave. The patient has a virus that untreated could take their life but their partner is by their side and doing the best they can to provide care. The partner drives the wheelchair and helps them stand, carries their heavy bags of supplies and didn't act irritated or distanced from the person. The coworker's husband told her to wash dishes with cold water because he didn't want to spend money for a plumber to repair the hot water line in their kitchen. She finally got her way by holding her pussy hostage before her hysterectomy date which he knew was going to sideline him from hittin it for at least 10 weeks. MANS GOT THAT SINK FIXED SO QUICK. She said she "just asked him" and "he said yes". Bitch.... okay. She also the one that drops abominable farts on coworkers that smell like a fresh dog turd sizzling on hot pavement in summer time. You know who didn't drop an SBD on me, that poor patient who is fighting for his damn life.

So anyway, I hope she has the rest of the week she deserves at the very least. I'm glad she has the peace and assurance of her final resting place and she's so balls deep in that fantasy that she needs to feel superior shitting on other people without knowing anything except 2 damn pieces of information - gay and HIV+. Makes me nauseous just having to be polite and work place courteous to someone like that.

#irl people #personal rant #i need a drink

[afr0-thunder]

[Mind Pt. 3]

*Renaming Daydreams > Mind*

If you were a white man and you found out your woman (also white), had an enormous attraction to black men, would you leave her or stay because you know you could not do better. For reference: They are always very attractive.

I’m having problems figuring out how I’ll draw up the blueprints for my future home. The design and all of it’s unique components make it hard for me to solidify the idea and make it concrete. There are always edits. I “stress” about structure because I want everything to be 100% the safest option. No unexpected collapsing or any dangerous structures for children or even adults, but lots of fun. Also, what will this type of structure be labeled as, as it does not fit most of the traditional ideas existing today?

I wonder where I’ll put my OTHER ideas that I will not mention until I can find out how I can execute them. I look every day and continue to wonder how I will do that based on what I see.

I want to elaborate on the centered, top floor 4-story room idea. Do I need more stories? Or more space? Does centering it make sense for the space needed. Will I need more space for fucking? I can’t have all of my baby mommas fucking in the same bed? Maybe I’ll make one a theater with a hall of beds, for that reason. Or if there will become enough normality in the situation for us all to sleep there? One big bed instead or an entirely separate idea as well (meaning both)?

I wonder which of them will like TV shows versus Movies. Will there be anyone who likes the same shows or movies? I want to know which one will I watch Scooby Doo with? Saved By The Bell (which I’ve watched a million times already)? Static Shock (Edit: Lilo & Stitch actually; Brain fart)?Most people forget that “Children’s” shows were written by adults and contain better plots and life lessons than “adult” shows, it is just overlooked due to it not contain sexual content other than sexual innuendos or strong language. There are more shows I want to see, I just let them slip my mind.

There’s this regular we have at work. She’s very tall with an extremely pretty smile. She is one of my favorites. I just know she’s a freak. There’s also this asian girl with a really pretty face and smile…and the doctor (or at least she works at a hospital) with big titties and a pretty smile. I thought she had a boyfriend, turns out it’s her coworker.

Do you ever think fucking is one of the best hobbies? I have other favorites, but I’m not sure how I’ll divi up them all to make time for it. I shall see. There are times where I don’t want to stop doing any of them, but fucking is just indescribable and unpredictable. As they all are, but like you get me?

Lastly, I think my new celebrity “crushes” are:

Elizabeth Stanton, she’s a sexy redhead on the CW. She hosts this home videos show about dogs

The blonde from 2 Broke Girls, also stars in “The Neighborhood” on the CW. Can’t remember her name right now, but she’s a really sexy tall girl. Love the way she talks.

And Margot Robbie, from “Focus”, “The Wolf of Wall Street”, “Suicide Squad” and the latest “Barbie” movie… I love her accent as well. It’s almost innocently sexy, which comes as a surprise. Some of the most perfect white women. I consider them “Elite White Women”. Margot is one of my favorite actresses, along with Amanda Bynes, Miranda Cosgrove and Victoria Justice. There are many others, but those are some of my top favorites.

- MH (2023)

[09/21/2023 - 12:48PM] - Drafted

[09/24/2023] - Posted

#personal #mind #chicago #2023 #LilMark #PUNKAssMark #afr0-thunder

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

I will be starting season 2 soon! After I’ve finished season 1 of criminal minds. It would annoy me if I didn’t finish the season.

I did a little more writing this morning too. But now my brain isn’t working 😃 no words are wording.

What have you been drawing ? And watching tv with your dogs. Awwww. That’s adorable. Love it. Quality time! The best!! Was pebbles farting ?

I like Elle up to now. I wonder why they replaced her ? 🤔 Any clue ?

I’ve spotted that. He’s just cocky and has a good memory and that’s it. He also seems a bit of a dick. But I feel like i haven’t seen enough to get an impression of him fully. I’ll need to keep watching. He seems to be well liked by a lot of people… 👀

Good!! Lmaooo otherwise I’ll be up all night with a cross keeping the doll away lol. Though I don’t mind the Chucky doll for some reason, despite it being a literally murder. I do like the child’s play films.

That’s so annoying to. You have all these ideas and little notes to help but when it comes down to it, there’s no motivation. Or the words aren’t wording. Lol

My day has been good. Just been good shopping for the new fridge. So I got a few things I’ve been craving for the last couple of days. And then decided to go to the cinema. Had cinema popcorn and I feel like I’ve been robbed. And the tickets for the movie has gone up to! But I love the reclining seats in the cinema. And then my leg got assault by my male dog… absolutely RUDE.

I was gonna mention something but if I did it would expose who I am. Lmaoo

-🪐

yesssssss - you’ll have to wait and see why elle leaves 🤭🤭

love that you seem to be kind of agreeing with me about spencer - i don’t understand why the fan base is IN LOVE WITH HIM i really really don’t get it 😠

i have a few drawings on the go but the one i’ve added to today is of robin from stranger things (hope you love her, she’s introduced in season 3)

surprisingly she was not farting lmao just snoring v loudly

chucky is hideous and i refuse to watch the films

WHAT DID YOU SEE??

the reclining seats are great, i never buy food at the cinema, just a really expensive cherry pepsi <3

literally like £4.50 wtf

i didn’t laugh at the dog assaulting your leg, i promise

MENTION IT

EXPOSE YOURSELF (not in a perv way)

#🪐 anon

[ppascalsstuff]

Eres un asqueroso [Frankie Morales x f! reader]

Summary: you are in bed with Frankie when you hear an unmistakable sound.

Warnings: fluffy, slightly smutish, MINORS PLEASE DNI. 

A/N: just leaving this here...  English is not my first language, sorry in advance if there’s some typos or grammar errors.

Word count: ≈700

The book feels heavy in your hands and your eyelids decide to stop following your orders, closing every time a paragraph ended. The Monday blues had been especially strong today, and you almost didn’t make it out of bed if it hadn’t been for Frankie, who had made you a delicious breakfast and some tea to help with your cramps, leaving it on your bedside table before returning to the kitchen to prepare the pancakes.

You decide to close the book. Concentration is not on your side tonight and it’d be a shame to waste the lovely words the author took the effort to write just because you’re not in the mood.

“Maybe tomorrow”, you think as you leave the book on your bedside table, dog-earing the page so that you don't forget to give it a try tomorrow.

“Not feeling it today?” the husky voice behind you makes your heart clench with affection immediatly.

“Nope” you say as you roll over and lie on your side, looking at Frankie.

His glasses slide down his nose, and with a firm finger he puts them back on the bridge of his nose. His face is scrunched up with concentration, lips slightly parted and his messy hair pointing  in different directions. You trail your gaze from the broadness of his shoulders to his partially covered chest. The white v neck he’s wearing is worn out, the neckline stretched, and you can see the freckles covering his collarbone and neck, Your mouth waters at the thought of kissing all his body.  

Then you hear it: an unmistakable sound muffled by the sheets.

“Sorry babe” Frankie apologies without looking at you, focusing on the book he’s reading.

“Did… did you just fart?”

Frankie nods trying to hold back a smile before a pillow hits his head.

“Oh my god, FRANCISCO!” you shout as you get out of bed, opening your nightstand drawer and looking for one of your favourite candles.

“Come on babe, it wasn’t that bad”

“Eres un asqueroso” (You are disgusting)

Frankie’s laugh fills the room. He can’t believe you are looking for your candles because he farted on bed.

“Cariño… come on” he says giggling and tries to reach your hand, but you quickly push it away.

“And I can’t even open the windows because it’s late” you mumble, making him laugh harder.  “This isn’t funny. No wonder why they call you Catfish”

Frankie can’t hold it anymore. He takes off his glasses and brushes away the tears that are now falling down his cheeks. Maybe it’s because it’s late and his brain isn’t lucid anymore, but he can’t stop laughing at your reaction and the fact that he just farted. He feels like a 5 year old who had discovered a new bad word, but it’s this kind of moments that make him realize how much he loves you and how much he could lose. If he could, he would put all the moments you’ve made him happy in a jar, so he could cherish them in the future and don’t forget them.

“Come back to bed, please”

“No way I’m getting in. That’s a nuclear weapon right now”

Frankie burst out laughing again as his tummy shakes under the covers.

“Baby stop please, I’m gonna pee myself”

“Now he’s going to pee himself” you tease. “How you made me fall in love with you is still beyond me”

“I think my cock might have helped” he smiles at you, face flushed.  

You can’t help but chuckle as you get in the bed, the adrenaline of the moment leaving your body exhausted.

“So all I had to do was mention my cock and you’d have come back to bed?” now it’s Frankie’s turn to tease. He starts to leave little kisses on your neck, traveling all the way down to your collarbone and lifts your shirt to expose your breast. The cold air hits your skin and you feel his hot breath over one of your tits, giving you goosebumps.

“I swear to God Francisco, if you fart-” you run your fingers through his hair as he kisses your nipple.

“I won’t”

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier

[goshikitsutomusmommy]

“Incorrect Quotes with Haikyuu Boys„

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10

Synopsis : Different Quotes From Brooklyn-Nine-Nine as Haikyuu Characters

Genre : Comedy

Pairing(s) : Atsumu x reader , Nishinoya x reader , Shirabu x reader , Oikawa x reader

Word Count : 1.03k

Warning(s) : She/her pronouns used , slight violence , suicide mentioned once , eating disorder undertones

Masterlist Link : Here

*Inarizaki manager in this*

Ginjima : Dance with me, Tsum-tsum.

*Whatta Man by Salt ’N’ Pepa’s starts playing*

Atsumu : Ha! No, and a will never dance to that song.

[Name] : Way to go, Tsum-tsum, *Throws a bunch of colorful thumbtacks*.

Ginjima : Whoa!

Atsumu : Are those thumbtacks? What the hell, [Name]?

[Name] : I thought they’d make good confetti.

*Nekoma manager in this*

[Name] : We’re supposed to die together— me in a big explosion, and you committing suicide at my funeral out of respect!

Lev : I know!

*Karasuno manager in this*

[Name] : *Peacefully doing manager duties*.

Nishinoya : *Startling her*, Hands up, [Name].

[Name] : *Quickly put him in a headlock*.

Nishinoya : Hey— no, no, no— It’s Noya! Your boyfriend!

[Name] : Aww, boyfriend.

Nishinoya : *Still in a headlock*, Yeah. Can you release me now?

[Name] : Oh, right! Yeah!

*Shiratorizawa manager in this*

[Name] : That is so cartoony, thumbs down.

Shirabu : What does that even mean?

[Name] : The human languages cannot fully capture the depth and complexity of my thoughts, so I’m incorporating emoji into my speech to better express myself. Winky face.

Shirabu : Oh, god.

*Inarizaki manager in this*

Atsumu : Look, let’s just agree to say “I’m sorry.” on the count of three. One, two, three.

[Name] : *Unimpressed silence*, ...

Atsumu : See? Now, I’m just disappointed in both of us.

*Shiratorizawa manager in this*

Shirabu : Coach asked us to stay after school for extra practice. I had plans tonight!

Reon : It’s okay, you can reschedule your plans.

[Name] : Mhmm, or you could just lie to coach. That’s my policy for everything and it always works.

Shirabu : I’m not gonna lie. I’ll just tell the coach that I have important plans, and he’ll understand.

[Name] : Mm-kay! But, if you do lie! You can’t go wrong with dental emergency. Or death of a triplet. Now that one you can use twice! Haha, smart!

*Later that morning*

Shirabu : My apologies, but I don’t think I’m gonna be able to be at practice today.

Coach Washijou : Why is that?

Shirabu : ... Dental emergency. I’m getting my wisdom teeth pulled.

*Shiratorizawa manager in this*

*Semi, Shirabu, and manager try dieting together*

Part 1/4

Goshiki : *Accidentally bumping into manager and making her drop her food*. I’ll get that for you, [Name]-San! *Misplacing his feet and stepping on the food*, Oops!

[Name] : *Screech*.

Goshiki : Butter feet— sorry about that!

[Name] : Sorry? You bumbling son of a bitch! You just ruined my life! I hope you get hit by a truck and a dog takes a dump on your face!

Semi : Nothing to see here— just a little hypoglycemic rage. Move along!

[Name] : I’m so sorry, Goshiki! That’s not me, I’m never like this!

Goshiki : It’s okay! It was my fault, I shouldn’t have bumped your cashew.

[Name] : Cashew? It was almond, you idiot!

Semi : Shirabu, get your girlfriend.

*Shirabu stepping in and dragging her out*

[Name] : I hope you drown in a tub! I hope you have aneurysm after aneurysm after aneurysm!

Part 2/4

Semi : Where is she?

Shirabu : She went outside like, 20 minutes ago.

*Both of them leave the school gym and follow a trail of burger wrappers they see on the ground*

Semi : [Name], where are you? It’s cantaloupe time!

[Name] : *Chewing two burgers at a time*.

Semi : [Name]! Stop! It’s not too late.

[Name] : I failed, Semi-San! This is my second burger!

Shirabu : ...

[Name] : Okay, I lied! This is my fifth!

Semi : You both betrayed me!

Part 3/4

[Name] : Please eat, Semi-San. You look weak.

Semi : I’m fine! I’m stronger than ever! Watch this, *Heads to a car and desperately attempts to lift it*.

Shirabu : Semi-San, what are you doing?

[Name] : No, no, no, no, no... No!

Semi : See? I’m fine! *Stomach gurgling sounds*.

Shirabu : What is happening?

Semi : Just a tummy gurgle, diet messed up my system... Oh no... *Farting sounds*, Go back inside! *Groaning*.

[Name] : Are you talking to us, or the fart?

Part 4/4

*Semi sulking whilst sitting on the bench*

[Name] : *Milkshake in hand*, Why the long fart? Oh, I meant ‘face’. Why the long face?

Semi : Keep walking, [Surname].

[Name] : Okay, but this is really good, *Shaking milkshake*.

Shirabu : *Nodding whilst eating his chips*.

[Name] : Listen. Shh. Shh. Listen. *Loud slurping sounds*.

Semi : That’s it! I give up!

Shirabu : Why do you care so much about this diet? You’re in perfect shape.

[Name] : Mhmm, amen!~

*Aoba Johsai manager in this*

Part 1/4

Coach Irihata : The good news is, if you go and apologize right now, he’ll let the whole thing go.

[Name] : Fine, I’m great at apologizing. I’m a very sweet person. *Walks out the room and pushes Kindaichi out of the way*.

Kindaichi : Ohh!

[Name] : Out of my way, dork.

Part 2/4

Coach Irihata : How is your apology to Oikawa going?

[Name] : I’ve been working on a letter to send to him

Coach Irihata : Yes... I saw a draft of it on the bench.

[Name] : What did you think?

Coach Irihata : It was so horrifying, I had to destroy the whole pad.

Part 3/4

[Name] : Oikawa, I came here to say I’m sorry.

Oikawa : Oh, good! Go ahead.

[Name] : No, that was it. I did it, I said “I’m sorry.” Hey I said it again. Now I got one in the bank, so I can do whatever I want to you.

Oikawa : What are you even sorry for?

[Name] : Come on, man. I said the words. I paused afterwards. I even averted my gaze to make you feel like the alpha.

Oikawa : Yeah, but you didn’t mean it! I’d like you to apologize like you mean it.

[Name] : Fine. I’m sorry you screwed up my entire day. I’m sorry you’re a terrible volleyball player. I’m sorry for your goat face, rodent brain, and your weird goose body. I meant all of that.

Part 4/4

[Name] : Hey, Oikawa. I’m sorry for making fun of you in front of everybody... And also for making fun of you behind your back.

Oikawa : Didn’t know you did that, but thank you for the apology, [Name]-Chan!

[Name] : I’m not done. Also, sorry for making fun of you during my book club. Those people don’t even know you. That was uncool.

Author’s Note : I think it’s very obvious that I was in a mood to write for Shirabu JANDKDJXEN, I just love him Sm and he’s so underrated— OH AND THANK YOU FOR 20 FOLLOWERS, THIS MEANS SMEJDENDN ILYYY

#haikyuu x reader #Inarizaki manager #Inarizaki x reader #atsumu x reader #Oikawa x reader #Oikawa Tooru #Tooru oikawa #Miya atsumu #atsumu Miya #aoba josai x reader #shirabu x reader #shirabu kenjirou #Shiratorizawa x reader #shiratorizawa manager #nishinoya x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu incorrect quotes #b99 incorrect quotes #susss. writes #hq x reader #aoba johsai #haikyuu incorrect quotes x reader #noya x reader #karasuno x reader #karasuno manager #aoba johsai manager #seijoh x reader #seijoh x manager #haikyuu!!

[chrisevansluv]

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

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…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

[fluffy-lee]

Lesson Learned

Part 7 of the series Vacation

This is a TICKLE series

PLATONIC Avengers x reader

Warnings: Drama

Summary: Y/n returns to the cabin after her trip to Asgard. The reaction she receives from the Avengers surprises her, and one Avenger feels much different about the situation than the rest.

Thor opened the cabin door to see everyone, except Peter and Y/n, sitting quietly in the living room. They all jumped to their feet. 

  “Where’s Y/n?” Bucky asked, anxiously. 

  “She’s by the lake with Peter. She’ll be here soon.” Thor answered. 

  “Bucky, are you going to punish her?” Steve asked.

  “For what?” 

  “Oh I don’t know… GOING OFF TO ANOTHER REALM WITHOUT ASKING?” Steve spat. 

  “She had my permission. I wouldn’t have taken her if it wasn’t completely safe.” Thor added. 

  “You cannot honestly say that it was completely safe.” 

  “With me? I can honestly say that. If you think I would put Y/n in any harm-” Thor, angry, got very close to Steve. 

Steve didn’t show any sign of yielding. 

  “Would you two back down? I can handle this. She’s my daughter.” Bucky snapped, rolling his eyes. 

  “I’m going for a drive. Alone.” Steve sighed, grabbing the keys and leaving through the front door. 

…

  “Oh man, Peter, I’m afraid I am going to be in so much trouble.” You said, walking next to him down the trail back to the cabin. 

  It was getting dark and you and Peter had just had a major heart-to-heart. You felt so open and close with each other now, and you couldn’t be happier because of that, but you were afraid you had disappointed the Avengers, especially your dad. 

  “I don’t think you should be so scared. Thor was with you. I don’t see the harm done.” Peter assured you. 

  You finally made it to the back door. You gave Peter a nervous look. He gave you an encouraging smile and nodded. You smiled back and opened the door. 

 As you scanned the room, your eyes met Thor’s, Wanda’s, Vision’s, Pepper's, Tony’s, Natasha’s, Sam’s, and finally Bucky’s, but not Steve’s, which worried you immediately. You sighed and looked at the ground and then back up into Bucky’s eyes. 

  “I am so sorry.” You said sincerely. 

Bucky walked toward you, and placed his hands on either side of your arms. 

  “I’m so glad you’re back safe. You look like a princess. You are so beautiful. You always are, but wow! Did you get this dress on Asgard?” Bucky asked. 

  “Yes.” You whispered, surprised by his reaction. “You have every right to be mad at me right now, Dad.”

  “I know.” Bucky answered. “But, I’m not. I’m kind of excited for you. You got to do something really amazing, and you are so brave.” 

  “I’m not brave.” You grumbled, pushing his hand off your shoulder and going to sit on the couch. “The whole reason I left was because I was too afraid to face my emotions head-on. I didn’t use my head.” 

  “I know.” Bucky said. “But the point is, you came back! The same day, too!” 

 You looked up at him in disbelief. How could he not be mad?

  “Thor told us everything, Y/n. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of better help.” Tony apologized, sitting next to you. 

 You leaned on Tony, sadness still on your face. 

  “You helped.” 

  “It’s okay, Y/n. You aren’t in trouble.” Bucky affirmed. 

  “Thank you. To be quite honest, even if I was in trouble, I wouldn’t regret going. I’m really happy I went, because it helped me, and it was an incredible experience, but I do regret not telling anyone or asking.” 

  “Then that’s all that matters.” Bucky said, sitting on the other side of you. 

Everyone nodded in agreement with Bucky. 

You jumped into his arms and hugged him, and he hugged you back tight. 

  “Now please, tell us everything!” Wanda begged. 

You smiled at her and jumped to your feet in the middle of the living room in front of everyone, ready to tell them everything. 

  “SO. Thor lifted his hammer and the next thing I know-” You began excitedly, going into every detail, gushing over the experience. 

Everyone smiled, eagerly listening, as you stood in your stunning purple dress telling them the story. 

  Thor leaned against the wall, beaming with pride. He really loved you and he was proud that he helped you and you were yourself again. 

 Peter smiled too. He sure was glad you two were on even better terms now than you had ever been. He watched you, his best friend, describe the golden city. You saw him flash a smile at you. 

…

  You came down the stairs in your pajamas and once again, BAM! You knocked into Peter. He caught you before you fell back. 

  “How many times are you going to do that, Y/n?!” Peter exclaimed, lifting you up baby style in his arms. 

  “Oh I don’t know I’m so- AHH AHAHAHA!” You were cut-off by your own laughter, when Peter had blown a big raspberry on the front of your neck. 

 When he stopped, you caught your breath, definitely taken by surprise. 

  “Hehehe! I LOVE this new secret spot I’ve found.” Peter said evilly. 

You blushed. 

  “Can we keep that a secret? Please?” You asked. 

  “I don’t know… You worried me quite a bit today…” Peter trailed off teasingly. 

  “Please, Peter?” You begged. 

  “Fiiine.” He sighed, putting you down. 

  “Thank you!” You said, lifting your chin to him with a smile. He mocked your expression.  

  You walked back into the living room and you found yourself suddenly being tackled to the carpet. 

  “WOAH! WHAT?!” You exclaimed, surprised. You looked up to see Bucky hovering over you. 

  “Oh yeah, remember when I said not to cross me again?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth. 

You knew he was playing, but you were scared. 

  “Aww man.” You whined, eyes squeezed shut and shaking your head. 

  “You think I was gonna let you off that easy, hmm?” Bucky teased more.  

 You bit your lip with a smile. “Kinda!”

  “You’re so cute. You get that from me.” Bucky boasted, wiggling his fingers in your ribs. 

Giggles began to bubble through your lips as soon as his fingertips made contact with your sensitive rib cage. 

Bucky pressed his nose to yours, squinting a smile as he tickled your ribs. 

He loved the sound of your laughter. It sounded just like his little sister, Rebecca’s. He missed her dearly, and hadn’t seen her since he left to fight in the war. The first time he saw you, he immediately saw his sister in your face and physique. He thought you looked like him too. You had his eyebrows, smile, and according to Steve, his exact facial expression. Bucky guessed everything else was from your mother, but he didn’t remember what she looked like. The main thing though, he couldn’t believe you were his. 

  You blushed and soon found yourself laughing harder as he snuck his hands under your arms, digging in. You arched your back in laughter and began to scoot back out from under him in an attempt to escape the unbearable tickling. You were successful for just a moment before Bucky gripped your ankle. 

  “Where do ya think you’re goin’?” He growled, pulling you back to him. 

  “I CAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IHIHIHIT!” You shouted, before falling back into your uncontrollable laughter as Bucky wiggled his fingers all over your belly. 

  “Can’t take what?” He asked teasingly. 

  “Dahahaddyy! Thihihis!” You cried. 

  “What’s this?” He teased more. 

  “You knohohow!” You squealed as you felt Bucky’s large hands wrap around your sides, squeezing and wiggling his fingers into the skin. 

  “Ooooh you mean me tickling you? You love it when I tickle you! You should be thanking me!” 

Your face turned cherry red and your laughter fell silent as his fingers surprised you by dancing around your neck. You always found your neck being tickled so unbearable. You pushed at his hands to get them away so you could breathe. Bucky got the signal and had some mercy on you. 

  “Ahahaha. Would you rather me ground you?” He asked, holding your hands to his chest. 

You gave him your famous puppy-dog eyes, and shook your head “no.” Bucky’s face fell a little at that. 

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’m just kidding.” He reassured you. He noted how scared you were to get in trouble with him. 

 You relaxed a bit, catching your breath. You watched as his lips turned to a sly smirk. 

   “This is waaaay worse!” He chuckled, lifting your shirt a little to reveal your tummy, and pinning your hands to your sides. 

  “OH NONONONO!” You screamed, unable to help the anxious smile on your face. You really did love when he tickled you. 

  “This is what you get!” Bucky sang with a smile, before blowing raspberry after raspberry right above your belly button. 

  “AHAHAHAAAAHA!” You scream-laughed.  

 Bucky looked up at you and raised an eyebrow at you, making butterflies rush to your stomach. You wracked your brain, trying to figure out what he was going to do now.

You were caught by surprise when you found yourself curling in to your right as Bucky blew an extremely tickly raspberry on your right side. You felt Bucky smile when he heard your classic belly laugh. He then began to blow more raspberries on your side.

…

  Steve walked through the front door of the cabin. He immediately heard your laughter and was well aware of what was happening. He just couldn’t help but grin at the sound of fart noises and his favorite laugh of yours. He could picture exactly what your face looked like, especially that cute smile. But he still wasn’t happy with you for going to Asgard. He found it reckless. He didn’t ever want you to go through such travel without him there to protect you. He knew Thor was perfectly capable, and he trusted him, but he still didn’t feel comfortable with it. 

  He walked through the cabin, past you and Bucky on the living room floor laughing, with the TV on in the background, past Wanda and Vision making dinner, out to the back deck where the rest were and joined them. 

  “I know it won’t do anything for you, but want one? Sam asked, offering Steve a beer. 

Steve nodded with a small smile and accepted. 

  “You still mad?” Sam asked. 

  “A bit, yeah.” Steve shrugged. 

  …

You never noticed Steve was home. You were too busy laughing in Bucky’s grip. 

Bucky came up from the raspberries and you couldn’t take much more, so you tried to charm your way out of the tickle attack by petting the side of Bucky’s face, but before you could say anything and make Bucky fall for your tactic, he playfully bit your hand and you squealed and laughed. 

 “Hey Y/n.” Bucky asked, teasing in his voice.

 “What?” You grumbled, rolling your eyes with a smile. 

 “Are your thighs ticklish?” 

 “OH NO OH NO OH NO!” You freaked out, desperately trying to escape. You didn’t stand a chance against your super soldier dad. 

 “Hehehe I know they are!” Bucky chuckled, squeezing your super ticklish thighs. 

Your laughter turned hiccupy as Bucky ruthlessly squeezed and scribbled your thighs. Gosh it tickled so much, you just had to lay there and take it. You were too tired to fight back at this point. 

  “Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle!” Bucky said through his smile. 

As much as you loved it, it tickled so bad that you just couldn’t stand it anymore. 

  “Shahahap!” You wheezed quietly. 

  “Oh alright!” Bucky chuckled, ceasing his tickles. 

You caught your breath and smiled shyly at him. Bucky squished your cheek with a kiss, making you giggle. 

…

 At dinner, you noticed Steve didn’t look at you or say anything to you. He definitely didn’t sit by you. He was totally avoiding you and it broke your heart. You didn’t know what to say to him. He had never been this mad at you before and you were afraid that he wouldn’t ever treat you the same again. You knew that wasn’t true, but still, he had never been this way to you before, and losing him was one of your biggest fears. You still tried to act normal and not let anyone see you were upset. Peter brought up you going to Asgard. 

  “Let’s not discuss that anymore for tonight.” You interrupted him, not rudely, Just calmly, cooly, and firmly. 

You and Steve made eye-contact for the first time since you got back. You saw how angry he was with you. You felt worse. You got up from the table and went to bed. You cried yourself to sleep. 

…

 You woke up at midnight. You saw Natasha asleep in her bed. You couldn’t go back to sleep. You just thought about Steve. Finally, you decided to go downstairs to get water, and you hoped you’d run into Steve. You had to try to make this right. You came downstairs and saw the kitchen light on. You slowly crept toward the corner and peaked around to see Steve at the kitchen table drawing. You chickened out, and turned and slowly crept back towards the stairs, until you heard Steve’s voice. 

  “Come back here, Y/n.” He said firmly. 

You slowly came around the corner and stood at the entrance of the kitchen, playing with your hands. 

  “Cloooser.” Steve ordered with a soft smile. His eyes were soft, too. Forgiving. 

You walked to him. He nodded, as a way of telling you to speak. 

  “You think Dad should’ve punished me?” You asked quietly. 

  “Well, you ran away, twice in a row.” He stated raising an eyebrow. 

  “I’m really glad he didn’t, even though I deserve it.” 

  “I think Bucky knows best. He’s your Dad. He is good to you. Do you think you will ever do something like this again? Be honest.” Steve asked. 

  “Absolutely not. I couldn’t do that to him ever again. Or you.” You answered. 

  “See?”

You nodded. 

  “I, on the other hand, think I taught you better than that. Didn’t I?” 

  “You did.” You said. 

  “Then why did you do that?” Steve asked. 

  “I was scared, but I wanted to handle the situation myself… and I felt reckless.” You admitted, a guilty smirk on your lips. 

  “Mhm. I knew it.” Steve sighed. He patted your back. “You should go back to bed. It’s late.”

You felt a pain in your chest at that. You turned around and headed back, but stopped in your tracks and turned around before you left the kitchen. 

  “Steve?”

  “Hmm?” He responded. 

  “You being mad at me… is the worst punishment I could ever receive.” 

Steve furrowed his brows at you with sad eyes. 

 “I shouldn’t have done what I did, but going helped me. I am glad I went. I learned. I never would’ve been brave enough to go if I didn’t have you. You’re the one who has taught me how to bring out my inner strength. You have helped me become an independent person. I know it’s taken a lot of work, too, so I am sorry if I disappointed you. But I must thank you, for not failing me.” You said passionately with tears in your eyes.

Steve leaned back in his chair as if he was in shock. He exhaled sharply. 

  “Come here, Y/n.” Steve sighed, opening his arms to you. 

You ran over and hugged him, comforted to be in his arms. You buried your face in his chest. Your tears stained his white t shirt. 

  “Are you still mad at me?” You asked, looking up at him. 

  “No.” He smiled. 

You smiled so big. You let out a little “yay” making Steve giggle and gently tickle under your arms, making you scrunch up and giggle. 

Steve stopped tickling you and turned serious again.

  “Y/n? Why didn’t you come to me with your problems? You and I are buddies. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t you know you can come to me with things like that?”

 “Well…” You thought for a moment. “Of course, I know that, but… you can be really protective, and I thought it would be a little… awkward.” You admitted bashfully. 

 Steve rolled his eyes and smiled. 

  “Come here.” He said, lifting you to sit on his leg. “You know what I would’ve told you?” There were those eyes again. 

You shook your head “no.” 

“I would’ve told you to talk to Peter, and take your time to figure things out, and I’d be here to help you if you needed anything.” 

  “I should’ve gone to you.” You sighed. 

Steve smirked, giving you teasing eyes. You blushed.

  “I’m glad you had this experience, learned something. I can’t protect you from everything. I am so proud of how strong you are, Y/n.”

 You hugged him. “I love you, Steve.”

   “I love you too, Y/n.” 

…

 You walked side by side with Steve up the stairs. 

  “I bet you’re glad I don’t like Peter that way.” You teased. 

  “He’s a good kid...” Steve trailed off, nodding with his eyebrows furrowed. Then he raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. I am glad.”

 “Over-protective.” You rolled your eyes, teasing him more. 

Steve gave you that look. You ran back down the stairs to escape what you felt was about to happen. Steve chased after you. 

  “Get back here, Y/n/n!” He boomed. 

You ran as quick as you could down the hall, but you soon found yourself being scooped up by Captain America. He carried you to the living room and threw you on the couch. You blocked your torso, expecting him to tickle you like he always does. 

 “You’re so sassy!” Steve scoffed, grabbing your ankle. 

  “Uh! You can’t just tickle me in the middle of the night!” You exclaimed.

  “Uh! Yeah I can!” Steve matched your tone, shrugging.

  “Well… dang.” 

Steve chuckled and tickled the bottom of your left foot driving you mad as you tried to kick and pull away. 

 “Ohohoho you’re not going ANYWHERE!” Steve exclaimed. 

Your laughter was music to his ears. He held your leg, so you couldn’t kick him and reached down to tickle your tummy with his other hand. He was able to cover most of your tummy with his one hand, which he found very convenient, because he could tell it tickled you like crazy, and boy, did it! You squealed and laughed. The cabin was big enough that no one would be able to hear you down in the living room, so no one could save you from the tickle monster himself, Steve Rogers. 

  “Ihiihihit’s too muhuhuhch, Steheheve!” You cried through your laughter. 

  “Awww does that tickle?” Steve teased, letting go of your leg to join his other hand to your tummy, extending his tickling to your ribs and sides. It was just too easy for him to make you laugh so hard, and he adored that. 

  You felt pathetic trying to fight him off, so you just wiggled around and laughed freely. He knew you loved it anyway. 

  “You’re just so ticklish, Y/n. I love that about you so much.” He mused, wiggling all ten of his fingers in your ribs and sides. 

Your laughter became hoarse and Steve knew you needed to go to bed, so he stopped, and lifted you up in his arms, causing you to flinch. 

  “I’m just lifting you up to take you to bed! ...What did you think I was going to do?” Steve interrogated you, biting his lip with an evil smile. 

  “Nothing!” You lied terribly. 

  “Did you think I was gonna… do… THIS?!” 

PFFFBBT!

Steve blew a giant, tickly raspberry on the side of your tummy, his beard tickling it even more. 

 You knew he loved you as much as you loved him. 

#marvel tickle #mcu tickle #marvel tickle fic #mcu tickle fic #steve rogers tickle #fluffy-lee #ticklish!reader #bucky barnes tickle

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

Hi um me again third time i think today that I’ve had an idea about Travis so I have had another one so Kenneth seriously hurts Travis like broken rib type of injured so the gang getts a very distressed Philip at there door and he tells them every thing and this is when they learn the extent of the abuse and it like hits them where they didn’t do anything to help even though they didn’t know and you can carry on from there with what you want to happen next but yeah this is probably gonna be my last idea for today goodnight

PLS WHY DID I JUST SEE THIS!!?!

YOUR BRAIN IS BIG AND MAGNIFICENT!!

Larry and Ash are physical people. They would run out to go beat up Kenneth (local teens beat up church priest). If Sal and the others can’t stop them in time!! We all know how easily angered Larry is if anyone is mistreated. Travis may be a bully but Larry is too much of a protector to leave anyone in that situation. Ash is just down to beat up an abuser.

Of course Sal is shocked that he was right. Something was wrong at home. Something was really wrong at home! Travis’ black eye made more sense. The times he’d quiet around certain adults. At first Sal had assumed other reasons, but knowing Kenneth, the main person they were suspecting of being in the cult. He would definitely focus on Travis. Especially if the damage is to the extent he’s in excruciating pain. They offer to take him to the hospital and Travis just screams to leave him alone. Ousting that the staff are in on it as well.

Todd is, of course pissed. After just connecting with Travis and getting him to be comfortable with himself, Kenneth ruins it and hurts him to this extent!? Neil is fuming! He is avidly against abuse and even more so child abuse.

I feel like, the best part is Philip would 100% rat out Kenneth to Larry and Ash. He would help them beat the shit out of that old fart. Sal would join in too. (lmao, the demon watching this and eating popcorn).

Travis getting swaddled and fussed over by Lisa. Crying in her arms when an adult genuinely cares for him. The demons so focused on Kenneth getting beat up that it forgets the whole plan. It goes to get its friends to watch Kenneth get curbstomped by some kids. The town gets terrorized by a murder of crows with glowing red eyes. They all just flock around to watch Kenneth get jumped.

Sal makes a verbal (VERBAL) deal with Red to destroy the cult. Red and the demons have fun terrorizing and eating the cult members. Sal makes a deal to go to therapy with Travis (he’s too afraid to go alone). Sal getting therapy and Travis getting a support dog for a severe case of ptsd that leads to panic attacks and physical shut downs. The occasional fainting spell after a severe amount of head trauma.

Larry makes it his personal mission to take Travis wherever he needs to go. Sal is still unlearning his fear of dogs (he can tolerate Travis’ support dog since the dog doesn’t acknowledge anyone but Travis, Larry and Lisa.) Larry getting big and beefy just to intimidate Kenneth from the damn driveway. Philip is clingy with Travis. He never feared like that until he saw so much blood and Travis was barely able to breathe.

Larry: come outside! We not gonna jump you!

Ash *with a gun* : uh huh. Just step outside Kenneth.

Anon I LOVE your brain!! I’ve been having a funk and you just got the brain BRAINING again!!!

#travis phelps #sally face #larry johnson #sally face au #sal fisher #ashley campbell #philip sally face #sally face todd #todd and neil #sally face hcs #Sal would be so scared seeing blood #this may actually trigger a memory of Kenneth being the one to kill his mom #the drama that would ensue #what if this is the same event that ruined his right eye? #like Philip falls into the gang with a horribly bloody Travis and his eye is so damaged they HAVE to take him to a hospital #the grief and distress would also warrant a breakdown of some kind

[highwaydiamonds]

.

I would like to blame my moods on hormones, but I no longer have the requisite ladyparts upon which i could blame the mood-inducing hormones. Though the ladyparts got chucked, the moods have managed to persist. Unfortunate that I wasn't able to excise those with the ovaries and uterus.

So yeah, today has not been the greatest day or two. Today I definitely had a case of the Sundays - you know, the existential dread feeling of , "Oh shit, it's Monday tomorrow and that means weekday stuff I don't wanna do." Whiich right now, for me is mostly exercising. I also have been terrible and not done any of the food log stuff I am supposed to be doing for my dietician. I know this is mostly because they're hard and make me examine things when I don't want to examine them... Which really just means I not only NEED to be examining them but ALSO examining why I don't want to examine them. So, how's them exhausting mental apples for you ( also me - because they are my exhausting mental apples after all.) Ugh. Guess I'll be talking to my therapist about that one :/ yay.

I just am feeling antsy and at loose ends. Not sure why exactly either. Maybe again it's the whole Sunday thing. I also kinda feel in need of some socializing but just with my own friends/ people, and that's not super easy for me to do. I'm fine on my own, but I get a little claustrophobic around some of the people I live with. They're lovely but sometimes I just find myself chafing at being around them... Like i want to be around people I want to be around them, and Betsy is not them. And with Ron coming back tomorrow morning - yeah well Ron is not them either. But it is what it is. I should just use it as fodder to remind me of my goals. Which means- do better with what I am eating and also do the food logs. And the exercise - even if you do not want to.

And legit I do not want to go to exercise tomorrow. I have been good and been going - but I am just feeling testy about tomorrow. I know I need to go, and I know I will be proud and happy I went after. And it will positively affect my blood sugar for over 24 hours after going so, yeah, I will go and once I get there it will be fine. This is one of those, " your brain is lying to you" moments. Where it's saying I don't wanna go, and the reality is yes I do wanna go because I like all the after effects and I just need to tell my brain ok whiny buttercup,, you have had your petulant session and now we're gonna put our big girl panties on and go anyway, ok? This is how we justify the nails girls, so..... We gotta do the sucky stuff.

Also, I think i am just still holding in some anger from last night. Bailey, one of the big dogs, got out of the front door and was lost for a while. Betsy was doing fuck-all when Gale was getting ready to leave after dinner and Betsy had the door open already. Betsy says that Bailey got out because Gale was fiddle-farting around and Bailey just zoomed out past her (Betsy). Gale said that it wasn't Betsy's fault. I call bullshit on that. Betsy knows better. This is not the first time this sort of thing has happened on her watch. There is an extra long lead kept at the door (on a hook outside) that you clip to bailey's collar so Bailey can go out onn the front lawn. Bailey would run off if she's not on a lead as there is no fence. And Bailey is a big dog - she can BOOK IT. Betsy should know to look out for Bailey and if she is anywhere near by to grab her collar. And if she thinks Bailey needs to go out - to grab Bailey and out her on the lead right away. But Betsy is LAZY with all the dogs and CARELESS much of the time as well.

So Bailey gets out and instead of trying to immediately find her keys she stands there yelling for Xiao ( her son) and Xiao does what he usually does when his mother yells, which is be as slow as humanly possible. I was on the toilet when Bailey got out, so I clean myself up as quickly as possible and run to ask what the emergency is - and Xiao still hasn't shown by this moment. When Betsy tells me, while still just standing by the door yelling for her son- I just go outside and try to yell for the dog but she's nowhere to be seen and I decide I need to go back in and get my car keys to drive and look for her. So I got to my car and Xiao, after an eon, shows up, and he and his mother get in a car as well. Gale leaves with us and she proceeds to also drive around looking for Bailey. (Ron,, Qiu Kui and Ray were all away for the evening so searching wasn't on them) After making a few swings around the streets I take a drive by the house and se Bailey in the yard. I go up to her and see someone had brought her back ad clipped her to her lead. I was SO relieved and I get her into the house. That night was cold - like around 20 degrees maybe? A neighbor comes to the door soon after I got her in and he said they had found Bailey in their yard - I apologized profusely and thanked him immensely. I then texted Xiao and Gale to update them. But I was FURIOUS. Fact of the matter is this would not happen if Betsy let the dogs out back. That yard is fenced. If she can't watch her dogs (usually the small ones) when they go out front and can't control the big ones when they get close to the front door then she shouldn't be letting them out there AT ALL. But she never listens and when she told the tale to Ron last night after it was over, Ron just said to hold on to Bailey's collar... Uh.. DUH?!!! Betsy shouldn't have to be told that. It's flipping obvious. Betsy thanked me a lot for helping, but it's not about that for me. Bailey is a lovely dog and I love her and I just detest how lackadaisical Betsy is about some things with her dogs. I was better today, but there is some residual anger left - I think that's easy to see here... And I just am not used to feeling angry like that.

OK, well it's uber late for me now - for a night where I have to get up early the next day... But I am hoping all this spewing will help me wind down better and let some of this stuff go. Blehhhhhhh remind myself like Jim Croce said, " nobody ever had a rainbow, baby, til they had the rain." So hopefully like Jim also said, "Tomorow's gonna be a brighter day."

#bleh #stuff and nonsense #also stuff about me #moody ranting - exorcising emotions - funtimes if that's your idea of fun i guess

[rukia-writes]

Hello! Hey! Hi! Hola! And other things!~ Anyway, uh, I have a really serious question. Like, it’s so serious that you’ll bawl your eyes out. But, uh, *ahem*, my gurl, my, like, *ahem*, like, BITCH... ...where is the Jean Kirschstein lie detector content? 😭 𝖐𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖎𝖓’𝖘 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ~ anon signiture

I got you say no more my friend 😭💙

Rukia-Writes: evening Jean.

Jean: evening. So it’s my turn huh?

Eren: 🍿 this is going to be a wreck, I can feel it.

Jean: you certainly can’t feel it in your flat ass.

Eren: my ass is my business horse face.

Levi: we haven’t started. We have not started yet. Please-

Interview begins

Rukia-Writes: is your name Jean Kirstein?

Jean: that’s right.

Rukia-Writes: You really jumped in height, Is it milk?

Jean: That and I had growth spurt I guess.

Rukia-Writes: You know you trended last week on Twitter with 103,000 tweets. How does that make you feel?

Jean: Happy. I’m glad I have so many fans.

Eren: You have some blind fans, wait until I make my debut.

Jean: I’m not worried.

Eren: 👀

Jean: 👀

Rukia-Writes: what happened when in eren’s dorm room when you guys got high that one time?

Eren: 💀

Jean: We had a bit too much and thought Eren’s s/o hairbrush was a porcupine.

Eren: 💀

Reiner: 💀

Connie: ha ha! We won’t do that again.

Levi:😔

Rukia-Writes: I have to ask, do you like girls with dark hair?

Jean: I mean, I like all girls. But yes that’s true.

Rukia-Writes: ..interesting 🤔

Rukia-Writes: do you have any naughty secrets we should know?

Jean: ...I don’t think so.

Levi: he’s lying.

Jean: what? No, I don’t do anything naughty. Not like Eren, Who has sex with his s/o in my bathroom.

Reiner: when?! No-

Connie: Eren. No-

Eren: how’d you find that out?

Jean: I heard you.

Eren: my bad.

Connie: was it the night when Eren’s s/o confessed she liked Jean first?

Jean: same night.

Rukia-Writes: is he telling the truth?

Levi: he’s telling the truth.

Rukia-Writes: give us a peek into your naughty nights Jean.

Jean: I haven’t had them.

Levi: lying again.

Jean: okay I’ve had sex in my s/o car.

Rukia-Writes: oh really? 👀

Jean: yes.

Levi: he’s telling the truth.

Rukia-Writes: Eren calls you horseface, the fans call now call you the sexy stallion, but what does your s/o call you.

Jean: daddy.

Rukia-Writes: you have a big dick?

Jean: sure do.

Rukia-Writes: is he telling the truth Levi?

Levi: he’s telling the truth.

Jean: 😊

Rukia-Writes: I think everyone wants to know how you like your eggs in the morning?

Jean: I prefer omelettes.

Rukia-Writes: the sugar daddy role? Do you think you could be one Jean?

Jean: Yeah, I could. I would take good of my sugar baby.

Levi: he’s telling the truth.

Rukia-Writes: I knew it. 💙

Rukia-Writes: have you ever... had a threesome.

Jean: No. I don’t share.

Rukia-Writes: is he telling the truth?

Levi: he’s telling the truth.

Rukia-Writes: Are you also a beyonce fan?

Jean: I like her, a great person. But I prefer Mariah Carey.

Eren: are you saying she’s better?

Jean: oh yeah.

Eren: take it back.

Jean: nope.

Eren: I hope you stub your toe. I hope you get a brain freeze. I hope when you go to sleep you get nightmares of my flat ass. I hope when you fart you get blown into space. I hope a Barbie doll comes alive and follows you every where. I hope you fall out the bed at night. I hope you bite your tongue. I hope you can’t fit into your favorite jeans. I hope when you get a cold your dick falls off. I hope when you get old your hairline is fucked up. I hope when you shit there’s no toilet paper. I hope when you get a bag of chips there’s nothing but air in that bitch.

Jean: I hope dogs bark at you. I hope you can’t find your car keys. I hope you fall on your flat ass one day. When pigs fly I hope you fly too. I hope when you get a Elmo doll it comes alive and karate kicks the hell out of you. When you go to get cookies out the cookie jar I hope there is no damn cookies. I hope when you open a soda pop it sprays you. I hope the next time you get high and you get the munchies there is no food in the cabinet. I hope when you go thru a drive thru they give you 10 drinks so you turn into a damn octopus, so you can hold your drinks. I hope when you decorate the Christmas tree you fall all up in that bitch.

Eren: fine, let’s go Jean.

Jean: let’s go Eren.

Jean: (Takes off his wires and the two fight)

Reiner:

Mikasa:

Armin:

Connie:

Sasha:

Annie:

Historia:

Colt:

Porco: 💀💀💀

Levi: 💀 💀

Zeke: why is my brother like this?

Rukia-Writes: that’s all for today.

✨Rukia-Writes✨

Jean’s score: truthful

#Jean takes a lie detector test

[miridiums-writing]

👉👈 congrats on your growth! Your an amazing blog and a great mutual

For the 200 event thing with soul mates how about undertaker with number 4, i think that would be pretty funny since he's all giggles and laughs

Thank you for the support I wouldn't have been able to do it without all my mutuals

Also this is adorable, Undertaker is just giggles

Hope you like it

THIS IS FOR MY 200 FOLLOWER EVENT

You never got old of your soulmates laugh, you heard it at least fourteen times a day. Sometimes it was just a small giggle, while other times it was great roars of laughter. Your day always seemed to get a little bit brighter after hearing your soulmate laughing. Often during their fit of giggles it caused you to laugh with them, whenever that happened you heard their laugh pause monetarily until they joined back in once more, like they wanted to hear your laugh too.

Whoever your soulmate was you knew when you met them you life was going to be one filled with laughter, and you were so ready for it.

Working under the Queen was a hard job in itself, now being asked to work with the Queens Guard Dog just made your job a whole lot harder. Although the Queen liked things to be neat and proper, not even she could beat Ciel when it came to pettiness.

So far you had spent the majority of today reminding yourself he is a child and that you cant strangle him. His butler Sebastian seemed to chuckle into his hand when that thought resurfaced itself, made you a bit worried he could hear your thoughts. Though that was a ridiculous idea, still, the butler did make you nervous.

It was as though Sebastian was watching you always in the manor, even when you couldn't see him.

Today the Queen had given Ciel a job to do, and he wanted you and Sebastian to come with him. This didn't worry you, what worried you was that now all three of you stood outside of an Undertaker shop. The shop gave of a chilling creepy vibe, you weren't sure you should enter.

Ciel stormed into the shop, calling for the undertaker as he made his way into the building, you and Sebastian trailed after the boy as he continued his calls. A giggle echoed in your head as one of the coffins opened revealing a man dressed in grey, a large hat atop his head with his long white hair obscuring his features. "What can I do for you today Ciel," the man said, stepping out of the coffin and going over to Ciel a grin spread across his face. " Do I finally have the pleasure of fitting you for one of me coffins today" Ciel simply looked at the man and sighed "No, that isn't why I'm here I wanted to talk to you about a case the Queen gave me"

The man shook his head, a giggle echoing around in your head once more. "You know the price" he said eerily. Ciel looked fed up "Y/N" Ciel said, turning to you and drawing the man's attention to your face "Me and Sebastian will leave, you have one chance to make him laugh" and with that Ciel and Sebastian left the undertaker shop with the man still grinning cheekily at you.

You stood for a minute racking your brain for a good joke "What do you call a cave man's fart?" You said looking into the man's mop of hair, looking for his eyes. His smile faltered a bit "I don't know dearie, what do you call it?" He was looking at you curiously now, waiting for the punchline of the joke. "A blast from the past" The parlor went silent for a moment, before the room was filled with his explosive laughter, echoing in your head. With a gasp you instantly recognized the laughter as your soulmates and stared at him accusingly.

As his laughter died down you look at you as you continued to stare. "What is it dearie?"

"Your my soulmate"

-----------outiside the shop---------

"So the queen requested you find her soulmate?" Sebastian asked his master, looking down at him as laughter continued to blast from the shop.

"Yes, I knew from the description only one man who laughs that much" Ciel looked back at the shop once more as the laughter came to a close "Lets go home now Sebastian" he said, turning away from the shop and allowing the two to talk in private

#black butler #black butler x reader #undertaker #undertaker x reader #black butler undertaker

[manicdragondreamgirl]

I haven’t had chemistry since like 2008, and I’m also an idiot who likes to make my friends upset, so I rated the periodic table in order to tilt my friends:

Hydrogen - this is like your childhood friend who has always been with you more or less and always will be down to get a drink and chill even tho you haven’t spoken in years. Solid bro imo 7.5/10

Helium - always down for a good time, even if probably created Alvin and the Chipmunks which in some places is considered a war crime. 4/10

Lithium - Gives me bitchy vibes and is flammable as fuck if I remember. Skinny bitch with an attitude 3/10

Beryllium - idk this sounds like a sailor moon villain lol for that it can have a 6/10

Boron - more like BORONG amirite ha ha wait no seriously I have no idea lol 5/10 clean neutral rating

Carbon - *screaming* 2/10 I will not be taking questions

Nitrogen - cool cool cool tight tight tight 9/10 Nitrogen just is the cool hot chick you wish you were

Oxygen - kid who takes up all the glory for the group project even tho you did all the work, 4/10 for natural charisma

Fluorine - lol what are you knockoff chlorine lmfao bitch 3/10 reminds me of the dentist

Neon - I can vibe with this boy for his contributions to signs which cause my eyes to scream 8/10 modernized Art Deco thanks you

Sodium - 10/10 this is me and I won’t be taking questions next element

Magnesium - magnesium is a close relative of magnificent and therefore I think the case is closed folks 9/10

Aluminum - 10/10 for providing a home to my Diet Coke addiction I’d be dead without you

Silicon - 6.9/10 :smirk:

Phosphorous - This has a very soundly name and it’s welcome to do that but idk, not a fan, seems like he’d be smelly, 2/10

Sulfur - 1/10 pretty sure that dog farts are purely comprised of this and as such if I was leaving negative ratings I would

Chlorine - 7.8/10 for being in pools so we could swim without brain eating amoeba in the south you a champ

Argon - he seems like a nerd jk this guy has a good color 9/10 for just being himself

Potassium - I hate bananas and this word gives me the physical sensation of biting into one but only by thinking of abstract letters and making them into something which we can nutrientise from bananas and to me that shit is bananas, b a n a n a s — 3/10 for making me sing hollaback girl thru adhd word association

Calcium - hm my brain went to mega milk so you get a 2/10 today bud I don’t make the rules

Scandium - pretty sure this is fake lol what’s next faxdium, e-Mailite and copinium? 5/10

Titanium - this song’s a banger and also is the only thing that lets me wear earrings 10/10

Vanadium - if your erection lasts for longer than like idk it’s supposed to then don’t take vanadium wait what do you mean it’s not an ED treatment 4/10

Chromium - decent bloke shame the browser eats all your memory 5/10

Manganese - if a weeb tries to tell me how to pronounce mayonnaise one more time... 1/10

Iron - excellent tool against the fey, in your blood, what a bro, 10/10 this bitch slaps

Cobalt - has a powerful energy; I respect him. 8/10

Nickel - if I had a nickel for every time someone made this joke lol 5/10 he’s doing his best

Copper - taste bad 3/10

Zinc - isn’t that the dude in the green tunic and white tights who saves premcess Lelda or something lol 7/10 those games are good

Gallium - seems like a prick 4/10

Germanium - sounds like a child pronouncing geraniums which are superior 3/10

Arsenic - bad vibes coach 1/10

Selenium - isn’t this just sailor moon lol 10/10 love this bitch

Bromine - farmine wherever you aremine - 9/10 I love a good bro

Krypton - he’s okay I guess 5/10

Rubidium - yet another Steven universe villain who will be redeemed I imagine 4/10 seems a bit dull

Strontium - I feel nothing when I see this lad’s name and that seems like a shame 1/10 I don’t like it

Yttrium - this is an atrium in Yharnam, or something 8/10 would love to sit in one and make contact with higher beings

Zirconium - oh wait THIS is the sailor moon villain from the dead moon circus! 9/10 I enjoyed that arc

Niobium - seems sassy, I like that in an element 7/10

Molybdenum - I hate this one, rancid. 1/10 for making me have flashbacks to difficult Ancient Greek vocabulary there is no fucking way that sound combination is anything but Beta and Delta borking and then Latin being like oh imma steal that

Technetium - 6/10 decent name but seems a bit forced

Ruthenium - 5/10 kindly old lady element I guess lol

Rhodium - 10/10 this ain’t my first rhodium babee this lad has good vibes what a name what a king

Palladium - 10/10 for making me think of paladins

Silver - 12/10 I’m breaking the rules for this silver is the best it is so cool and also it is the other best tool for dealing with supernatural creatures when iron has failed you highly suggest Even if I am extremely allergic to it going into my ears...wait hold on

Cadmium - 2/10 sounds like a total douche

Indium - 8/10, i just think it’s independent and neat

Tin - 10/10 good ear sounds when involving rain and roof shapes and automatically reminds me of Nora Jones’s come away with me album which is also 10/10

Antimony - 7/10 decent protagonist good name all around seems rad

Tellurium - tell ur mom what? That’s so early 2010s league of legends humor bro 2.5/10

Iodine - strikes fear in my soul from having it poured on my wounds but this is why I have more pain tolerance than god 5.3/10

Xenon - I think this is a declension of Xena warrior princess which is a win in my eyes, 8/10

Caesium - kind of has a cunty Latin name, 4.5/10

Barium - yeah boss, bury’im! 7.5/10 I love a good mobster gag

Lanthanum - A bit pretentious on the Tolkien spectrum sorry bud 3/10 sounds like you’d be the dickwad elf everyone hates

Cerium - 6.5/10 I like this one, gives me a clean vibe

Praseodymium - the fuck who sneezed all their alphabet soup onto the paperwork and called it an element Christ we can’t keep doing this 1.5/10

Neodymium - oh my god what did I just say 1/10

Promethium - thank Christ we’re back to greek 9/10 Prometheus was a Chad I could get behind

Samarium - 5/10 gives me boring wizard vibes

Europium - 4.5/10 don’t rename opium chrissake can’t take these nerds anywhere

Gadolinium - 5/10 it’s a starship knockoff but it’s trying to be bold with the G sound

Terbium - 2/10 I don’t vibe with this one

Dysprosium - sounds like an antidepressant that has a lot of shitty side effects 3/10

Holmium - sounds like someone anxious asking their beloved to hold them 8/10 I like hurt/comfort fics

Erbium - you can’t just describe something as herby you daft bastard 2/10

Thulium - sounds like a spell I like it 8.5/10

Ytterbium - macguffin in a shite sci-fi show that gets highly overrated because BBC produced it and superwholock stans emerge and go utterly feral 1/10

Lutetium - bards are an element I agree 10/10

Hafnium - sounds like a river (my dog) sound and has a cute vibe, I’d offer it head pats 7/10

Tantalum - noooo you can’t be sad yuor so sexe haha 6.9/10 tantalizing

Tungsten - 10/10 this is a lad with history

Rhenium - 5.5/10 it’s ok

Osmium - 4/10 I wasn’t a big wizard of oz fan

Iridium - 9/10 sounds like iridescent and that’s in my top 10 favorite words and concepts

Platinum - 10/10 best Pokémon game

Gold - 7.9/10 all that glitters and all but it’s still pretty on some people, silver is better tho

Mercury - yikes 8/10 so it doesn’t kill me

Thallium - sounds like the brother character in a ps4 exclusive western rpg that oddly falls under the radar in terms of reviews and gets shafted at awards for no reason 7/10 I’ll support you tho

Lead - 2/10 that’s gonna be a no from me dawg pretty sure I still have lead in my hands from stabbing myself with my mechanical pencils

Bismuth - 6/10 sounds good in mouth and reminds me of biscuits for some reason, I’ll take it

Polonium - to thine own self be true so stop trying to act like the arts don’t influence science jk pretty sure this is named for Poland but hey that’s where we get the Witcher so you get a pass 6/10

Astatine - 1/10 I don’t even know what you are

Radon - 7/10 this motherfucker knows his shit and how to party, rad is right

Francium - I bring you francium...and I bring you myrdurdium... 7/10 for a good vine

Radium - killed the video star probably 9/10 I can get behind her

Actinium - as opposed to passtinium I prefer actinium in the voice of writing 8/10

Thorium - overrated Norse god 5/10 because lightning is still cool

Protactinum - sounds like some pretentious condom brand 4/10 wouldn’t do it with a dude who bought these

Uranium - I always thought she was a hot sailor scout 10/10

Neptunium - same for her I knew they weren’t cousins you couldn’t lie to me 4kids 10/10

Plutonium - sounds like a macguffin unfortunately 5/10

Americium - I read this with a pivotal letter missing and nearly died, 7/10 for the laugh

Curium - 10/10 gives me Curie vibes and also reminds me of curiosity which reminds me of—[old yellered before the association could set in]

Berkelium - what I shout when I want Burke (fam dog) to slaughter innocents and raze territories 2/10 world was not meant to know his commands

Californium - 1/10 California is cool with geography but probs could stand to chill with the ego sorry to my friends in Cali

Einsteinium - 6/10 it’s alright but we’re really running out of ideas huh

Fermium - 3/10 this one is porny

Mendelevium - 1/10 my brain didn’t like parsing this and I stand by my earlier statement of running out of good names

Nobelium - 0/10 you didn’t name any noble gases this cowards this gas can’t be a noble oh wait it’s NOBEL I take it back 5/10 seems an alright chap

Lawrencium - fear the old blood my sorry dead hunter’s ass I’ll never get back my life from the hours I spent trying to beat this lava shitting bastard 2/10 for being a boss who eats Taco Bell specifically before being challenged to have fresh lava shit with which to punish you for having the audacity to exist in his space

Rutherfordium - my god what a snob 4.2/10 I respect him a little but only because he sounds like a right lad

Dubnium - DROP THE BASS 10/10

Seoborgium - not sure about this one but it can have a 7/10

Bohrium - as an American English speaker this sound combination makes my pathetic throat become a black hole as I try to properly create the sound of it 10/10 I love when my body becomes a massive void in the universe

Hassium - lazy 2/10

Elements 109-118 can go fuck themselves I hate them all, collective 6.66/10 for their general demonic vibe

#the periodic table #made by an idiot #it’s me your manic dragon dream girl #long post

[romioneficfest]

Put a sickle in the swear jar

Title: Put a Sickle in the Swear Jar Prompt/Day: Day 11- St Mungo’s Tumblr name:  Rating: PG Brief summary: Ron is having one of those days… (bit of a post-Hogwarts domestic day in the life) Any possible triggering/warning tags: one bad swear, blood, allusions to Ron and Hermione doing it.

Ron let their dog Chudley into the back garden, then collapsed onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. The shop had been unaccountably busy for a Thursday, and almost half their staff were out sick with Fwooper Flu, including George. He had a few investor meetings, a Ministry contractor for their Defense products, and had to simultaneously man the floor of their flagship shop so it wouldn’t be a complete disaster when his meetings convened.

As it always was when a shop was lean staffed, his work shift produced the worst customers in the world. Each was ‘talk to the manager’ types: high maintenance and generally unpleasant.

The very worst was a dad who had let his terror of a four-year-old go wild through the shop. He started his visit by setting off five decoy detonators in the potions aisle, then poured love potion into the pygmy puff enclosure, and ended it by licking the outside of the glass case full of sweets.

The kid’s dad had a ‘never tell your child the word no’ policy in place. He made quite a stink when Ron dared to use the dreaded word to his child when the blighter sprinted around the shop and nearly toppled a full display case of fart sprays. Ron was only lucky they had left the shop by the time his meetings started.

He had to do his meetings on the sales floor, but it gave him a chance to show off a new prototype. He set the Secrecy Spellorator down and it created a field about two meters wide where no one could hear them ‘plan mischief.’ It even turned the volume down to noises outside the field ‘so as not to distract you from your pranking plans.’ Ron explained its alternative uses for Defensive magic and overcrowded offices, and given the way their eyes lit up, Ron could tell the pitch had gone well.

Now all he wanted was some beer or a long nap, neither of which he had proper time for. He needed to pick Hugo up from school and figure out something for dinner. He languidly pulled his arm up to catch the time. Ugh, five minutes more and he might be late.

He slumped up the steps, changed from business robes into his much preferred Muggle clothes, and let the dog back in, before Apparating a few streets away from Hugo’s school. When he arrived, a few of the mothers were gathered and chatting about an upcoming event.

Maybe if he looked busy they wouldn’t try to rope him in… He fished in his pocket for his sporadically used mobile, but realized he’d forgotten it at home.

In moments he was surrounded.

“Ron! We were just talking about you! Weren’t we, Claire?”

“Yes!” she answered with an enthusiastic clap of her hands. Whenever they were talking about him it usually meant manual labour was needed. “We’re doing a school fundraiser the fifteenth and could use your help setting things up. Also, could you bring your bakewell buns? We’ve all been simply craving them since last year!”

His brain went horribly blank of excuses, but he was saved from having to answer by his son.

“Dad!” Hugo cried from across the schoolyard, a giant grin splitting his freckled face. Ron waved at him but blanched when Hugo started running. His overly large backpack wildly swang from one hand, while his puffy jacket flailed like a flag caught in the wind from his other. Ron could see disaster looming.

“Don’t run, Hugh!” Ron hollered. As if time had slowed he watched in horror as the strap of Hugo’s backpack caught his foot, sending the seven-year-old flailing. Normally Ron could have prevented a painful crash with his wand, but with all the mums about him he couldn’t pull his wand out in time.

Hugo face-planted straight into the ground, his giant thud pulling a chorus of high-pitched gasps from the mothers.

Ron sprinted to his son who was whimpering and not moving.

“Shhh now, you’re okay, little man,” Ron said, trying his best to sound calm as he removed the backpack from around Hugo’s ankle and turned him over.

“Oh shit!” Ron let out. His son’s large brown eyes filled with tears, and his mouth overflowed with blood. His chin looked to be split open as well. “Merlin! Er, okay, Hugh, we’re gonna get you to a healer, but I need to carry you ‘round the corner so the Muggle mums don’t see us Apparate, okay?”

“You- you g-gotsta put a sssickle in the sssswear jar,” Hugo managed to lisp, before breaking into a wail as he saw the blood hit the ground.

Ron scooped up his son, somehow managing to hold the backpack and jacket as well.

The mums all had a variety of questions as he tore down the street, but he simply yelled over his shoulder that his car was round the corner. Checking about him, he Apparated them to St Mungo’s waiting room.

He vaguely recognized the lady behind the check-in desk. Her glare jogged his memory. He might’ve yelled at her a year or two prior…

“My- my son. He fell, and —”

Her glare softened after noticing Hugo’s cries and the blood soaking through Ron’s jacket. Cleared of blood by the healers Ron was infinitely grateful to not be Muggle. Chipped teeth, split lip and lacerated chin… The kid was a mess! Hugo was healed in just a few minutes, leaving him with only a small plaster for his chin he’d need with a topical ‘scar-begone’ potion for a few days.

“Do you have any plasters with brooms on them?” Hugo asked, feet kicking against the exam table.

The healer shook their head.

“Trains?”

“Just beige, I’m afraid,” the healer said with an apologetic smile.

“Dragons?”

“Hugo, we have some at home,” Ron said, knowing Hugo would continue to name things if he wasn’t stopped. “Plus we have some ice cream with your name on it!”

Hugo let out a cheer. They took the Floo home, as Ron was far too tired and rattled to be Apparating with his son.

Ron and Hugo were working on their second helpings of ice cream when Hermione arrived home via Floo.

“Hello boys,” she said, before stopping in her tracks. “Ice cream? Ron, it’s not even five-thirty!”

“We deserve it, believe me.”

“We deserve it, Mum!” Hugo repeated, with a chocolate smeared grin. “Believe me!”

Ron told her about the day they’d each had, and Hugo was happy to inform her how ‘Dad hadn’t put his sickle in the swear jar yet.’ He also was in dire need of a better plaster for his chin.

By the end of the tale she had a cautiously amused look on her face, and went to get their boxes of plasters.

“Okay, Hugo, looks like we have trains or dragons.”

“Both!”

“Choose one.”

“But Mum, I deseeeerve it, believe me!” Hugo said, a pleading look on his face.

She and Ron traded smiles over his curly head.

“Just today, because you were so brave at the hospital.”

“Gryffindor!” Hugo declared, before running after the dog, two plasters on his chin.

“How are you after all those adventures?” she asked, cuddling into Ron’s side.

“Better now that you’re home,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “You okay with ice cream for dinner?”

“Not my first choice, but I’ll manage.” She smiled at him. “Ginny should have Rose back from Quidditch practice soon.”

“Can I feed her ice cream too?” he moaned, closing his eyes.

“You don’t have to. She’s eating with Ginny and the kids.”

“Thank Merlin, because I feel like I’ve been pulled through a keyhole backwards.”

“Oh, I guess that means we can’t…” Hugo ran by and Hermione stopped herself. “Can’t ‘you know,’ tonight.”

“Can’t… Oh right! That!”

He felt a bit chagrined that they had to schedule it ahead, but the past few weeks hadn’t allowed for much spontaneity.

“Honestly…” he sighed, before looking sideways at his beautiful wife and slowly smiling. “I’ll manage.”

“We deserve it,” she grinned.

“It’ll be boring and passionless,” he teased, leaning in to plant a kiss on her neck, lingering a bit too long.

She shivered in pleasure. “Of course.”

“You won’t even have to put a silencing spell up,” he said before kissing her more deeply. “Over in five minutes.”

“I’ll prepare myself for the disappointment,” she purred. “Twice.”

“Twice?” he asked with a disbelieving look. She stared at him quite seriously before she broke and began laughing.

“Can you imagine?” she giggled.

“After the day I had?”

“On a school night?”

“Twice?!” they repeated, laughing and snorting,

There came a great crash from the other room. Hugo shouted ‘I’m ok!’ while Chudley barked. Ron began to get up, but Hermione pulled him back down to the couch.

“Don’t forget to put a sickle in the swear jar,” she said as she rose, going to check on their chaotic son.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated PG #cw: #cw: blood