#maybe this doesn't even need saying but.... like this is why i can't go in the tags! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grandlinedreams · 11 hours

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|| this man is an exposed live wire in my brain ok

|| notes: uhh prequel to [this] and [this], semi Canon compliant, pre-s1 but mentions of pre-war Cooper, I love the dynamic 😔👌✨️

|| warnings: hopefully IC Cooper, asshole x asshole dynamic we love to see it, weapons/supply dealer!reader, Canon typical violence, mention of blood/reader is injured kinda, spoilers? Abt Cooper's backstory, kinda enemies to friends/lovers

He doesn't know why he's here.

No, that's a lie ㅡ he does know why he's here, he just doesn't want to admit it. To himself, or to anyone else, for that matter. That he needs help.

Those fancy little bullets for his gun are hard to come by, few and far between when he can't get them by looting and places like Ma June's enjoy extorting as much as they can for so very little.

There's a difference between business transactions and highway robbery, even now. Which is why he's here ㅡ he'd gotten talk about a place that sold weapons and weapon-related supplies at a fair rate, and necessity had made him swallow his pride to go and find out for himself.

Which is why he's not just turning around and fuckin' leaving.

The building is crammed between two others, as ramshackle as the rest being made of recycled tin and wood that's rotted by time and rain in places, but still suggests a stability that won't crumble if somebody breathes too hard on it.

Cooper's spurs jingle as he walks, lost momentarily to the chime of something over his head when he pushes the door open. He looks up, forehead creasing.

Is that a bell?

Rusted but still in working order, it clatters again when he shuts the door, looking around. It's about as put together as any other kind of shop, an eclectic organization to it ㅡ a couple of rifles, a pistol or two, along with an admittedly impressive assortment of knives ㅡ but it's the shine of something on the floor that makes Cooper stop.

His head cocks as he studies the stain, the still-slick shimmer to it that makes him crouch and drag two gloved fingers against it, studying the residue. Coppery, with a hefty dose of some kind of chem to clean it, but still unmistakable ㅡ blood.

Well damn. He doesn't know what's happened here and he's pretty sure he doesn't care to, much beyond the fact that if the runner of this place is dead, that puts a damper on things. Or maybe not ㅡ if nobody's here, what's to stop him from taking what he wants?

"If you're thinkin' of stealing," comes a call that snaps his head up as it echoes from further back in the building, "I'd advise you not to. Less you wanna meet your maker, then I'd be happy to assist."

It's a flat bravado that both amuses him and piques his interest, and he leans against the counter to rap his knuckles. "Not stealin'," he drawls, "just wonderin' what kind of business model you've got if you make customers wait."

"The kind where patience is still a virtue, that's what." Foosteps, unhurried ㅡ and then Cooper is staring at you as you round the corner. You've got a jumpsuit of some indistinguishable color opened to rest around your hips, dingy tank-top underneath ㅡ and a stimpak in your hand. No doubt for the mess of your other arm, bicep wrapped with gauze that's already seeped into a bloom of bright red.

Well now. Cooper wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but you still manage to surprise him. Enough that he's staring, which makes you scowl.

"I know that look," you challenge, "if you think I'm easy picking, you'll get a new place to breathe from, courtesy of the hole I'll put in your head."

Cooper's head cocks. "Well now sugar," he says, "that's not very nice now, is it? Wasn't even thinkin' of that." He turns, jerks a thumb at the half-assed cleaning of the mess on the floor. "That's your doin', I reckon."

You nod. "Don't get trouble much," you say, "but when I do, I make sure to prove a point." You jam the stimpak into your arm, and he watches the tension melt from your shoulders. "Now, what can I do for you besides point out the exit?"

Well damn, Cooper thinks again. You've got a pretty face, but it's at odds with the attitude coming from that nice little mouth of yours. About as welcoming as a rattlesnake and probably just as quick to anger, from the way you bristle as he eyes you.

"Need supplies," he says, and you snort.

"What a wellspring of information you are. What kind of supplies?" You eye him, brow furrowing. "You're a bounty hunter, aren't you? Get your kind in here all the time." You tap a worn boot against the floor, hands now on your hips. "Hope you got means to pay for shit, because I don't do tab and I sure as fuck don't do charity work."

Cooper isn't sure if he likes you or he hates you. Bit of both, he guesses. The like is tentative and the hate is more solid ground, because he hates just about everybody. Makes it easier to do what needs to be done.

"Well, sweetheart," he leans into the counter, tips his hat, "depends on what you got to show me that's worth buyin'."

You stare, unimpressed by whatever angle he's going for. He's handsome, you'll give him that ㅡ but not much else. He also reminds you of somebody, with that hat of his and the way he talks ㅡ the low, drawn out drawl that you've only seen in those movies you manage to scrounge up here and there for your amusement.

Rolling your eyes, you hold up a finger and shrug your arms back into the jumpsuit, though you don't bother to zip it up. "Gimme a sec."

You don't know why you're doing this. Entertaining the notion that if you show him good enough product, he'll become a regular. You like regulars, but most of what you get seem to run on about six months worth of visits and then vanish.

Probably dead. Such is the way of the world, and it's still enough to get by. But you like new faces.

To his credit, he doesn't flinch when you slap the first pack onto the counter, followed by a second, and then a third.

"This is baseline stuff," you explain. "Your usual grade of bullet. Black powder, the standard kick." You shove the first pack at him, let him inspect the bullets. "Then you've got these."

The second pack shoved over, thin fabric parted so he can eye the neat little row of what would be hollow-point bullets if they didn't end with a tiny, pointed bulb of red glass.

"Explosive rounds." Your expression is unreadable. "They do the job, but they need special packing. Unless you wanna be blown up before the damn things even get loaded into the gun."

Cooper hums, eyes the bullet he holds up, the barely there shift of powder in the glass. He watches as you push the third over. "And these?"

"Same, but they pack even more of a punch. I'd recommend only shooting them at shit you want up in smoke." You shrug. "Or people, deathclaws, whatever the fuck you do out there."

Cooper studies you. "Where did you get this stuff? Thought bullets were hard to come by."

You give him a flat look of annoyance. "I make 'em myself."

Cooper stares, then smirks. Another little tip to his head. "Really now," he says, watches you bristle like a viper, ready to strike. Wonders if those fangs of yours pack a punch, what he'd need to do to get you to spit at him. "How 'bout you show me, darlin'? Wanna make sure what I buy is good quality."

You should tell him to shove it. Tell him to get the absolute fuck out of your shop, take his fuckin' yeehaw personality to someone else in the mood to deal with it ㅡ but you don't.

Instead, you sigh and tug the packages back, moving away from the counter. "Well c'mon then," you prompt, irritated. "Don't have all goddamn day."

The back of your shop is half a home and half a workshop, sprawled mess of equipment rusted with time but otherwise well maintained, smell of grease and hot metal and gunpowder that clings to everything.

You don't have to look back to know he's followed you, the jingle of his spurs as he takes his time, eyes missing nothing. The boxes of empty casings and empty glass bulbs ㅡ and the Mister Handy that's slumped in the corner, sparks spitting from it.

"Poor thing got shot first with that...situation earlier." Your voice is quiet. "Gotta fix 'im if I can."

Kind of funny, you sound sadder about the damn machine than the fact you'd killed someone over it. Then again, they'd been trying to kill you, so...eh. Justified, in your book.

The rest of the room is a haphazard attempt at something like a house ㅡ a couch with blankets on it, a short stack of books gone yellow at the edges, a coffee table ㅡ and sitting on it is a shitty little television, staticy and without color ㅡ but that doesn't matter. What matters to Cooper is that he knows what it's playing.

Your flitting around fades a little as he watches himself on screen ㅡ forever ago, a lifetime ago. Before the bombs, before vault-tec ㅡ when he'd been happy.

He'd loved his life, his family ㅡ and they'd loved him too.

"I've got enough stuff to make another round of flash-baㅡ" You stop, blinking at the way he's staring at the television. "Somethin' wrong? I know this isn't much, but it's my way of living, soㅡ"

"Stop your yappin'," Cooper rasps, and you glare as he shakes himself out of whatever reverie he was lost in. You scowl.

"Look, I know this doesn't seem like much of anything, but this is my business, and my shop." Your eyes narrow. "So try to be a little fuckin' nicer if you want me to sell you anything."

Whatever patience he'd had left promptly snaps like a bowstring as he snatches your arm, grips it tighter than he should. "Listen, sweetheart," he hisses, "what exactly is stopping me from just takin' what I want and leaving?"

Something whirrs behind him, distracts him just enough for the cool, sharp kiss of metal at his throat.

"Do it," you taunt, expression unreadable, grip tight on the blade you hold to his neck. "You're not the first one to try, and you won't be the last."

And there, Cooper notes, are your fangs, ready to sink into his skin. The two of you stare at each other for a good, long minute while the Mister Handy spits and sputters. And then Cooper huffs something like a laugh. "Glad to see you've got some bite to you, darlin', but I still think I could handle you."

A threat and something a little less hostile all in one, even as you yank your arm out of his grasp. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with a fuckin' manual," you snap back, but there's a playful gleam to your eyes. "You gonna buy anything or just lookin' to be a pain in my ass?"

A crooked grin tugs at Cooper's mouth. "Both."

ㅡ

The truce between the two of you is tentative. An understanding in the barest sense, because neither of you are dumb enough to pass up a lucrative, beneficial deal. He gets his supplies, you get caps. Simple.

You won't go as far as to say you're even friends, up until the point that you greet him on a visit with, "You know, you remind me of somebody."

He eyes you. "Really now. And who would that be, sweetheart? You workin' with more ghouls than just me?"

You snort. "Careful," you tease, "you almost sound jealous." Your tone quiets as you drum your fingers on the counter. "Nah, you remind me of that one actor, Cooper Howard."

Cooper stills. Watches you warily, turning a spent bullet casing over and over between gloved fingers.

"He played a cowboy," you say, nodding to yourself. "Talked like you do, too. Good movies, at least the ones I've gotten my hands on." You eye him, playful light to your eyes. "Wouldn't happen to be a fan of him too, would you?"

Cooper debates. He's not sure if you've put the pieces together and if you have, you're polite enough not to say it. He appreciates that, makes that fleeting temptation of putting a bullet in your head all the more temporary. He likes you. Be a shame if he had to cut ties.

"No," he answers. "I can safely say he and I are nothin' alike." Not anymore. He lets himself lean over the counter, too close to your face. Intimidation, maybe, or perhaps just because he likes being able to look at you like this. "Got anythin' else to tell me?"

Your eyes flick over his face, down to his lips as you lean a little closer, the suggestion of your mouth just shy of his. "Yeah," you murmur, quiet. "Next time you come by, work on your fuckin' manners."

#ㅡmine.#fallout x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #now to get the norm thing done for Lexis!!

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rexlroze · 2 days

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𝟐 — 𝐃𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, No physical description of reader other than mostly height comparison. Swearing, Mention of alcohol, drinking, vomiting, Fluff.

𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

A/N: I honestly had to rethink this over and over again so many times even though I was like half way thru the damn chapter so that's why making this took me long, also the fact I have the attention span of a child. I was really not sure about this whole thing cuz it kinda felt too sudden but hopefully, it turned out fine? for me it did tbh but like. *blink* yk? Or maybe it's just because I'm not confident in my fucking writing skills and need validation for every damn step I take<3 But anyways, I made half of the notes for this chapter during math class and the teacher caught me so that too (Spoiler Alert: I got sent to the principal's office :3) but that's besides the point. Also if some of the characters were a little OOC, I'm very sorry- I tried my best to make them as accurate as possible (some inaccurate shit tends to get on my nerve, mostly if it's produced by me) annnnd I need to stop ranting💀. I don't take requests nor do I plan on doing so in the future. Happy reading! 😉

Chapter 2 >>> Chapter 3

Each Stroke of paint is smooth, filling the wall with a little more color than before. The bristles of the paint brush gently swipes over the wall. Music flowed into your ears and through, making you hum.

The atmosphere was calming, like nothing could ever—

“Whatcha listenin’ to?” A teasing voice appeared beside you making you jump and your shoulder tense up.

Right. You forgot he was still here. Pushing your headphones off, “a song.” You answered flatly, turning away from him, your back facing Hobie as you dipped your paint brush into the thick minty liquid that was within the metal bucket and slid the brush across the wall.

“Really? I'll have to check it out when I get home.”

You scoff at the sarcasm in his tone.

After yesterday, he helped you with a little cleaning. You thought he was probably going to dip and disappear from your life after that so when he returned the next day (today), it did surprise you a little. He's been just hanging around. You don't know why, he doesn't owe you anything. “Why are you helping me again?” You turned to him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Mate, you've asked me that like 4 times already.”

“And each time, I haven't gotten a proper answer.”

This time, he's the one to scoff. “Is it that bad to want to just help somebody?”

“You're dodging the question again.” You say in a sing-song voice.

He holds his hands up in surrender, “aight aight. I'm just tryna help out a friend of a friend, y'know? Plus. I ain't' hurtin’ anyone, right?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it means, love.”

You sighed, your arm falling to your side. Your other hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “okay. I'll admit, I'm being a little… douchey.” You say, biting your lip, “But I can't say that I don't appreciate your help, and company.”

“Little's an understatement.” Hobie quipped, snickering to himself which made you throw a side glance in his direction. An innocent smile spread across his face.

You rolled your eyes turning back to the wall to continue what you were doing. Hobie took it as a sign to pursue his side of the wall.

A small spot was left just at the top of the wall making you push yourself up on your tiptoes, trying to get to the empty white patch on top of the wall.

Hobie, who was distracted by his own work, took a glance at you when he heard a few groans of frustration. Seeing you so frustrated over such a small thing brought a small smirk to his face. He settled his brush down into the paint bucket and made his way to you, your head turning to him when you caught a glimpse of him in the corner of your eye extending his hand, beckoning for you to give him the brush you held.

You raised your eyebrow but gave in, settling the brush into his extended hand, your fingers grazing his palm before you quickly withdrew your hand to your side.

He stepped forward closer to you and the wall, making you step back away, giving him space as he took care of the last white spot on the wall.

“Thank you,” you gave him a small smile and a nod.

“No problem.” He returned the smile. You two stood there holding eye contact. His eyes were as pretty as they were in the poster. No. Prettier. You thought, why? You didn't know.

You quickly cleared your throat and looked away to look at your progress the two of you had made whilst he sunk the paint brush back into the depths of the mint paint after filling the small white spot with paint.

The two of you had already completed three walls, the last wall was just about half done. The only other thing left to paint was the closet, you'd get to that later.

“You wanna go get a drink?” Hobie suddenly asked, turning his head towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather vest.

You rubbed a hand over your jaw, the thought of a break was very enticing right about now since you'd been busy for about a solid 4-5 hours. You answered after a second or two of silence. “Sure. I could use a little break.”

“Good cuz I know an awesome pub around here.”

“Lead the way.” You said extending your arm towards the door.

—

The two of you walked side by side, Hobie’s gaze fixed on the rock he kept kicking in front of him during your walk, yours lost in the sky that was split into hues of yellow and pink.

“So, I haven't really seen you around here before.” Hobie suddenly spoke up after his rock companion got left behind, a small pout formed on his face which disappeared as quickly as it appeared when it did but obviously he wasn't going back just to retrieve a rock.

“Just moved here about a few days ago, used to live in York with my parents.” You answered, crossing one of your arms behind your head.

“Hm.” He nodded before silence fell over the two of you again, seems neither of you knew what to say. Your eyes lingered on the sky, watching the purple mixing into the pink and orange.

This time, you decided to break the silence. “So, where are we going?” Your head turned towards him, tilting your head a little.

“It's a surprise.” He answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“It's a bar.”

“Your point?”

“I mean, how ‘exciting’ can a bar really be?” You snorted.

“Depends, you ever been in an underground pub?”

“No— say what now?” You gawked, turning to Hobie with wide eyes who just smirked and lifted his chin. When he didn't continue elaborating further, you decided to poke at the subject. “Wait, c'mon. You gotta tell me more.”

Chuckling, he let out a low whistle. “No, I don't.”

“You can't just tell me we're going to an underground bar then shut up. Like- what if I get kidnapped or sumn?” You exaggerated, throwing your hands up in the air.

“I'll be right there beside you, love, won't even let anyone lay a hand. Good?” He proposed, playfully tilting his head a little.

“You're torturing me.” You groaned.

“Maybe that's my plan.” He shrugged, flicking invisible lint off his jacket.

“...”

“How do I know you're not the one who's trying to kidnap me?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Doesn't it seem oddly weird you just randomly appear at my parlor, offer me help and now you're taking me to a very secret underground bar.”

As Hobie heard you ramble on, he couldn't help but start to chuckle. His chuckle twisting into a flown blown laugh as you threw a playful punch in his shoulder.

“Tell me. You have trust issues or something?” He chuckled, wiping an unshed tear from his eye. “Just have a little patience. It'll be worth it, I promise. I mean, you can always go back if you’re too paranoid.”

“Hilarious.”

“I'm being serious, I can walk you back right now if you'd like.” He offered, slowing down.

Your lips parted as you thought about it for a quick second before shaking your head. “Nah, no thank you. I'm coming along.”

“Hm, suit yourself.” He shrugged looking back to the front of the street. Your footsteps falling in sync with one another once more.

Silence taking over, punctuated by the honking motorcycles and cars and the birds chirping.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Twelve minutes later, the both of you stood before an abandoned 2 storey office building. It looked like it hadn't been used in decades with its cracked windows which reflected the creamy moonlight. Graffiti turned the concrete structure into a riot of colors, doodles, swear words and penises with overgrown vines that clawed their way up the sides.

As Hobie strode towards the door, his hand inches away from pushing the door when you suddenly spoke up, “it's in there?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He said turning his head towards you, “I know it don’ look it but I promise it's on purpose. Keeps the coopers away.”

“Ehh… I don't know. I'm starting to believe the whole “you're trying to kidnap me” thing.” Skepticism traced your voice.

“Oh, c’mon. Just trust me.”

“That's what I'm scared to do.” You scoffed. “This looks like a place where serial killers would stuff their victims in.”

“Dunno, never tried digging around. Two bodies at best?” He analyzed jokingly, covering up his laugh with a cough as he saw you pale a little.

“You're not funny.”

“Dunno ‘bout that, love.” He snickered. “You comin’?” He didn't wait for you to answer before he disappeared into the building.

You crossed your arms tapping your foot, not wanting to follow him in because of your stubbornness but something about standing alone sent chills down your spine.

I'm gonna kill him. You quickly sprinted into the office-like building following Hobie's direction, running away from something you don't even know.

You find yourself walking behind Hobie who walks up to an elevator across the room. The walls were crumbling, chairs laidon the floor, tables flipped upside down “Why the hell is this place so run down?”

“It's a meeting ground made by the government, basically all the corrupted and secret shit that they wanted no one knowing happened around here but word got out. Eventually punks started graffiting the grounds, protesting, sneaking in and eventually drove them out to who knows where. Started using it as a club and a speakeasy after cuz it was spacious grounds. Coopers don’ blink an eye towards this direction cuz they're bloody cowards.” He casually explains (leaving out the part where he whooped their asses and corrupted all their data with a chip he made as Spider-Punk but you didn't need to know that.)

He pressed a few buttons which opened up the elevator doors. Wordlessly, he gestured to you to get in.

“And you know this how?” You lifted an eyebrow climbing into the elevator, he followed suit.

When you asked that, it brought a proud smile to Hobie's face, “I was one of the punks.” He answered nonchalantly without glancing at you, the pockets of his leather vest stuffed with his hands. The elevator door slid back together locking the both of you in.

“Of course you were,” you said it like it was one of the most obvious things in the world for which you got a little nudge in the shoulder from his elbow. He pressed a button on a small keypad beside the door making the elevator flow down.

The elevator finally stopped making a small chiming sound after what seemed like minutes but in reality. It had been barely more than 40 seconds. Guess time just slowed down when you're in the presence of awkward silence… or Hobie.

The doors opened up letting bright neon lights seep in and illuminate your face. The ‘bar’ (which looked more like a rave) was more lively than most bars you've gone to. Vibrant blends of pink, blue, and yellow casted over you.

“W'dya think?” A voice shouted over the blasting songs, Hobie's voice. You just stared at him wide eyed, unable to make up a coherent response. “You'll get used to it.” He nudged you before stepping out the elevator, signaling for you to follow him.

You shook yourself out of your daze and promptly caught up with him. You swore to god you've put way too much trust in someone you met a day ago. Maybe not even a complete 24 hours yet but you're too deep in and too stubborn to turn around.

“You come here often then?” You arched an eyebrow in his direction, his gaze straight ahead but he tilted his head a little to meet yours.

“Occasionally. Usually—” He was cut off by someone who called out to him in the crowd. “Yo, it's Hobie everyone!”

People glanced in your (his) direction, waving at him and cheering him on. Said man waves back, winking in the direction of a few gals who probably fainted with how excited they got but you didn't bother checking.

“Mr.Popular, huh?”

“That's one way to put it. I come here to hang out often so I know people.”

“Do you usually take all your girls here?” You suddenly blurted out, heat clawed its way up your neck when you processed what you just had said. He raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress the shit-eating grin that came onto his face. “Shut up, I didn't mean it like that.” You grumbled, turning your head away from him.

“I didn't say anything,” he shrugged, feigning obliviousness.

“You implied it.”

“Did I?”

Something about his tone just wanted to make you sink into the floor and become one with the secretundergroundbarraveparty (whatever it was) or maybe punch that stupid smile off his face but you didn't do either. Instead you continued making your way through the crowd with him until you reached a bar. Several drinks lined up on several shelves behind the counter. You could tell that it wasn't just some cheap liquor crap either. It made you wonder where they had gotten it from.

He sat down on one of the stools, locking eyes with you before patting the stool beside him. Before you could say anything, your body moved on its own, settling yourself on the stool. Nobody else was really seated near your guys, most of the people were already drunk and partying.

Hobie leaned back against nothing but the air particles, his eyes resting on you when you stirred a little, turning to face him, “what?” you tilted your head.

“Nothin’, just thinking.” He gave you one of his small smiles before his attention averted to the raven-haired girl that walked through one of the doors that was hidden behind the counter. Her eyes fell on the two of you making them pop open, “are my eyes deceiving me or are those my most favorite people? Y/N, you didn't tell me you were in town!” She beamed.

“Yuri?” Your eyes harmonized hers. “I was gonna surprise you but… wait, what're you doing here?”

“Me? I work here, babe. The real question is what are the two of you doing here, hmm?” Yuri gaped, leaning against the counter. Her arms crossed over it.

“He dragged me into this.” You said pointing your thumb at the man beside you, making him gasp dramatically, “nah nah, I see how it is.” He drawled, turning his head away from you.

“Drama queen.” You accused, punched him in his bicep. The two of you acted like you had known each other for years by now.

“Ooh, you two must be close.” Yuri cooed, tilting her head, her cheek squished up against her hand as she watched the two of you interact.

“We met yesterday,” you scoffed, turning down any further suggestions that she could blurt out.

“Is that supposed to make a difference?” Yuri sassed, wiping a glass mug down with a cloth that was under the counter.

“Yuri.” Your eyebrows knitted together making her smirk, “what? I'm being serious.” She smirked.

“If this is you being serious, I don't wanna know what you being unserious is like.” Yuri snickered, placing two mugs in front of the two of you. Her body twisted around pulling out one of the alcoholic drinks out of the shelf and shaking the bottle before pouring it into your glass. “So darling, how've you been, how's Camden treating you so far?” She asked, pushing the two mugs across the counter towards you too.

“It's been alright. I've been working on my parlor recently. Otherwise… nothing special. Oh, Spider-Punk also saved my brain from spewing out like three days ago so that's something,” You shrugged when you suddenly heard Hobie choke on his drink, his beer going down the wrong pipe making him cough harshly. You and Yuri raise an eyebrow in his direction.

“Bloody hell. Sorry, this- this drink is really strong,” He sputtered, clearing his throat. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, tears stinging his eyes.

“Okay…” Your tone contained skepticism in it, “you good now?” You asked to which he nodded. “Fantastic.”

You nodded, turning back to Yuri. A silence washing over the three of you even with the blast of music and chitter chatter in the back.

Yuri opened her mouth to say something but quickly closed it when she heard the door squeak open. A brunette walked through, his face flushed as he stumbled towards the counter. “Hey!”

“Flash!” Yuri squeaked, her eyebrows knitting together. “You're not supposed to drink during your fucking shift!”

“Bloody hell. Chill, mom.” He rolled his eyes, voice awfully slurred leaning his hip against the counter but miserably failing after almost falling.

“Ay,” Hobie lifted his head in a greeting while you sat beside him thinned-lipped.

“Oh my god. Hobie, is that you my man?” Flash exclaimed, throwing his arms out in a hug but unable to reach him due to the counter that separated them so going for a high-wave instead that he missed by a head.

“The one and only,” Hobie snickered, grabbing Flash's wrist and guiding him through the high five properly.

Flash clicked his tongue, turning his head towards you, “Ooh, and who's this pretty little thing?” He smirked, grabbing your hand that laid atop the counter and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You gave him a polite smile, retracting your hand. You opened your mouth to introduce yourself but Hobie beat you to it. “Y/N Y/L/N. We met yesterday.”

“What he said,” you dipped your chin in agreement.

“A pretty name for a prettier lady,” Flash winked at you when Yuri pushed him away with her whole hand pressed up against his face, “don't mind this idiot. He always gets like this when he's woozy.”

“‘m not woozy.” Flash grumbled, pushing her hand off his face and crossing his arms over his chest like a child who didn't get what they wanted.

“Sure you aren't.” Yuri rolled her eyes, wiping the black marble counter with gold veinings etched into them with a scruffy cloth tinted a light brown at hand (you assumed that it used to be white once.)

“Just a little bit, alright?” He grunted.

You tune in and out of the conversation thinking about what you could do back at the parlor, what you still need to do and improve, how you're going to start developing and promoting your work. Making a website could do me goods, never hurts to try. Maybe I should make a Facebook page— You jumped out of your twilight zone when a pair of fingers snapped right in front of your face.

“Welcome back to earth, love.” Hobie's voice was the first one you processed.

“Sorry, just got some things on my mind.” You ran a hand over your head till the nape of your neck, letting it settle there.

“I can see that,” Hobie took the empty glass of beer in your hand and replaced it with a refilled one. Your eyes lingered on his hands, watching them with precision before your eyes found their way back to your glass, staring at the foam floating at the top of the glass. You brought the glass up to your lips letting the liquid burn down your throat.

Hobies eyes lit up with amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Calm down, love. The drink ain’ gonna run away from you.” He quipped, his fingers gently wrapping around your forearm pulling the drink down from your lips. Your body slightly tensed up as his warmth seeped into your skin and throughout your body, your eyes meeting his.

Hobie's amused smirk seemed to drop into a line when he noticed the change in the atmosphere. His eyes stuck on yours, yours on his.

The tension suddenly drowned out by the cackle of Yuri who was watching Flash flirt (and fail miserably) with some gals that sat a few seats away from the two of you. His hand quickly untangled itself from your arm finding its way back onto the counter. You let out a breath of relief thankful for brief distraction.

Flash trudged back to where the three of you were, his shoulders slumped with a small pout planted on his face after the girls left with scowls and disgust etched on their faces.

“No luck?” Yuri teased.

“Shut up.” Flash huffed, snapping his head away from her to which Yuri hummed smugly.

Hobie reassured Flash by giving him a small pat on his back whispering some words into his ear that seemed to lighten him up.

“Hey, up for some dare or drink?” Flash beamed suddenly, his movement more animated than before.

“What?” you tilt your head quizzically.

“Dare or drink, do the dare or chug a beer.” Flash summarized with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh no, I should probably get back in a couple of minutes,” you interjected, waving your hands in the air dismissively.

Yuri frowned, “c'mon babe, my shift is almost over. It won't hurt you to have a little fun, y'know?”

“I really shouldn't-” You protested but quickly folded with Yuri's small pout the alcohol in your system. I'm so gonna regret this later.

—

“Chug, chug, chug!” The three chanted while your hazy eyes tried to focus on the mug of beer in front of you. This might've been your fifth drink of the night, but could you blame yourself? You were definitely NOT texting your fucking ex that you missed him (given by our dear Flash). Not in a million years, but it was more tempting than chugging another beer and inevitably using the next person near you as a vomit bucket.

“Fuck, 'm gonna vomit.” You slurred, putting the glass mug down on the marble counter. Somehow, even with four and a half beers in your system, you could kind of think properly.

Kind of.

“It's the beer or the dare, babe.” Yuri reminded, wiggling her finger.

“Mhm,” you pinched the bridge of your nose trying to rub the blur out of your eyesight. “I-I’m going to find the bathroom.” You shook your head, standing up clumsily. You swallowed the saliva that had built up in your mouth but it didn't help with your slurring at all.

You just whipped around and showed yourself the way towards the bathroom which you had no idea where the fuck it was simply disappearing into the crowd.

“That's not even the direction of the bathroom.” Yuri murmured, sighing defeatedly.

“So… who's going with her?” Flash raised an eyebrow, his eyes bouncing between Hobie and Yuri. The two stared back at him, making him raise his hands in the air defensively, “not it.”

It made both Hobie and Yuri roll their eyes. Yuri turned towards Hobie, opening her mouth to say something but Hobie interrupted her before she could.

“I'll go, ya both enjoy. If we don't return, we left, ‘ight?” Hobie gave them a curt nod and small goodbyes before he headed your way quickly just in case you were about to do something stupidly stupid and wouldn't be able to take it back.

Hobie strutted through the packed room, hands in pocket, eyes searching for a certain (h/c) headed individual. His height an advantage as he could see over the array of people. His nostrils taking in a whiff of the sweat and alcohol mixed in with the air, dancing bodies bumping against his.

Where did she go? He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes wandered over the room, skimming through the crowd but unable to spot you. You went in the complete wrong direction so you couldn't possibly have made it to the bathroom.

Should he call your name? Probably not, as tempting as it was, you weren't really a lost child.

He caught a glimpse of you – your back turned to him whilst you talked to two other girls. He doesn't remember introducing you to them. Maybe you knew them already? He pushed the thoughts aside, walking over towards you.

He tapped your shoulder, “Y/N-” only to freeze in his stance when he saw ‘you’ turn around.

“Huh?” The amber-eyed woman looked Hobie up and down, her eyes sparkling. “Sorry, can I help you?” She spoke softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“Sorry love, thought you were somebody else.” He explained noticing her smile slip a little.

“Oh.” She murmured melancholy, plastering a fake smile on her face. Hobie nodded and quickly left before she could say anything else.

Something – Someone – suddenly slammed into his side, his hands reaching down and grabbing their waist to steady them.

He looked down, finding your hazy eyes melding with his, “you good?”

“Just a little… light-headed.” You reassured, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm unable to ignore the uneasiness in the back of your throat but you didn't see why he had to know that.

“You wanna get outta here?” Hobie suggested, watching you narrow your eyes at him before nodding and mumbling something he assumed was a yes.

He moved his hand up wrapping around your shoulder and leading you towards the elevator.

—

Ding.

The Elevator had reached the top, the metal doors sliding out revealing how the dark blue had taken over the sky, multiple glowing specks adorning the sky. What time was it? Where were you two going now? You wondered, your thoughts racing from one to another. At least they hadn't gone completely blank… yet.

Your body moved on its own — with the help of Hobie, of course. Otherwise you'd probably still be tossed around the crowd like a colorful toy among a group of children.

You'd rushed over dipped your head over a plant pot that busied the wall right next to the elevator when you reached it. Gagging and retching, expecting your half-digested lunch and almost 5 beers to make a quick reappearance but it never did.

“You feelin’ better?” The voice snapped you out of your musing.

“Nope,” you answered with a pop of the p. “I think… I think it's probably gotten worse actually.” Your answer was slow, trying to comprehend each syllable you spit out of your mouth.

“Eh, should've known better before dragging ya into a bar and making you chug beer.” He sighed, feeling you lean against him while he continued to steady your movement.

“Probably.”

“Definitely.”

“Did you enjoy at least?” Hobie asked, trying to make some good of the situation.

“Mhm.” You crooned, stumbling over your own foot but never making it to the floor. He twisted the door knob that probably would've broken down if the breeze of air was too fast. “So where do you live?”

“Eh… my apartment.” You answered.

He chuckled at your ominous answer, “and where would your ‘apartment’ be?”

Huh… your apartment? It was on street… Your thoughts went blank. Did you just forget where you fucking live? yes. Yes you did. But if you think hard enough– nope. nothing. Maybe you shouldn't have drank that much.

With how long you were silent for, Hobie realized the problem. “Ya forgot?”

“I forgot.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @the-kr8tor @missshelleyduvall @hobieszeze

Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune

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allthegothihopgirls · 1 day

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I like to think that Tim’s parents never let him grow his hair out and when he moves into Wayne manor he’s mildly terrified that they’ll make him cut his hair too, and is amazed when they don’t. He damn near has a panic attack the first time someone sees that it’s getting long and asks if he wants to get it cut. But they never make him cut it, not even when it’s long enough put in a ponytail.

I have this fic scene in my head where someone, maybe Damian once he’s warmed up to Tim, starts bleaching his hair in his sleep as a prank and he has a full blown panic attack. He attacks the heck out of whoever’s doing it and starts hyperventilating when someone grabs him and holds him back.

ok i love long hair!tim as much as the next person (fuck batman: arkham knight) but oh do i love the idea that he never really gets to explore that part of himself until he moves into wanye manor.

like imagine you've got this poor little kid, who's terrified of so many things that he should just. not be scared of (tim w/no rational fears + tim w/all the non-rational fears). retaliating to a suggestion of a haircut being one of them.

he's moved into this new place where the people are more accepting and willing to show love than anyone in his life has ever been. he's slowly but surely learning to undo all the past notions he holds about what would happen if he 'disobeyed' or made honest mistakes. but among the few things he just can't let go off, it's this whole thing about his hair.

so when bruce makes some offhand comment about 'we should probably take you to the barbers at some point' and tim completely freezes next to him, he stops and asks '..do you want to get your hair cut?' and when tim can't even open his mouth to give his honest answer, bruce just shrugs his shoulders and says 'no big deal, just let me or alfred know if you ever do'. tim is gobsmacked.

his head reels wondering why he wasn't scolded for not agreeing, or had his silence taken as 'wanting to look feral', and reprimanded for that as well. i don't think he really accepts it as completely okay right then and there though.

he takes it more a warning that they're noticing his hair's length, and that it will certainly need to be cut when they pay enough attention to see it again. so he styles it to look as short as he can get it, and wears a lot of hats for the time being. until one day when it's well and truly at his shoulders, alfred comments 'your hair looks nice today master timothy', and it takes tim just more than a split second to realise the compliment was genuine. i think that's when he lets the fear go.

although that doesn't stop him from freaking out when a villain's weapon slices through or yanks out some of his hair, or when he's in a vulnerable enough state (tired, hurt, etc) and someone mentions cutting his hair. the fear might not be there constantly lingering in the back of his head anymore, but it definitely pops up when he least expects it to.

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happy74827 · 2 days

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The Demon With A Heart

[Crowley x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Crowley saves your life, you can't help but think it was a little more than self-interest.

WC: 1858

Category: 99.9% Sexual Tension (lmfao), 0.01% Fluff + Angst? {TW: Mentions of Demons (obvi), Murder}

Crowley is too iconic not to have fics. I said what I said.

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react. It was as if your tongue was taken away, and you couldn’t talk, no matter how much you wanted to thank the man.

No, the demon.

You stood there with wide eyes, staring at the King of Hell, Crowley. He looked the same as before: a clean suit, a snarky comment, and a look of disgust on his face. But, instead of being on the opposite side, he was wiping the blood off of the angel blade he used to kill the angel that jumped you.

He just saved you—The King of Hell.

The very man who told Sam and Dean countless times that he doesn't do anything for free and doesn’t help people without getting something out of it. Yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not asking for a single thing.

The thought was a bit unsettling.

"Purely out of self-interest, darling," He says, breaking the silence and putting the stolen blade into his jacket. "Call it a favor that I plan to collect in the future."

He was about to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. Not without a thank you, at least. You didn't want him to think you didn’t appreciate what he did.

"Crowley."

The man turns back around, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you"

The corner of his mouth turned upward, forming a small smirk. He didn’t say anything but rather kept his eyes on you for a second longer. He then disappeared, leaving you in the dark.

And it did leave you in the dark. For days, weeks, months. He never came for that favor, and he never brought up what happened. In fact, he barely talked to you at all. It was always towards the Winchesters.

You began to believe it was nothing but a dream. That Crowley somehow didn't save you. The angel was a fake, and this was all some sick joke. It felt like gaslighting.

But you knew what happened was real. You remembered the blood splatter and the dead corpse. The way his face contorted when he pierced the angel's heart.

It was all too real.

So, why was he ignoring you? Why did he pretend that it never happened? Was he going to hold it over your head? Or was it just the fact that the King of Hell did something nice for a human?

Was it because he… cared?

One night, you got your answer. It was a quiet night filled with books, tea, and soft music. At least, it was before those idiotic brothers decided to tear down the bunker in search of some book.

You couldn’t remember the exact reason they needed it, but you were too tired to argue. So, you stayed in your room and tried to fall asleep.

That is until the lights went out and the emergency lights kicked on. Okay, now you were annoyed. You got up, slipped on your shoes and a coat, and walked out of your room.

"Alright, what did you two-"

You paused mid-sentence, eyes falling onto the figure in the library. The man was facing the opposite way, but you knew exactly who it was. The familiar black suit and hair gave it away.

"Crowley…"

"Hello, Darling,” he replied, turning around and smiling at you. It was almost unnerving. He didn’t have a malicious aura or even an evil one. Just... a smile.

You looked behind him and noticed… well, nothing. You were expecting the Winchesters to be with him, and yet, it was just him.

"Where are the boys?"

"Moose and Squirrel? Ah, they're off somewhere, doing... well, you know. Something heroic, I suppose. Figured I’d stick around… enjoy the scenery."

That’s when you looked up and understood what he meant. He was stuck, quite literally. Those devil traps they put everywhere finally did something good.

You half-expected him to bring up that 'favor' he was talking about or maybe even just demand to get out of there, but he did neither. Instead, he looked at the ground and sighed.

At the moment, the King of Hell looked just like a caged puppy, sad and alone. If he wasn’t such a… demon, you might have even felt bad for him.

But, you left him in there, strolling along to the kitchen to find some kind of light. You were not giving up your two hours of reading due to power loss.

As you shuffled through the cabinets, looking for any form of match or lighter, the lights flickered back on.

So that’s where the Winchesters were.

You shrugged and turned back to your room but stopped at the entrance to the library. Crowley was still there, but this time, his face was twisted. He was clearly pissed.

"Why did you do it?" The burning question you wanted answered for months finally came out. Crowley stopped his little fit and turned towards you, a confused expression on his face.

He looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

"I do a lot of things, Chipmunk. You'll have to be more specific."

You walked towards him, resting down the candles and book on a nearby table. You didn’t know why, but the need to confront him was growing.

"Save me all those months ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You were getting closer, now only a few feet from him. Crowley, however, didn’t back away. Instead, he watched as you moved, his expression unchanging.

"That angel could’ve killed me, yet you came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I know you don't do anything out of kindness, so why did you do it? What do I offer that no one else does?"

Crowley stayed silent for a while, not giving any indication of answering your questions.

You thought it was just a lost cause until his expression changed. It was subtle, but you caught it. The corner of his mouth turned down, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.

He almost looked ashamed.

"It's just like I said. Self-interest." He spat out, his voice sounding like venom. You almost took a step back. It still sounded like the same old Crowley, but his tone was different.

You decided to call his bluff.

"I don't believe you."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming across his face. He was amused by the sudden attitude, but it didn’t last long.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I saw the way you looked at me after you saved me. Hesitancy, almost. Like you were unsure. As if..."

The King of Hell stared at you, waiting for the last part of your statement. He was eager but not for the answer. No, he knew what you were going to say.

He was just waiting to hear it come out of your mouth.

"You care."

Those words hung in the air, both of you processing it. Crowley continued to stare at you, the smirk disappearing, leaving his face neutral. He had a blank expression.

A silence grew, the atmosphere turning awkward. It wasn't until the demon let out a loud sigh and looked to the side that it was broken.

"You’re really pulling on the heartstrings, Chipmunk,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If I had one, I'd say it was aching."

"Do you?"

You knew what you were implying. Crowley was the King of Hell, the ruler of the damned. He was the furthest thing from human, yet he could walk among them and, sometimes, be mistaken for one.

Was it possible for him to be human or even have emotions?

Crowley looked at you and frowned, clearly not liking the topic. But he didn't deny it. It was a strange sight—the King of Hell, frowning and silent.

It was almost adorable.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just… want an honest answer."

"Well, I am a demon, love,” He stated, his tone changing to a more playful one. “Honesty isn’t quite in the job description."

"Crowley"

You were starting to get impatient, and it showed. Your voice was firm, and your posture was tense. You wanted an answer, and you were determined to get it.

The demon in question let out another sigh and looked at the ceiling as if praying for a quick escape.

"You're a pain, you know that? It's exhausting." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But, I suppose, since you asked nicely..."

The man looked at you, his lips pursed. He was still hesitating, which only made you more curious.

"Yes, I care. About you. Happy?"

You blinked a few times, processing the information. Did the King of Hell, the person known for not giving a shit, just admit he cares?

"I-" You started, not knowing what to say. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. Crowley wasn't exactly a bad guy, well, a demon.

"Do you actually mean that?"

"Now that…" Crowley started, his voice low and deep. He leaned towards you, making you back up, but the wall soon prevented you from going any further.

He was inches away, his breath hitting your face. You could see his eyes staring into yours—a pretty brown, like a mocha latte.

"…Is the kind of question that will get you in trouble, love."

You weren’t sure what he was planning, but you didn't care. The way his eyes were looking at you, the smirk on his face, the closeness...

He was probably expecting you to back away, but he was wrong. You were an avid reader, obsessive even. This scene wasn't new, nor was it shocking.

The only shocking part was the fact that you were the one in it. And, well, the fact that you didn’t mind it.

"Unlike you,” you whispered, a small smirk on your face. "I don’t care."

Your response made him pause for a moment, squinting his eyes and giving you a confused look. It only lasted a few seconds, though. Soon, he understood, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Touché"

You truly believed you were about to lose your chance with the man upstairs, but loud footsteps interrupted you.

"Crowley, you slimy son of a bitch! If you’re not here, we are going to-"

Dean stopped talking as he rounded the corner, seeing you and Crowley close. His expression was shocked, almost comical.

"The hell is going on here?"

You and Crowley both turned to look at Dean, a look of annoyance on the King of Hell's face. Sam came around the corner as well, sharing the same look of confusion.

Crowley gave you one last glance, a bit of disappointment in his eyes, before taking a step back. His attention moved on to the two hunters, his usual smile returning.

And despite the annoyance in the air and the confusion, the only thing that came across your mind was another question that you were sure would take control of your sleep schedule once again.

"Hello, boys," He purred, his arms moving to his side. He was back to his old self, not showing a single sign of what happened moments ago.

Had the beauty thawed the beast?

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mydarlingbat · 2 days

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Batman Europa #3 lemme just inform everyone that i did not feel like making this one, and It's only because I have to do two parts to Batman Europa #3. there's so many wonderful moments in this issue. It'd be illegal for me not to show all of them. Alright let's talk about the first cutout panel from Batman Europa'#3 I would like to elaborate on Batman's patience here. I've already said this before, however Batman has so much patience with the Joker. He literally just sighs and ask the Joker can he stop his babbling. Batman here is obviously just trying to start a fight. He's once again grabbing the Joker recklessly. Batman you can just ask him you know? Plus he already mention he told you, so this just let's me know you want to argue a little, or even chat a little, but I do think he's also making sure the Joker isn't setting him up. The Joker telling Batman is hypocritical question is so funny to me, and Batman responds with 'heh that's funny' I swear theses two are so married. Batman doesn't tell the Joker to shut up until he talks about them murdering each other. I wonder why? What I really wanted to point out that the Joker listens to the Batman and be quiet for a whole hour? I'm in awe to be honest. The fact that Batman is complimenting the Joker again, and chucking too. It gives me life. Batman is so free around him.

Batman's over here thinking. 'What heart?' Nah, I'm just joking around. I have no doubt that he's just flabbergasted by the Joker right now. He is finding out something new about him, and he's just surprise by it, but I love how his mouth slightly hangs open in befuddle way, like is this really happening too.

I can't entirely believe that Batman just stands by, watching the Joker. He so fascinated with this man!!! Batman also refers to the Joker as his closet enemy. What he really meant is his closest friend. It's in disguise. I'm telling you. I mean but why did he choose those words though? He could've have said my greatest enemy. Bruce please stop playing with us here.

Like Bruce are you saying that the Joker has charm? I actually love this page, because Batman's aware of the Joker's charm. The Joker doesn't need to look amazing in appearance. What makes up for his appearance is his charm itself. It's why Batman can be so intrigue by the Joker, and find him attractive. Batman also wanted to know how it feels to be the Joker, and again Batman's kind of complimenting the Joker here.

I just can't with Batman always trying to start a fight here. The Joker refuses to fight with the Batman while they're working together, but Batman continue to try to go back with the usually routine. Let's fight a little. Batman looks like he misses it more than the Joker here to be honest, but here's a theory. I believe Batman desires the touches from the Joker. He's not fighting with him, which involves a lot of touching. This is Batman way of getting that from the Joker, without making it obvious, and the reason I believe this is because after the Joker's touches Batman arm to call him down He relaxes and doesn't seem the littlest mad to be honest. Batman also grabs the Joker constantly, and even chokes him throughout the comic run. The Joker on the other hand isn't trying to fight with Batman, because he feels free touching Batman whatever way he pleases. Batman's the one who has to stop him. I mean Batman can clearly see no one's laughing. The Joker isn't laughing neither. Batman just find a reason to grab the Joker. He waits for the Joker to say anything about him to attack, that's the only way to touch him without him feeling wrong about it. Now this is just a theory. It definitely might not be true, or maybe it's something I deeply want. Lmao

And the way Batman willingly let's the Joker push him away says a whole lot, and not Bruce raising his hand to ask a question. Oh my god! I'm dying. The Joker just over here like 'bats shut up' and Batman is raising his hand like can I ask something. I can't even think of another villain Batman has done this with? It's so funny to me. I just love, love how the Joker speaks to Batman like he's a child, and Bruce takes it. It's just my opinion.

#batjokes #batman and joker #batman #comics #batman x joker #comic books #dc comics #the joker #batmm #dcedit #word's

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cool-person-yey · 2 days

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ok but what are the puter voices trying to say????

or: my theory on what the fuck Chester&Norris have going on

so first of all, the voices are trying to communicate with the OIAR through reading the incidents, that's something that basically everyone has noticed, now here's the thing: what are they trying to say?

we only got one Augustus case ( at the moment I'm writing this) so I'm gonna leave him out of this.

anyways, now to the good part, first off let's start with our favorite whiny little toad:

Norris

Norris speaks in episodes 1, 3, 8 and 12

my theory is that Norris is trying to warn them of the consequences their actions (and choices because this is the "at the end of the day, you just need to make a choice" podcast) could have.

in episode 1, this one's a bit obvious, but it shows the consequences ( only " some parts" of their loved one coming back) of them trying to get the person they loved back.

in episode 3, it shows the consequences ( the guy turning into a fucking tree) of the ' statement giver' ( can't think of a better name sorry) killing his ex.

in episode 8, this one I'm not 100% sure tbh, like yeah the consequence is the guy getting a part of their body eaten, but the cause I'm not so sure. maybe the fact they accepted to go in the building ( even if they didn't understand why they did it. something something even if the choices are shitty you still made a choice), or maybe something relating to the ex-wife they mentioned earlier in the incident? that'd be a bit of a far reach, but I'm not discarding anything. It could also be just the fact that they applied and got hired for the job.

in episode 12, the consequences ( whatever the fuck that was. I'm still not over that) of Gwen giving Mr Bonzo that envelope. do i even need to say anything else?

now, to our beloved Archivist Spooky Computer Voice!

Chester

Chester speaks in episodes 1, 5, 7, 9 and 11

my theory is that Chester is trying to warn them to not fucking mess with that type of stuff, and if you're going to, fucking be ready

in episode 1, this one's a bit obvious, RedCanary choosing to explore the magnus Institute, and that resulting in... well, we still don't know yet it but it sure as hell didn't go well. that was a very clear " do not go to the fucking magnus institute manchester" and what did they do? go to the fucking magnus institute manchester

in episode 5 a warning about being desensitized to horror, the characters ( especially Alice) have mentioned dozens of times how they just don't get scared that much anymore, that episode was showing that that isn't always a good thing. also the more obvious don't trust spooky shit but eh

episode 7 it's a bit tricky, I'd say it's a warning to either a) hiring new people (aka Celia? maybe Chester doesn't trust her? idk) or b) trusting people, just like, in general?

episode 9, a warning about making choices, and how ppl are gonna make shitty choices bc they're in shitty situations— but hey, at the end of the day, you still made a choice. or simply about Spooky Artefacts™

episode 11 this one seemed to be very much targeted at Alice, and it seems to be warning her about the paranoia that a paranormal experience can give you. And considering Alice's earlier comment about being followed, I'd say the tattoo being the boat bring hunted by something is definitely something to consider.

but well, this is just a theory, a magnus protocol theory.

seriously tho, i love this initial point of every series cuz i can just make up a lot of connections that in the future prob won't make sense but like, we don't have shit so might as well make up our own lmao.

that being said, maybe i got a few things right! only time will tell. my goal is to say as much random theories as i can until i get atleast one (1) thing right.

thanks for reading all of this, and if you have any addition that you'd like to make feel free!

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #the magnus protocol #tmagp theory #tmagp speculation #tmagp norris #tmagp chester

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irkimatsu · 3 days

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Idk if you ever thought about this but how would Husk react if his S/O was super self-conscious about their body? Whether thinking they’re way too skinny or way too fat. I feel like you, as the Husk professional, would know how to answer this because I am the exact opposite of a Husk professional. Much better with Angel Dust tbh.

Oh, trust me, as a certified fatass I have thought about this constantly. How would Husk feel about body types that aren't traditionally attractive?

Thankfully for me, my immediate instinct is that he doesn't care so much - sure, he has some physical preferences, but personality wins over everything else. It's part of why he's not swayed by Angel's initial flirting, I feel. He acknowledges that Angel is physically attractive, but the tryhard flirting was way too much of a turnoff. Conversely, even if he's not immediately drawn to someone's physical appearance, getting to know someone on a deeply personal level will attract him far harder than initial appearance ever could.

Not to say he doesn't see anything attractive in those non-traditional body types, of course. I do headcanon him as liking some squish on a partner for my own personal enjoyment, after all. Especially in the ass department. Husk hates to see you go but he loves watching you leave.

As for self-consciousness... trust me, he knows self-consciousness. I can go with him either being too skinny or overweight; either body type is the result of his awful self-care, especially ever since he lost the bet with Alastor. He drinks too much alcohol, he doesn't eat enough, and what he does eat has no nutritional value whatsoever. Any physical stamina he still has is bolstered by his innate demon powers; his muscles have all atrophied by now. But at the same time, we already know how Husk feels about wallowing alone in self-pity.

"You're not the only one down here who hates their body. Look at what I've done with mine! I got a second body after I destroyed my living one, and now I've gone and fucked this one up too. Maybe your choices led to how you look now, or maybe you just got saddled with a shitty form down here... but either way, hating yourself for it isn't going to get you anywhere. Who even benefits from your self-pity, anyway? Predatory jackasses who wanna sell you shit with the promise that it'll change you?

...I hope you don't feel like you need to change your body just for me. I like ya just the way you are. Love at first sight ain't my style anymore, but after I got to know you... just knowing who you are makes you the most beautiful person I've ever seen, both up there and down here. And besides, I've shown you exactly how I feel about my favorite parts of you plenty of times, haven't I, baby? Maybe I should remind you some more later tonight...?

If you wanna change, I'll support you. I know change is hard - fuck I know it's hard - but I'll be here for you through all of it. You just need to promise me that you're not doing it because you think you're not good enough for me already. And you also have to promise me that you're not going to go buying some shady instant cure potions from the first scumbag you see on TV! You can't trust any of 'em!"

(Thanks for considering me a Husk professional, by the way! I try my best! <3 In turn, thank you for your service with Angel Dust! I try my best by him but I'm always terrified I'll fuck it up... he deserves the best writing I can give him, but I know there's aspects of his life I'll never fully understand and I should be fucking grateful that I don't...)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk got asked a thing #irk blubbers about nothing #irk huskposts #irk talks to strangers

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storiesbyjes2g · 2 days

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3.112 Cutting ties

Love Day came upon us again, and it was so nice to have someone to celebrate with. Someone to celebrate, period. Sophia and I rarely did things traditionally, and I continued that trend by asking her out on a breakfast date. I suggested Vivianna's because it was the first place that came to mind, and I really liked their food. But Sophia was in goofball mode and said I wanted to see my girlfriend. I didn't like her saying that, but I loved seeing her in high spirits in those days, so I let it ride. When we got there, the host seated us at the same table from last time, and that sent her even more.

"It's a sign, Luca! If she's our server again, it's means you were meant to be."

I shook my head at her.

"You are way too high on life right now."

She gasped, still giggling at her silly joke.

"Luca! She's here! I think she's coming this way!"

I was still shaking my head when Yasmine walked up.

"Happy Love Day," she said drily. "Y'all don't have restaurants in Oasis Springs?"

"Of course we do," Sophia said before I had a chance to even think of a response. "But we love this one."

"Hmph. You must really love this food. I wouldn't unfriend someone and still show up at their job. Are you ready to order?"

Sophia looked at me in surprise but also trying to hide more giggles.

"Uhh...yeah, we're ready," I said, unsure if I should even respond to the first part.

When I finally looked at her, I saw her face matched her dry tone. Generally, she wasn't the cheeriest sim, but something was off. Granted, I was probably the last sim she wanted to see, but she should have been over that. Something else had to be going on, and I asked if she was okay.

"What do you care? I can't do this right now. I'll send someone else."

She hurried away into the kitchen, leaving us utterly confused.

"What in the world was that?" Sophia asked. "And you unfriended her?"

"Yeah! She's been sending me mean messages ever since-"

"You broke up?"

"Would you stop with that?? She wasn't my girlfriend!"

I couldn't understand why she found this situation so amusing. It annoyed me, but her laughter was so contagious. I couldn't help but laugh, too.

"Did she look different to you?" I asked.

"Sure did. I think she's pregnant."

"Pregnant? Yasmine? No way."

"She's definitely pregnant, babe."

"How do you know? She's not showing."

"Women know these things!"

"Hmph. Some sims don't need to be parents," I said under my breath. At least I thought I did.

"Luca!"

"What? It's true. She doesn't want kids right now. And she's mean...self-absorbed... Can you imagine her raising children?"

"I mean...I don't disagree, but... It's still not a nice thing to say. Maybe taking care of someone else will be good for her."

Nice or not, I meant every word. It was hard not to get upset about it. Sims all around us kept popping up pregnant unexpectedly while Sophia and I woohoo'd each other's brains out to no avail. WE want a baby! Why won't it happen for us? It wasn't fair. But I didn't want to ruin our date with my petty, jealous thoughts. That rant would have to remain in my head.

"Anyway... You excited about moving tomorrow?"

"You know it! I can hardly believe it."

"Yeah, seriously. I've been thinking about that house for so long... I have to keep reminding myself this is real life."

My Social Bunny chime went off, so I checked to see who sent me a message.

"Oh...it's Maira."

"Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're surprised your friend is messaging you."

"I'm not surprised. It's just...I don't know. Every time I hear from her, I feel bad."

"How come?"

"Because I'm such a bad friend to her."

Sophia's lip quivered.

"I highly doubt that."

"It's true though! I never call her. She's always the one reaching out. Even back in the day it was like that. When I was open to dating her-well, she says we did date, but whatever. I got mixed signals, so I kinda stopped putting energy into our friendship. Then I met Yasmine-"

"While you were talking to me," she said sarcastically.

Like a light switch flicking on, I understood why she continued to joke about me and Yasmine. She still felt some kind of way about realizing she wasn't the only one I was talking to, and this was her brand of petty behavior. I shook my head because I knew she would never let that go, and the jokes were a permanent part of our marriage.

"Yes, I was talking to you. I met Yasmine and Chi Chi-"

"I thought you didn't date her."

"I didn't. She came to my classes a lot and invited me to her house a few times."

She eyed me suspiciously, but I continued my story.

"Dating, having female friends, and all of that was new to me. I didn't know how to say no to her. I couldn't say no to her; you know how she is. And I was talking to you on top of dealing with my own issues... It was a crazy time, and I didn't know how to handle it all, so I ended up neglecting Maira. I feel bad because it wasn't like that in the beginning."

"You didn't have any distractions then."

"Yeah...that's true."

"Do you think it's time to let her go? Everyone's not meant to be in your life forever."

"I know. That might be part of the issue. I want to be a good friend while being respectful to you, but I honestly don't know how she fits into my life anymore. But severing the relationship? I don't think I want to do that. At least not yet."

"Okay." She turned back to her food and took a few bites before a very obvious idea let up her face. "Since we're moving now, we should do a combo celebration! We can turn my birthday party into a housewarming party! Invite her to that."

"Oooh good thinking! You know I married you for your brains."

"Ah ha! The truth comes out."

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #yasmine angel

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