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celestie0 · 7 months ago

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kickoff! reader who is stalking gojos page and accidentally likes one of his oldest posts. she panics and turns off her phone, without unliking it.

kickoff!gojo who is re reading your guys instagram messages and you text him while he’s doing this. he scrambles to come up with a reason as to why he read your message instantly

kickoff! reader who tries to watch soccer games to understand what’s happening. she probably yells offsides at everything. gojo can only smile at her and offer to help her out

kickoff! gojo who takes a picture of your silhouette in front of those statues you meet up at during the sunset (without your knowledge) and makes it his lock screen. you ask him about it but he just pretends that it’s a soccer goal and the sunset behind it.

kickoff! reader who finds herself thinking of satoru way too much. will see basically anything and be reminded of him. “oh a pair of sunglasses? gojo would like those” “hm, they started selling a strawberry tea? gojo would drink that”

kickoff! gojo who loves the sims. unironically makes a sim version of him and reader. tbh he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he just starts thinking about reader and starts adding her features. thinks it’s funny to make them have “fun time”

kickoff! reader who is looking through the game pictures she takes and finds herself staring at gojo. doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until mina walks in on her. think peter parker and gwen stacy

kickoff!gojo who has a full “project m’bappe” for your future kids. starts the kids off with a soccer plush and it leads to them being absolute powerhouses in toddler leagues

kickoff! reader who used to play soccer as a kid. threw a tantrum in the middle of a game because she decided she hated it. only started to like it again because of gojo

kickoff! gojo who keeps a printed out picture of the two of you in his wallet. Suguru took it at the frat party when gojo kissed you. around you is blurry and flashing lights, in the middle of the chaos is gojos lips pressed against yours. His hand is holding your waist, you’re slightly on your tippy toes to reach him. He sometimes zones off when paying because the picture catches his eye

BABE……..WHEN I TELL YOU IM BLUSHING N SQUEALING N KICKING MY FEET SM RN…..UHHH I THINK U MIGHT HAVE TO JUST TAKE OVER WRITING THE SERIES FOR ME??? bc i went thru sm emotions reading these pls 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

ok first of all tysm for thinking of these and sending them to me???? i genuinely cannot believe youve made headcanons for my fic that’s so surreal n i will forever remember this 😭😭

BUT ALSO THESE ARE SO ACCURATE PLS and all the little details omg it means sm that youve noticed all these lil thinfs throughout the fic n their relationship n i cld cry rn 😭😭

pls excuse me for addressing each n every one of these bc im so excited by them i fear this ask will be long so i’m adding a keep reading loool

sobsosbsosbsbsossbb the headcanons ab their digital fuckups LMAOO omg reader is 100% the type to be stalking him at 3am even tho she swears shes not even THAT down bad for him n then she loses all feeling in her face when she realizes she liked a post from when he was like in high school or sumn🧍🏻‍♀️there’s no coming back from that LMFAOO but i feel like gojo wldnt even notice it bc he probs gets a lot of notifs so she’s safe this time around 😭😭 BUT YOURE ALSO SO RIGHT AB HIM REREADING MESSAGES N THEN GETTING SPOOKED WHEN HE REALIZES SHE SAW THAT HE READ IT RIGHT AWAY LMAO i feel like he’d pull something like “uhhhh i was just about to trxt you, that’s why” and she’s like “🤨 this is the fifth time that’s allegedly happened”

aww reader trying to understand soccer for him 😭 thats so cute bahah also i made another headcanon recently from another anon who mentioned gojo streaming the world cup hehe it’d be so cute if reader shows up to the frat game nights in the jersey of the team that gojo’s rooting for bc she’s just trying to be a supportive girlfriend n she gets excited watching the game but she’s actually got no clue what tf is going on 💀 but gojo adores her for it so thats ok

the lockscreeennn that’s so cute 😭 also i love the idea of reader being his muse too :”) like he doesn’t know much about photography but bc of her he’s like kinda curious about it now so he’s always taking pictures of her w his phone while she’s not looking :”) i imagine his camera roll is just a bunch of candids of her while she’s dissociating off into the distance or something 🤣 n he’s like “wow so pretty im so good at this”

OK BUT READER IS ME THINKING AB GOJO EVERYWHERE I GO LMAOO no but srs that one made heart skip a beat bc how sweeettt is that 😭 i think that is a true mark of love where u think of someone everywhere you go :”) for gojo, i imagine that anytime he sees anything scenic or colorful or something like blooms of flowers or a nice sky he thinks of how she wld probably really love to take pics of it n he gets sad she’s not there to do so

okk im down for sims boyfriend gojo 🤣 and wdym by fun time omg 😭 pls dont tell me it’s possible to make people BONK on sims. ive seen a lot of tiktoks recently about how they added gojo to stardew valley n ppl have been marrying him lmfaoo i wonder if gojo wld try to marry her in sims 💀 cant tell if thats cute or creepy PLS tbh i’d probs be like “aww babe”🧍🏻‍♀️

and YES AB THE ONE WHERE SHE STARES AT GOJO’s PICS THATS PRACTICALLY CANON, also, there was supposed to be a scene exactly like that in ch8 where mina walks in on her staring at the pics she was editing for her professor 😭😭 so ur 100% right on. i just bet he looks so handsome in those photos cuz he’s concentrated n sweaty n probs looks really determined n in his element tbf i’d be starinf at those pics too LOL

YOURE SO RIGHT HAHA he’d make sure their kids are soccer prodigies 😭😭 startin them YOUNG. reader’s like “dont u think they’ve practiced enough today…they’re supposed to go to that birthday party at noon” and he’s like “THE GRIND NEVER STOPS😤🔥” 💀💀 unironically the type of dad that wakes his kids up at 5am on summer break to take em to soccer bootcamp or sumn 😭😭 ok but he knows theyre just kids n lets them have fun haha obviously but he just has high expectations for them lmaoo

im so tender to the idea of reader having played soccer in her youuuuthh how cute wld it be if she unknowingly also had a crush on gojo back when they were kids (maybe there was some sort of co-ed game they played ONCE when their elementary schools organized it n she was like omg who’s that boy over theree n it’s just 8 y/o gojo who’s got all the 2nd grade girlies swooning even back then 🤣) but in adulthood she probably doesnt rememebr that at all haha OMGGGG I NEED TO MAKE THIS CANON BC HOW ADORABLE WOULD IT BE IF GOJO’s MOM HAD TAKEN A PICTURE OF THE GAME BACK THEN N U CAN SEE LITTLE GOJO N LITTLE READER ARE IN THE SAME PHOTO im gonna sob???? im so inspired by these rn??? anon??? can i fr hug u through the screen???

omggg ok im deceased im dead ab the PICTURE IN HIS WALLET. THAT IS SO HUSBAND CODED and adorabke asf i just might melt rn 😭 him getting distarcted while paying kakskddjhd also i can imagine him having a picture in his wallet of her in her cap n gown on n stoles n everything during graduation or something bc it reminds him of their college days :”) n when he’s playing away games during national league he’s always looking at it when he’s away from home bc he misses her

also i feel like suguru might’ve taken the photo as a polaroid 🤔 now i headcanon that kickoff reader also has a polaroid camera bc why wouldnt she lmfaoo 🤣 but just imagine the polaroid relationship wall LOL its so corny but i wld want them to make one together 😩💕

screaming. crying. feeling so inspired rn. cheesing. cheeks r hurting. love u sm anon srs if you have more i will gobble them up like a turkey. LOVE YOU <333

#I MEAN JUST HOW FUCKINF SWEET ARE MY READERS I CANT RN #😭😭😭#kickoff #asks #anon

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aangelinakii · 2 months ago

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ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU.

— lights, camera, action!

summary : when you star in a film with a-lister bruce wayne, you can't help but be starstruck.

note : i was going to make this gn, but i found it difficult to describe the reader in a way that it could go both ways, so the reader will be female described :)

warning : mention of death, but not in detail like at all it's just in passing

when you'd gotten the call-back, nothing could have prepared you for kissing the bruce wayne.

bruce wayne was a-list; no, higher than that, if that were even possible. though, for him, anything was possible. he was not just an actor, he was a star.

and it wasn't like you were unknown, wasn't like you didn't know the role would include a kiss — it was a romance, for goodness' sake! — but part of you felt you shouldn't be here. someone like diana prince, perhaps. she was glamorous. she would fit here.

you weren't born on money, your status was achieved. your place here was deserved. but, beside a man like bruce wayne — status ascribed — you couldn't help but feel small.

yet, despite it all, here you stood before the man, on a set built to resemble an old world war-time train station. films were getting bigger now — bigger and better — and it felt like the platform you stood upon had been made from real brick, and the fake locomotive behind you could have been mistaken for real as it puffed pale steam.

once more to see you focused on a pair of forbidden lovers in the time of the second world war. in the modern day, films struggled to replicate the feel of older, war-time movies, but this picture would change the game. that, you were sure of.

fidgeting with the fuzzy fabric of your green military jacket, running the lines over in your head, you looked over at the man before you, dressed in an old fashioned military costume also, although missing the jacket. his character, charles, would be going away to the front line, whilst your character, emmeline, would stay in your town to tend to the wounded.

today's schedule, after almost three months, you were filming the final scene.

after a long, unwinding love story, charles and emmeline share their first, and possibly last, kiss before charles catches the express, perhaps to never be seen again.

a makeup brush came to blot at the side of your nose, and someone came to perfect the perch of bruce's military cap on his head. both assistants disappeared just as quickly as they popped up, and the director bellowed.

"camera!" and it signalled to you and bruce that the digital camera positioned beside the two of you, stood opposite each other, was rolling.

another assistant stepped into frame, holding a clapperboard. "final scene. take one." snap!

immediately, your posture straightened, and you felt yourself take on the character of emmeline; a woeful lady, distraught, heartbroken. her one true love, as soon as she has got him, will be going away, possibly losing his life in the process.

"and.. action!"

everything in the studio went silent; not a hum, not a sound. not even the extras milling about far in the background spoke.

forehead creasing softly, you took a shaky breath as you looked on at bruce.

"charles, i..." you muttered, words a whisper past your red lips. an unsure step forward was followed by the soft click of your heel. "are you sure? you could always stay here, tend to the wounded by my side."

even as emmeline spoke those words, she knew charles would not oblige. he had a duty for his country.

his bottom lip trembled slightly, so softly you could miss it if you blinked, and then he shook his head, eyelids creasing as they fell halfway down his eyes.

"you know i can't, emmeline." when bruce spoke, he owned the transatlantic accent of the time; one the two of you had taken various dialect lessons to master, and now you sounded like you would fit right in on the set of casablanca. "my name is in the lists. i am fighting for my country."

bruce took a small step closer.

the words clung to your throat for a moment before pushing them out, eyes piercing up into him beneath upturned brows.

"will i ever see you again, charles?"

that line was supposed to be the killer, one quoted for years on end. it needed to be perfect. you would be lying if you didn't say you'd been practicing it the most; in your trailer, in your bathroom, as you got ready for bed, as you made breakfast. just to find the right tone.

hand a tremor, bruce reached up to pull the hat from his head, and clutch it dearly to his chest. he didn't reply.

your pleading eyes remained on him for a moment longer, lines tugging at the corners of your mouth.

after an agonising moment, you tore them away, stepping back gingerly, hands coming up to brush against the material of your jacket. his jacket.

"oh, i beg your pardon," you hummed hurriedly, moving to peel the military jacket from your shoulders. "i should return this to you. if you aren't in uniform, they'll reprimand you."

but before you could remove it, charles stepped closer once more, and tugged the sleeves back up your shoulders, almost too rushed. "no, no, emmeline, i..." he removed his hands sheepishly, stepping back. "please. keep it. keep me with you, whilst i am no longer here. you will forget me, i'm sure, but a part of you shall always remain here. at home. with you."

as he spoke, your eyes widened with each word, in awe, in shock, in adoration.

jaw quivering, you worked to pull your mouth shut.

"i would never forget you." words barely above a whisper, the mics hidden in your clothes aching to pick it up. you shifted, voice slightly louder, more sincere. "charles, i would never forget you."

bruce edged closer, still clutching his green cap to his chest, eyebrows beginning to softly upturn.

ever so slowly, ever so agonisingly, bruce leaned in, until your lips touched, and you melted into the sweet embrace. beside you, you were acutely aware of the way the camera began to slowly move in towards you.

once the camera had rolled forward to the end of the short track, you and bruce pulled apart, lips still hovering inches away from one another, aching to touch again.

"and cut!"

as if you had never been in such an intimate scene, you and bruce pulled away, the characters of emmeline and charles completely dissipating from your statures.

crew milled about, and bruce looked down at you, taking a water bottle from his assistant.

"you okay?" he hummed, and your heart thumped, still starstruck. no longer were you admiring the poster of him in your childhood bedroom, you were gazing up at the real thing.

a small smile appeared upon your lips, and you nodded, grateful. "yeah, you were great."

"me?" he practically scoffed on his mouthful of water. "after the release, you'll be bigger than me, (name). promise."

#aangelinakii #dc #dc comics #dc imagines #dc reactions #dc headcanons #dc universe #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne headcanons #bruce wayne imagines

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mikrokcsmos · 2 years ago

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My Universe

synopsis; in which you get lost and Yoongi finds you.

pairing; idol!min yoongi x non-idol!reader

genre; angst, fluff, airport au

rating; PG-13

warnings; minor cursing (nothing explicit), reader has a minor panic attack, overprotective suga baby, we love a caring and attentive boi

w/c; 2,606

a/n; originally lost this entire draft and it took me three days to gain the energy and drive back to write it all over again from scratch. honestly though, I like this version better. anyways. enjoy, y’all. like/reblog and please leave some love. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOONGI. this is a repost from my old account.

Yoongi hated the flashing lights.

They always blinded his vision and made him see a plethora of stars, the kind that didn’t involve nightly activities between you two, when he saw not only stars, but galaxies. No, these were the ones that didn’t exist to the normal fellow travelers making their way through the airport around him.

He also hated being singled out. Usually the reserved and quiet one within the group, with very few words to say. He’ll admit, he’s been able to loosen up over the years cause he got used to the constant attention, the pushy reporters, the even more personal bubble bursting paparazzi that had no moral boundaries apparently to get one stupid picture of him. Even if you couldn’t see his face, they still went at each other like hungry wolves fighting for the same prey.

It sickened him. But at the same time, he knew it was their way of making a living. So, he allowed it to happen, to an extent, now choosing to mainly ignore them with his head down and earphones in. Thank goodness he has bodyguards to do most of the brunt work with keeping them at bay, so he didn’t look like the bad guy in the situation. All he had to do was swiftly walk in between the hefty men that no one would dare to get close too. Easy peasy. Smiling underneath his black mask, he thought of you, and couldn’t wait to see you.

The only problem was, you weren’t used to the constant attention, you weren’t able to push through the pushy reporters, you weren’t able to keep walking with your eyes being blinded every five seconds by a different camera. Which made you start to get heart palpitations, becoming short of breath.

You were having a panic attack.

I mean, seriously? How were you supposed to know that there was going to be a ridiculous amount of people here to see your boyfriend at nearly, your eyes glanced up at the digital clock displayed above the flight signs, 2:27 in the morning?! You grunted to yourself, your hand pushing through the crowd and surprisingly in between the security surrounding Yoongi. A little detail you also failed to consider in your obvious fool proof plan.

You were so close to Yoongi, you almost grazed the back of his black leather jacket. It was a taller, broad chested, reporter that was holding a video camera that shoved you away just as you were going too. Causing you to finally get pulled into the whirlpool of paparazzi and fans alike that were desperate to gain the rapper’s attention. Like you.

Okay, so this wasn’t your best idea at surprising Yoongi. You’ll admit. The original plan was for him to meet you at the unmarked black SUV that he would be climbing into at the end of his airport journey. Where you could embrace and catch up in private. But this time, you thought you would spice things up a little. Your idea? To surprise him inside the airport, and not tell him you were going to surprise him. Cause, well, then it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?

Bad idea. Extremely bad idea. You thought about kneeling down to try and calm yourself, but realized that could end up fatal on your part since it would make you easier to get trampled over by the herd of feet you can hear squeak, click clack and stomp on the shiny, freshly cleaned, tile. It was non-stop.

Your hands clutched the sides of your head as you whimpered, becoming over sensitive from all the constant noise. Bodies continued to brush past you, some more aggressively than most, almost throwing you off balance multiple times. You tried counting back from ten, which normally works, but not this time. You knew you only had one last resort. You had to call Yoongi.

A picture of you lit up the rapper’s phone screen. Simultaneously stopping the music he was currently listening to with his wireless bluetooth headphones and replacing it with the ringtone you picked out for your contact when you called, opting for your couple song. The picture was of you wearing an oversized hoodie that came over your knees with Yoongi’s face on it. You were sitting sideways on the couch with your bare legs curled underneath you in his private studio. One of the many pictures he cherished of you, meant for his eyes only. His heartbeat subconsciously picked up as he got the ceremonious butterflies in his stomach that never fail to appear with anything that involved you.

A monotone voice could be heard over the ringtone announcing your contact name that you gave yourself, Baby Girl 🥵. Giving him the choice of answering it or not by speaking through the headphones. Which he did, in a heartbeat. After snickering at the description of the emoji you chose, sweat emoji, you claiming that you know you always had that affect on him. You were right.

“Hey sweaty.” A quiet chuckle could be heard on his end of the phone, mentally patting himself on the back for the playful jab of your contact name in good humor. He continued talking a mile a minute.

“You would not believe the amount of people that are here so damn early. It’s actually insane. Probably the worst amount of reporters and whatnot in a long time, but I’m almost there and I can’t wait to–“

As the last body brushed against you rather aggressively, it caused you to stumble harshly forward onto the tiled floor, hands catching your fall and knees taking the brunt force of it all. You let out a broken whimper, only catching bits and pieces of Yoongi’s ramblings through the phone that laid a few feet ahead of you on the floor due to your sudden impact. You reached out and clutched it tightly with your fingers, pushing your body up in a semi sitting position, much like the one that can be seen in your contact photo in Yoongi’s phone. One hand flat against the tile, propping your upper body up. Legs curled next to you, sideways. All you wanted to do was cry out of frustration at everything going wrong. So, you did.

Staring down at the rare pearly white smile that beamed at you for your eyes only, used as Yoongi’s contact photo in your phone, only made your watery eyes overflow with tears that streaked down your cheeks in little rivers. Breaths slightly becoming shorter, making you gasp out a sob involuntarily. You quickly put the phone on speaker and set it on the floor in front of you, knowing you wouldn’t have the strength to hold it much longer.

His rambling was abruptly cut off, ears straining to hear what he thought he heard, though it was hard to be sure from all the raucous noise surrounding him. He went to speak again, but stopped himself when he for sure heard your watery gasp through the phone. His smile wiped off his face in an instant, turning to one of worry.

“Baby? Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” The questions flew out instinctually, him wanting to solve the situation as fast as possible. He knew you were having a panic attack. He could feel it in his gut as soon as he heard you, having helped you through them in the past.

He stopped his brisk walking pace and stood stock still, nearly making the security guard that was positioned directly behind him, plow into him, before catching his footing in time to avoid his client. He closed his eyes to try and get any clue from your end of the phone when you wouldn’t respond to him. As much as he wanted to freak out, he knew he had to stay the calm one between you two in order to find you before it got worse. He bit his lip in frustration, zoning out the nagging from his security guards to get him to continue on his foot path to the end destination, nearly wanting to let out a cry of his own when he heard it.

The same announcement over the airport loudspeakers that littered every corner of the building he was in, something to do about a travel package to Hawaii, he could hear echo through your side of the phone back at him. Okay, he thought rationally, so you were somewhere within the airport. That much could be certain. Now he needed just a little bit more to figure out where exactly you were located within the huge facility. Maybe…a sign? He thought logically. So, he asked you.

“Sweetie, you think you can read me some sort of sign near you so I can find you and help you? Please? I know it might be hard, but you can do it, baby. I believe in you. You got this.” He asked in his soothing voice he knows can get through to you in your current state of mind. Semi loud so you can hear what he says, but slowly and clearly.

You didn’t respond right away. Shaky and watery eyes immediately surveyed your surroundings in search of some kind of unique sign that could directly implicate your position on this tile floor that seems to get colder by the minute. You could literally feel the many pairs of eyes that walked by you on faces connected to bodies that didn’t even try to reach out and help you in the slightest. What a cruel world we live in, you thought bitterly. Though, you wondered, if you were in their shoes, would you have done any differently? And that thought alone sobered you up immediately. A fresh new set of tears falling down your cheeks in streams now.

There it was, the sign you were looking for. Directly above your head, ironically. It was a picture of a smiling, and blended family, much like your own, you thought with a watery smile. In bright red letters, and a snazzy font, it read ‘Family Doesn’t End With Blood’. You managed to somewhat clearly reiterate the sign you just read to your ever patient boyfriend, hoping and praying to all that is holy that it’ll be enough and you can soon be in the comfort of his arms.

As soon as he heard the words fall out of your mouth he opened his eyes and slowly turned his body in a circle, reading every sign his eyes found hoping that the next one he reads will be the one you just told him.

Bingo.

It wasn’t even that far from where he stood. He immediately pushed through the last throes of the crowd surrounding him, or what remained. It seemed like half splintered off upon getting what they needed from him already. He didn’t even care what the remaining vultures thought of him, or what berating he’ll surely receive from his head of security once they find out he fled them of his own accord. All he cared about was finding you, making sure you were safe, calming you, and holding you in his arms.

It’s like the life you two shared ran through his mind in flashes, like a reel of a film. It spurred him to pump his legs even harder, especially when he noticed the lone figure that half lay beneath the sign. Getting closer he could see how fast your chest rose and fell, the tears that littered your flushed cheeks, and your eyes that widened upon landing on him coming towards you. He could visibly see your body sag in relief, which made his heart flutter knowing he could make you feel so calm in a matter of a look. It was the same way with you, for him.

He slid the last few feet in front of you on his knees. Not wasting any time, he began searching your body for any kind of wounds or minor injuries that could’ve triggered your attack, hands hovering over every bit of your body he examined. He found none, except your hands and knees scraped up a bit. He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Good. Now to calm you down.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here, and you did so well. I’m so proud of you.” He praised you with a look so full of warmth, you couldn’t help but give a small, shaky smile in response. Feeling like a little kid again, you reached out to him with grabby hands. I need you now. A silent demand.

He encased your body with his arms, and gently pushed your head to lay where his heart is with one hand on the back of your head, the other brought your body impossibly closer than it already was, making you half lay on him now. With him supporting your body weight completely, you slumped into him in pure exhaustion, eyes closing and hands gripping the back of his jacket like you would never see him again after you departed. After a mere 4-5 minutes of listening to his heartbeat, your breathing returned to normal. Your eyes dried up. Your body regained its strength back.

You tried to unwrap yourself from him, but his response was to grip onto you even tighter, not wanting to let you go just yet. So, you let him. Returning the embrace with as much passion as he was. You lost track of how much time passed there on that tile floor, that oddly, didn’t feel as cold anymore.

It wasn’t until the head of Yoongi’s security cleared his throat loudly, did you look up from your position still attached to the rapper. Yoongi didn’t even flinch, making no attempt to acknowledge the man. Which left things in your hands. He stood off to the side of you two with his hands clasped together in front of his stomach, posture rigid, but eyes letting you know that he understood why your boyfriend broke the rules. He nodded at you once making eye contact and tilted his head in the direction of where the car garage was, subtly telling you that you guys needed to get up and it was time to go. Then he left, footsteps receding until you could hear them no more. That’s when you finally managed to get the rapper’s attention.

“Yoongs, can we go home now?” You asked meekly, voice sounding weak due to not getting much use of it for awhile. Your eyes must’ve been puffy for sure. They took the most damage.

You could feel him nod his head in the crook of your neck and reluctantly let you go. Yoongi stood up first, then extended his hand out to you to help you up off the floor. Gripping onto it tightly, you managed to raise yourself back up on your feet. He refused to let go of your hand even after you were up, instead opting to pull you flush to his side. You gave him a small smile of thanks, squeezing his hand, your silent way of saying ‘I love you’ to each other without words. He squeezed your hand back twice. ‘I love you too’. Your other hand finding purpose in the crook of his elbow, holding it gently yet firmly, you leaned into his side.

And then you walked in sync towards the car garage in the now unnaturally calm atmosphere, security once again flanking the both of you now.

Just two lovers wanting nothing more than to collapse into each other in their shared bed, at their shared home, where they can create their own little universe of stars only they could see.

#min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #jungkook angst #suga x you #suga x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi fic #fic; my universe #masterlist; old account #main masterlist #min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi

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unpluggedfinancial · 3 months ago

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How I Force-Fed the Orange Pill and Sent a Friend $50 in Bitcoin

Sometimes, the best way to help a friend is by giving them a push in the right direction—especially when it comes to understanding Bitcoin. Yesterday, I did just that. I crammed the orange pill down a friend's throat (figuratively, of course), made him download Coinbase, and sent him $50 in Bitcoin. Here's how it all went down and why I believe this is the start of something bigger for them.

The Backstory

My friend has always been skeptical of Bitcoin and cryptocurrencies in general. Like many, they've heard about Bitcoin, but the concept seemed too complex, risky, or downright unnecessary. Every time I tried to bring it up, I was met with the same response: "I just don't get it" or "Isn't that just a fad?" But I knew that with a little nudge, they could see the bigger picture.

The Orange Pill Moment

So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Instead of trying to explain Bitcoin for the hundredth time, I made the decision to give them a taste of the real thing. I told them, "Download Coinbase, and I'll send you $50 in Bitcoin right now." It took a bit of convincing, but eventually, they relented. The key was making it easy for them to take the first step.

Sending the $50 in Bitcoin

Once they had Coinbase set up, I sent over $50 worth of Bitcoin. It wasn’t just about the money—it was about showing them the power of digital assets. That $50 was a tangible representation of the digital revolution happening before our eyes. It was a way to cut through the noise and give them something they could hold (digitally) and watch grow.

Why I Did It

Bitcoin isn't just another investment; it's a fundamental shift in how we think about money, value, and freedom. By giving my friend that $50 in Bitcoin, I wasn’t just sharing an asset—I was sharing a belief in a decentralized future where people have more control over their finances. I wanted them to experience the feeling of owning Bitcoin, even if just a small amount, and to see how it could change their perspective on money.

What Happens Next?

Will this friend dive deep into the Bitcoin rabbit hole? Only time will tell. But now, they have a stake in the game. They'll watch that $50 fluctuate, and with any luck, they'll start asking more questions, doing their own research, and eventually, they'll come to see what I and millions of others see in Bitcoin.

Conclusion

Sometimes, the best way to help someone understand Bitcoin is by showing them rather than telling them. By force-feeding my friend the orange pill and giving them a small amount of Bitcoin, I’ve planted a seed. Whether it grows into a full-fledged understanding of the Bitcoin revolution is up to them—but at least now, they’re on the path.

If you’ve got friends who are on the fence about Bitcoin, consider giving them a little push. After all, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step—or in this case, a single transaction.

Call to Action

Have you orange-pilled a friend? Share your experiences in the comments, or better yet, send them a little Bitcoin and see where it takes them. Let’s keep spreading the word and helping others see the light of financial freedom.

Take Action Towards Financial Independence

If this article has sparked your interest in the transformative potential of Bitcoin, there's so much more to explore! Dive deeper into the world of financial independence and revolutionize your understanding of money by following my blog and subscribing to my YouTube channel.

🌐 Blog: Unplugged Financial Blog Stay updated with insightful articles, detailed analyses, and practical advice on navigating the evolving financial landscape. Learn about the history of money, the flaws in our current financial systems, and how Bitcoin can offer a path to a more secure and independent financial future.

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👍 Like, subscribe, and hit the notification bell to stay updated with our latest content. Whether you're a seasoned investor, a curious newcomer, or someone concerned about the future of your financial health, our community is here to support you on your journey to financial independence.

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dawnthefluffyduck · 9 months ago

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First project is done :D

Actually, even though I'm in two studios this semester, I'm likely only going to post class projects for my digital one, since the other is a figure drawing class, and I can't exactly post drawings of other real people (we will do a self portrait, so I *might* share that one if it doesn't turn out as inaccurate as the last one did).

Project notes under the cut as always (and bonus, I got some cut out! Picture below)

I can't lie, this isn't exactly how I wanted it to turn out. I actually started to hand draw in more complex shading, but when I opened the file this morning, everything I had done over the weekend was completely gone (weird computer issue, not because I forgot to save it). I ended up having to add in some reallly simple shadows at the last minute (just because some of these really needed some modicum of depth in order to work), and barely got this done in time. But, it's done, and it's turned in :)

This project was meant to familiarize us with using Adobe Illustrator; we were told to make a sheet of 6-10 stickers that represented a place we can't actually go to. I actually did a very similar project last spring; that time, we were told to depict a place that we wanted to go to, so a real place. This one was was a bit more abstract, and I'm in my baby-ex-christian era, so I really wanted to do heaven and hell for this. It felt like tasteful blasphemy, and it felt nice doing this for a prompt that implied that these places weren't real. Made me happy :D my professor loved the idea, so I took it and ran with it haha.

The class loved it; mine was the first one they wanted to discuss during critique after the only volunteer went, and it felt really nice. I put a ton of time into this so I'm happy to see it pay off even if it's not exactly how I wanted it to turn out.

I'll probably play around with it more? I won't be doing the complex shading I initially had planned because that was not a fun experience to have to redo. Some color and shape adjustments are needed for me to be fully happy with it though, so that'll probably be a "my personal free time" thing.

I went to war with the Cricut in the art building, but managed to get one set to cut well :D my classmates took some of the ones I cute out, which made me really happy. I'll be making some more to give to friends so I'll probably post more about my paper cutter woes on my alt within the next week haha

If anyone is interested in having some, lmk and I'll see if I can figure out how to mail them? I can't say for sure if I'll be doing that just yet, but if some people are interested I'll look into it!

Anyway, I'm still proud of these, and I think that even with the hiccups included, this still turned out light-years better than the last time I did this project (or, a veeery similar one). Will definitely be decreasing the detail scale on the next project though :')

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michellemisfit · 1 year ago

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So I’ve had a pencil piece sketched out for May @shamelesscreatorsnetwork for… well, pretty much the entire month! And every time I decided to work on it I found 200 things that needed to be done first (clean my room, tidy my desk, organise my art materials, sharpen all my pencils, hoover, cook, do laundry…), and whenever I did actually sit down I would get all my pencils ready, all my reference pictures, the sketch… and then I’d look at it for a while, before putting it away again, promising that *tomorrow*. It’s late now, anyway. And the light is fading. And someone is going to interrupt me soon because it’s dinner time, so starting isn’t really worth it… but tomorrow! Tomorrow I will totally work on it.

So I built up this anxiety, over this drawing. The sketch is good! I really really like it. I think y’all will like it. …but what if I screw it up? And also, what do I even want to do with it? Like, full detail pencil? Coloured pencil? Cartoon-y felt tip pen? If I can’t decide then I’m definitely gonna screw it up, right? Right??

So that’s the anxiety spiral that’s been going on in my head over this drawing.

Today started off just like that. I had 3 hours before the next thing on my schedule. And I decided I was going to finally do it! And then I went and had breakfast, cause breakfast is important. And then I tidied away all my other art materials, because our holidays are over soon, and I need to start packing. And I put on laundry. And I folded some clothes.

And then I just refused to continue this… stupid game of chicken I was playing with myself. I took photographs of the sketch as it was, and if I’m gonna fuck it up, then so be it. I can just post the sketch. Or do something digital with it. Or, hell, I can redraw it from the sketch. I can do whatever, because anything is better than what my brain is currently doing to me.

So I put pencil to paper, and I started shading. And you know what? It’s going to be just fine…

Turns out I haven’t forgotten how to use a pencil.

And I want to beat myself up for it because ‘oh my god I could have been done with this weeks ago if I wasn’t being so bloody stupid about it’… but no. I refuse. Shit in my brain went weird. That’s true. And I did always know that I hadn’t actually over night lost the ability to draw. But that doesn’t make the anxiety I was having less real. And acknowledging that is important, because I’m not often good at being kind to myself. I’m trying. Just like with the drawing, it’s one step at a time, right?

I guess I just… wanted to share that.

~EDIT: It is done

#shamelessnet #Mys art #anxiety #Mys stuff #sometimes my brain goes weird #and that’s okay #it happens #and it’s okay to give myself time to work through things #but sometimes I also just really need to tell myself to get the duck over it and get the duck on with it #not everything I create has to be perfect because I’m sure as hell not perfect #And. That. Is. Okay.

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have-some-heals · 1 year ago

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Ardent-2 & Nova on the future

⚠️ Spoilers ⚠️

A ring of light circled the small ghost as it flexed in and out adjusting to the new shell the titan had found for them.

“This feels a bit plain” Nova said after a moment. The ghost’s titan was laid out on the ground surrounded by old magazines that had been collected. A large sheet of paper laid in front of them. Gently the titan flipped through pages and every now and again ripped one out.

“The idea is to blend in while standing out… it’s called peacocking” the titan pointed at an article in the magazine. “You said you want Veles to notice you so maybe this new shell will do the trick” ripping another page out of the old magazine Ardent-2 added it to a pile of other photos.

“And what is it you are doing again” the ghost asked after expanding in anger but biting back the argument and instead changing the subject to the odd behavior of the titan.

“After the mask incident last week I went to Eris to talk and she said something about this being one of the methods her therapist recommended for trauma… it’s called a seeing sheet.” The titan sat up a bit and looked at the ghost. “ I’m supposed to take pictures from these old printings and cut them out. Then I stick them in this bigger paper and I hang it somewhere to remind me what I’m aiming for…”

“Isn’t that why you guardians have that Bray site where you press the little add button and things get added to a digital folder?” The ghost moved over to the computer and pulled the screen up navigating to the built in app. The message icon in the corner flashed as the ghost looked through what the titan had already added. “Are you planning a togetherness ceremony?” The ghost asked as the images were mostly stills of other events. Every few adds there would be some image of a dress or suit, or a food arrangement, a table setting, and even some rings”

“No, that’s just in case one day they ever do get to talking” the titan said standing up after a few moments. He moved to the screen and skimmed the messages deleting a few from a particular warlock.

One message caught his eye though and he quickly opened it.

Ardent-2,

Come see me when you can,

Crow

The message was short but had been sent recently. Ardent-2 waived his hand sending the screen away and set course for the helm. “Wonder what he could want with us”

———

The Helm looked the same as ever as Ardent-2 made his way to where he had been told crow was. The newer guardian rarely called on him so he figured it must be important.

Crow was standing in the hall where he normally stood, only Ardent was noticing some odd details. More books, more furniture… more stuff. ‘I wonder if they moved him into the hall’ the titan thought as he looked around.

“Guardian, thank you for joining me” Crow spoke softly and steadily as ever. “I hope I didn’t panic you with my message but glint insisted we see you in person to get a report on the headless ones.” Crow gestured to a small bench and indicted the titan to sit.

“Oh I’m not much of a researcher” The titan sat on the bench cautiously- Not putting all his weight on it. “And to be honest I’ve been out of sorts recently…” he looked over the other guardian a pang of guilt washing over him. Who was he to miss Amanda and pity himself when Amanda and Crow had- his thoughts were cut off.

“I understand. I know what it feels like to learn something shocking about yourself.” Crow offered the titan a smile and sat next to him. “When I found out I had caused, no had planned Caydes death…” Crow took a breath and then rested a hand in the titans back. “If you find you can’t keep looking back then I suggest you find something to look forward to.” He stood slowly and gave a nod to the titan before moving to a bookshelf to straighten a few of the books. “If you learn anything Glint would love to know… and here this was in Amanda’s things” Crow handed a photo of the titan and pilot working on his ship. The expo was covered in oil and Amanda was clearly laughing at him.

Ardent-2 took a moment to look over the photo before pocketing it. He then nodded at Crow as he stood. “I know it’s not my place but Amanda would give me a lashing if I didn’t say anything to ya while I was here… she’d be okay with you falling again. In fact, the Amanda I knew would be pretty upset with us both…” The titan didn’t hang about to talk more about the sensitive matter.

Crow waited till he was sure he was alone before opening the book where the photo had been inside there were a few other photos. The one in top now that of Amanda and a hunter who had taken over Caydes ship. The pair were working on the inside and it seemed like both were unaware of the photo being taken. He flipped the card over and traced the names with a finger.

Amanda & Ace, finally fixing Caydes comms

Crow closed the book and slid it back into its place. He hesitated a moment before pulling up his messages and entering the hunters information. He typed on word.

Ramen?

His finger hovered over the send button, his hand trembling slightly as he looked over the one word message. The words the titan had spoke rang true and Crow knew that like his dark past he had to move forward with this loss as well.

With a breath he pulled his hand back having sent the message before he could chicken out. Behind him the sound of sliding doors echoed down the hall. Soon the sound of Eris talking reached his ear.

“Don’t make me call yours”

#aceofcaydes01 #probably has many errors but meh #destiny 2 #shitty writing #fest of the lost should be more safe and like why don’t we have an Amanda mask?!#Amanda is dead so Crow needs a new wifey #spoliers

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redafi · 1 year ago

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So I’ve been gone for a while

Hi!

Sort-of-life-update:

School is being evil but it ends soon so there is freedom on the horizon

My teacher did not like my essay recently, still devastated over this (it was supposed to be about an aspect of a culture in the middle east. Because we were in our middle east unit. I went “oh I’ll write about common themes and symbolism in Israel!” And then found myself drowning in information about the history of Judaism instead… and when I learn something in the course of a project I have a habit of including what I’ve learned in my essay. It’s because I don’t outline properly.)

I am unwillingly being forced to face the fact that maybe everyone doesn’t have to like. have a council meeting with themselves in their head in order to convince themselves into brushing their teeth. May need to up my antidepressants, because GOD do I want my mom’s energy levels and she’s getting them SOMEHOW. Can’t imagine not living on a tiny energy budget. @ Universe GIVE ME A BIGGER ALLOWANCE

Watched a new anime with my younger sibling recently. We were taking care of the house while my parents took a three-day vacation to Las Vegas, and we watched an anime called “I'm the Villainess, So I'm Taming the Final Boss”. Absolutely hilarious to watch my younger sibling be seduced by an anime character, the poor dear.

I have been playing so much minecraft with Lex (younger sibling) that it’s actually kind of impressive. Normally I get burned out on a world within a few days, but I’ve managed to play on our current one to the point where I couldn’t convince Lex to let me put off the whole “ender dragon” thing. I was dragged along to defeat “Her Majesty, The Tyrant Of The End” like a very disgruntled cat on a leash: I just want to build farms and trade with villagers. Let me live my small town farm dreams. (The fact that I got a cat early in the game in this world definitely contributed to my not-yet-being-burnt-out. Minecraft dogs are adorable but I’m used to losing them because they fight. Cats? Not so much.) I’ll show you guys some stuff I’ve done later: I don’t make masterpieces, but I’m happy with my work regardless.

I read an amazing Harry Potter fic recently that I think was recced to me by a friend (and that reminds me that I should let them know that I finished it). I’ve never been a big fan of Snape, especially after growing more attached to the idea of becoming a teacher, but Snape in this fic? Harry is like “yes he’s a jerk but also he’s my favorite teacher because ~Potions~” Draco becomes a friend: he doesn’t get a choice in the matter. Sirius is alive and this is Important to me. (A Harry Potter fix-it fic is what began my adventure into fanfiction, actually. A fic about an OC, Lupin’s daughter, who likes to knit with her wand. Lupin does not know for a while, I don’t think. I can’t remember when she—Eleanor?—figures it out. The love imbued in her crafts gives people a one-time defense against the killing curse. It wasn’t the first fic I read, that was probably pjo and I was very careful about not revealing my presence on fan websites to family members, but it was recced to me by my older sister back when I was 8 or so and I asked her for the title about a year after joining Wattpad, which I did almost immediately after getting that rec) I will share the fic link soon, my dear friends, but I have more to say first

I finished a coloring page I was working on digitally, and I think it looks nice! I’ll show you guys soon, but I’m thinking I might add some lighting effects first—I shaded the lady in the picture with no clear direction for the light source because it was easier to think about at first. I think I planned to add a specific light direction after getting all of the details down, so that’s what I’m going to do! And then I’ll show you, of course.

I am planning on attempting to turn my closet space into an office space (my room was originally supposed to be two rooms, so the closet space is actually big enough to do this if I take some stuff out)

I got caught up on Lore Olympus! Love that story.

I’m attempting to draw some patches for a friends jacket: I warned him that I’m really not that great of an artist, but he doesnt appear to care so flowers it is

#Red’s projects #Life Update!#Hi I’m alive #I probably still will not be very active until june 9th/10th or so (when my term ends)#but I figured I’d say hi since I have some things to share

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adventuresinobx · 2 years ago

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A Trip to the Alps

Drew Starkey x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Drew invites you to join him for some golfing weekend in the Swiss Alps. Your only interest is sharing the hot tub with him to help relieve his aching muscles in more ways than one.

A/N: OK I really am back this time around, I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get this up, but here’s some hot tub sex with Drew because let’s be honest who wouldn’t want to have sex with this man in a hot tub... Shout out to my bestie @starkeyobx for giving me the details of the idea!

Warnings: All the smut - sex in a hot tub, the usual x

Drew had to head to some event in Switzerland and was offered a plus one. Frankly, if he hadn’t been offered a plus one, he’d still find a way to get you there. You two had been together for several months now, but work kept you apart enough as it was, so when you found out he was heading abroad for some special golf event, you wanted to come too. He was grateful to have you there. In his career, he’d seen so many places in the world but it was obviously different when he had someone special by his side - and you were that person to him.

“How was golf today baby? Did you win?” you asked as you heard Drew let himself into the alpine style lodge you were staying in with him. It was beautiful; there was so much wood everywhere, views of the mountains for days, and a big balcony with a hot tub on it. Perfect for the pair of you to relax in after a long day. Even at this time of year, the snow was still falling over the Alps and it made quite the beautiful scene. You’d spent the days on the balcony wrapped in (Drew’s) warm clothes and painting the scenes in front of you. Work had been hectic for you recently, so you definitely needed all this time to enjoy yourself and do something a little different.

He came behind you, arms wrapping around your body tightly as he crouched down and looked over your shoulder at what you were painting. He loved how you managed to capture the scenes in front of you so perfectly and how you just had an eye for drawing. He could sit and admire your paintings every single day.

“Exhausted. My muscles are aching. I think I’ve walked seven kilometres today,” he murmured, his arms still wrapped tight around you as you put your paintbrush down and gave him your full focus. He glanced to the side, his eyes landing on the hot tub nearby. "Think it might finally be time to get that going, don't you think?"

It only took 10 minutes for Drew to fire it up and he was already waiting for you in it when you returned to the balcony in your favourite bikini and a big fluffy hotel dressing gown draped around you.

"There's my girl," he mumbled, scooting over in the hot tub to make more space for you. You would have rathered him stay where he was mind, so you could be sat even closer together. Ignoring his plan to give you more space, you just settled yourself on his lap and took his hands, wrapping them around your waist. His camera was perched nearby and you grabbed it, turning it so you could snap a picture of the two of you together. It was a digital camera, housed in an old fashioned styled one, and a gift from his mom. He never went anywhere without it. It was the third person in your relationship, but you loved it and the way he captured your memories. There was nothing better than seeing life from his eyes.

"Smile baby," you said, leaning back into him as you took a few photos. In true photographer fashion, Drew had always encouraged you to take more than one photo. He kissed you softly on the head for another photo, his eyes trailing the path your hands made as you placed the camera on the table.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing your head softly as he took in the view of you and also the surroundings. It was truly beautiful, the way the sky was almost dark blue as day turned to night. There were hardly any lights,so the stars and moon lit up the clear sky. It was beautiful. Light pollution in Los Angeles, which you both called your home, was insane but out here in the middle of the Swiss Alps, you could see the sparkling of the stars stretching right out in the distance.

"I love you too." You turned around to cuddle into him, adjusting comfily in your seat (his lap). You felt your bikini top, a little tight, almost painfully tug at your body. You shifted uncomfortably, stretching around to tug at the strap. "Do you mind -" you asked, already knowing the answer. He reached around to help untie it for you, carefully and delicately undoing the strings as you held it onto your body and sunk under the water to keep away from prying eyes from nearby rooms whilst it was still a little bit light. Once under the water, you tossed it onto a nearby chair and resumed your position on his lap.

"So much better," you sighed, leaning your back on his shoulder and Drew's hands moved to your tummy. He rested them on your bare skin, smiling at you as he gently dragged his arms around your body. You sighed, mumbling into his skin as you turned your head and buried yourself in his neck. You pressed a kiss to his neck, grinning into the kiss as you heard a little moan escape from his lips. He had told you once, whilst drunk, that he didn’t really moan in bed - but it wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying it, it was just one of those things he didn’t realise he had been missing until he met you.

“Baby, gotta stop that,” he mumbled, his hands moving eagerly all over you as he explored your body like it was the first time again. “Making me feel too good.”

“That’s the aim,” you teased back, only sucking harder on his neck now and leaving a little purple shaped bruise there to tell everyone he was yours. Hopefully someone could cover that when he had to have his interview for the event he was at the next day.

“Fuck,” he groaned out, pulling you around so you were now facing him and straddling his lap. You made a point to push your hips down on his, letting him feel you against him. The water almost escaped from between the two of you as you wiggled yourself and your hips down on him. He was desperate for more, pulling and clutching at your body to feel more of you. He tugged you onto him and let his hands explore your body, moving up and down your bare sides and gently massaging your wet skin and making your mind race.

He needed more of you and rushed to tug at the little strings on your bikini bottoms. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured letting his kisses trail down your chest to your breasts. He used his body to hold yours up, exposing you to the cool air surrounding you. He attached his lips to your nipple, running his tongue over the hard nub. He swirled his tongue in slow circles, moving his hand up to play with the other one. It felt so good; his tongue moving across your hot burning skin. He flicked his tongue furiously over your nipple, only spurred on by your desperate moans and your hands clawing at his body.

“I love you, I love you,” you said, your words being punctuated by moans as you grinded yourself down on his lap. “Need you inside me, need to feel you stretching me out, please,” you said, your lips against his ear.

He couldn’t even reply, furiously pulling your bikini bottoms off as he pulled his own swimming shorts down too. He held himself in his hand, stroking himself a few times as he lined himself up with you. “Sure you’re wrt enough for me?” he said with a grin on his face, biting his lip. He scanned down your body too, looking at your beautiful skin through the ripples of the water. “Hips up baby,” he mumbled, his lips against your skin as he ran the tip of his dick over your soaking wet core a few times. You bit your lip, bracing yourself for it as he pushed inside you. Your hands were desperately gripping at his shoulders as he did. Immediately there was the feeling of stretch and warmth and a fire ignited inside you.

He helped you ease down on him, you still gasping and moaning about his size like every time before. “Cmon be a good girl and bounce for me,” he groaned, his hands moving to rest under your bum to help you with your movements. Once you were ready and could cope with the stretch, he helped to lift you up and then you sunk down on him again, matching each other’s movements in perfect harmony as you enjoyed him making you feel so incredible. You were squeezing around him, tightening with every movement and your whole body was electric with whatever he did. He grabbed at your waist, pulling himself closer to you as you rocked your hips with his. The speed and positioning matched so perfectly.

You rolled your hips in circles, his hands on your hips as he helped you control the movements the perfect amount as you felt that familiar build up in your stomach. You started tensing around him, him feeling you squeeze his cock and sending him hurtling over the edge too. “That’s it baby, keep pulsing around my cock.” His filthy words were sending you crazy and you could barely contain yourself with all feelings. Love, passion, and complete euphoria. He moved his hand down between your bodies, brushing his fingers against your clit as you rocked your hips slowly as your orgasm approached. You rode out your high, him thrusting up into you at a blinding pace as he chased his own high, it moments away too.

He felt you tense around him and that final squeeze sent him into orgasm too. A few more thrusts in as you orgasmed yourself had him coming hard. As he came, his head fell on your shoulder, his breathing so heavy and desperate. “I love you,” he mumbled, his lips hot against your shoulder as he placed fever kisses on your skin.

“I love you too.”

taglist (pls let me know if you want to be added 🥰)

@starkeyobx @gryffindorpouge11 @jjmaybankmakesmecry @pankhoeforlife @bayy2452 @proactivelytypeofgirl @hoebx @fangirlfree @severa-kane @lovedetlost @slutforsmutsstuff @raiinyhood @samxslaughter @valeriiecameron @burgstead @mayceelou @my-baexht-ls @i-always-come-back-xoxo @0fucsgivenon @heesbestlover @storytellingwitht @ishipit1420 @fiction-is-life @im-julessssss @meadzy2 @onmykneesforrafe @strokesofstokes @wannabestarkeysgirl @babeyglo @infatuatedjanes @ailee-celeste @malums-trash-can @itsalexwin @kkmstblog

#drew starkey #drew starkey x you #drew fic #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey smut #drew #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #obx #obx smut #outer banks #rafe cameron #smut

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jvngkook97 · 3 years ago

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My Universe

pairing; idol!min yoongi x non-idol!reader

genre; angst, fluff

rating; 18+

warnings; minor cursing (nothing explicit), reader has a minor panic attack, overprotective suga baby, we love a caring and attentive boi

w/c; 2,606

Yoongi hated the flashing lights.

You were having a panic attack.

Bingo.

“Yoongs, can we go home now?” You asked meekly, voice sounding weak due to not getting much use of it for awhile. Your eyes must’ve been puffy for sure. They took the most damage.

And then you walked in sync towards the car garage in the now unnaturally calm atmosphere, security once again flanking the both of you now.

Just two lovers wanting nothing more than to collapse into each other in their shared bed, at their shared home, where they can create their own little universe of stars only they could see.

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entropy-game-dev · 2 years ago

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I have several questions...

In my previous post, I went through the design choices and math that went into calculating the number of years the protagonist of the game accumulates when travelling millions of light years between black holes. In this post, I’d like to address some thoughts and challenges that came up when implementing this counter, both from technical and in-universe story perspectives.

The technical challenge

I’ll try not to get too much into the details here, but essentially, computers can only store so many numbers until they start behaving in very strange ways. From really large numbers rolling over back to zero (integer overflow), or simply losing precision and odd mathematical calculations due to rounding errors, one has to be careful when dealing with big numbers in code. As my duration calculations are just estimates, I was not concerned at all with rounding errors, but I absolutely did not want to see the years counter resetting after too much travel in-game.

One of the ways around this, and the method I used, was to split a big number up into two different variables, the base number (ranging from 1 to 9.99) and an exponent of the number 10. If you’re familiar with it, this is essentially scientific notation, and something like 2 million will look like 2 x 10^6. Let’s have a look at the code above to see how I went about implementing this.

The first image shows a very simple script. It takes a number, and uses a logarithm (base 10) function to essentially “count” how many digits are in a number. I then raise 10 to the power this number, and divide the original number by it, to bring it between 1 and 9.99.

The second script deals with the addition of two numbers with different powers. First, convert the numbers if they aren’t already in the above format. Next, get the difference in exponents, and put the second number in the same scale as the first number. Add them together and if that number is outside the 1-9.99 range, update the exponent variable. Took me a little bit to get this working, but I’m quite proud of it, especially coming from a not-so-mathsy background!

And is this 70s accurate?

The game takes place in the 70s, and one of my friends brought up an interesting point - because the way I display these numbers is indeed using scientific notation, would 70s computer architecture store such big numbers in the same way? Looking further into it, probably not - the main method that computers use to store large numbers is using consecutive bytes in memory and just remember which 10s position they’re at! That’s fine though, because you could easily convert it to scientific notation using the method I just described above

Furthermore, one of the first things that your AI (who’s had a VERY long time to develop) does is a revamp of your system and suit’s computer architecture (within reason, given the now-primitive hardware). So, (and this is the handwave-y part), there’ll be numerous processing efficiencies imparted that will allow the software to perform at a level way above what it was originally designed for. It has to be this way because otherwise, the moment you step outside you’ll get your suit hacked and disabled by the universe’s dumbest robot. And that would be a plot hole. Picture highly related.

Speaking of plot holes...

You might be willing to accept that sure, advanced technology maybe could stand up to the millions of years in deep space, but how does the frail human body even hope to last that long?

While the time period is indeed the 70s, it’s more of an alternate-universe styled thing where materials science and hardware rapidly advanced while the software side got left in the dust. So at the beginning of the game, the technology to safely cryo-freeze and wake humans exists, and this is what happens to your character en-route to the first black hole. Spending so long in orbit so close to a black hole then lets relativity kick in, slowing down time to almost a standstill while the rest of the universe keeps on ticking. As a side note, the simulated travel speed of 1% of the speed of light is no where near there’s essentially no effects of relativity occurring while travelling, only during close orbits of black holes.

But the journey from earth to the first black hole is only a fraction of the multi-million light year distances that you’ll be doing through the course of the game. And to survive that? Well, I’ll be up-front with you, I haven’t decided how I want things to play out. It could just be more cryo-freezing but with advanced technology. Or a whole other host of existential-crisis-inducing possibilities. Like I said, I’m undecided I want to do. The fate of the character might also depend on which ending you get...

Despair?!

On the topic of existential crises, another of my friends said that, for a sci-fi game, he’d expect to see massive numbers spiraling out of control. At first I thought he was referring to the battle system and suggesting some insane Disgaea-esque inflation on stats and damage values. However, he clarified he meant more in terms of the theming and fluff that the player will experience.

And I absolutely agree with that sentiment! I think giving the players such incomprehensibly large numbers really emphasises how tiny and insignificant humanity is in relation to literally everything else - both in-game and in real life. Things like distances, times, masses, speeds, counts... I really hope to make these large numbers somewhat prominent, so that players don’t forget about the vastness of space on their travels.

Anyways, that’s it from me for now! Thanks for reading!

#game #videogame #devblog #gamedev #scifi #spacegame #dungeon crawler #rpg #entropy #gamemaker #programming #pixel art #robot #indiedev

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holts-knees · 2 years ago

Photo

So, last week @swiss-army-fangirl came to stay with me in LA for a while, and if you know anything about me you know i’m the kind of person that needs to document things that move me. These two paintings are of our first and third nights, two both seemingly impossible events along the California shoreline (the most magical place in this country if you ask me honestly) Sappy lil stories and context below the cut < 3

Our first night we made a mad dash down to Santa Monica which was SOMEHOW almost completely empty, and we laid out on a blanket and watched as the clouds that had been hanging over the sky all day cleared JUST in time for sunset, I got to watch Tori like, atomize, as i pointed out all the colors and how the marine layer slowly consumes the mountains and the pier comes to life with all it’s lights. After a while of talking it was dark and Tori pointed up and said “is that a star?” and I laughed at her, because of Course its not this is LOS ANGELES, but then...the more we looked, it WAS and there were...MORE, It was like she brought them down with her.... I remember being sat there thinking “this is a sign....this trip is going to be So Much.....” which was interrupted by Tori going “oh my god....the big dipper looks so different from here-” and me just needing to.....Lay Down LOL. We talked for a bit longer, sitting there on the beach WELL past sunset and then we both fell dead silent and looked at each other before going “did you see that-” and we both HAD and it was....a shooting star--- HERE- ON A RANDOM NIGHT IN LA

and i haven’t stopped thinking about it since---- The second landscape is a direct rendition of a picture I took while we were in La Jolla. La Jolla is one of the few places on this earth that makes me feel completely at peace and happy, I always find myself making my where there when my soul needs it. and funnily enough, I found as i was getting to know Tori that she was familiar with it. In an abstract but still equally meaningful way, because she had heard it described in the Wilbur Soot song of the same name, which means quite a lot to her. From the moment I learned this fact the jokes started about taking her there some day. Jokes that we both knew were just that, because what would be the odds of two online friends from AK and CA, actually meeting up? Last Christmas when I was down there I sat on the rocks and listened to the song as a way to “bring her there” in spirit. And I remember getting weepy at the idea of how wonderful it would be to share this place with her, my heart ached for it, but i accepted it was never gonna happen. But then....this LA trip fell into our laps and I cannot DESCRIBE the speed at which I started to throw this day trip into motion, I KNEW I had to, I knew it was FATE. I arranged train tickets, I found a place to drink cocktails over the water, I mapped out all the things I wanted to do to make sure we’d have time for them all..... Truly went ALL IN- but it was SO worth it...because with all that planning....the day went PERFECT.... and we ended it right down at the water, sitting side by side on the beach steps, listening to that Damn Song, and coming full circle..... I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the surf right as Wilbur sang Tori’s favorite line and then when we got home I painted it, so that I could give it to her as a Physical Thing (well....digital-) that she can look back on and remember the experience by. I made sure to be meticulous about every single detail so it would be....truly EXACTLY as it happened and as we remembered it. And i’d be lying if I didnt admit i’ve gone back a few times even myself to look at it and just, Think [tm]. Think about how fortunate I have been to be able to open up my heart and show some of my most treasured places to one of my newest most treasured friends. And in turn with that, weave our friendship into little pockets and corners of those places, which only makes me love them more.... ALSO we saw a whale going down the coast and I am, fully convinced, just like the stars that Tori brought it down with her and I cannot be told otherwise. < 3

#landscape #procreate #digital art #digital painting #la jolla #los angeles #sunset #wilbur soot #RELUCTANTLY LOL #friendship

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years ago

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i’m almost scared to ask this due to the angst potential but 22 with jm, please?

You blessed me with a Good Martin earlier, I’ll spare you from the angst storm (I have nooo ulterior motives here, me, who doesn’t like writing angst? None whatsoever)

Set in some nebulous no-powers au where they get to go home from a Normal Date. Thank you @horngryeyes for letting me just message him asking for Polish swears

22) Things you said after it was over

“I had a really nice time tonight.”

Martin smiled as Jon leaned closer into his side, joined hands between them stilling from their gentle swing, purely because they no longer had space to with Jon cosied up against him. “I’m glad, I had a wonderful time as well.”

The restaurant they had been to had been close to Martin’s apartment, and so they were currently on their way to the nearest tube station for Martin to see him off safely. They proceeded to walk in a comfortable silence for several minutes, the comforting presence of the other at their side driving off the chill of the early Spring evening.

It was only when they reached the entrance to the tube station and Martin’s eyes drifted to the screen displaying a digital clock did they realise something was wrong.

“Wait, what?” Jon vocalised his concern before Martin, a furrow forming on his brow. “That can’t be right.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glared at the lock screen. The harsh white light illuminated exactly the same numbers as those staring back down at them in green LED from the wall of the station. 1:06AM. Aka, past the time any of the trains were running in Jon’s direction home.

“How? I checked as we were paying, we were getting ready to leave the restaurant at 11:40, it can’t have taken us over an hour to walk here, it was barely a mile!”

“... Jon what day is it?”

“What?”

“Just, check for me?”

Jon hit the button again and his phone screen lit up. “Just turned over to the 28th. Is that anything?”

“Spring forward, fall back, kurde,” Martin muttered under his breath. “Of course. Just our luck. Clocks just went forward for British Summertime. So we essentially just lost an hour, and it’s now one as opposed to just gone twelve. So... No trains.”

“... No trains”

There was a silence for a moment, breath starting to cloud in front of them as they breathed in the cool night air, rapidly getting colder. The silence was broken by the sound of Jon typing, fingers quickly skimming over his phone as he began trying to search for alternatives. “Buses maybe? I think they’re still running but I’m not sure if there’s any going my route....”

Another few seconds passed of Jon hurriedly typing and Martin chewing his lip. Eventually, he managed to muster up the courage to speak, “I mean.. You could always come back to mine?”

And immediately, his mind was racing with all the different reasons for why he shouldn’t have said that. This was only their third official date, was that too soon to invite Jon back to his house? They weren’t even technically dating yet, there was still a certain degree of casual about their relationship, they weren’t actually boyfriends. God, what if Jon misunderstood what he was saying? They’d had that conversation even before they’d started seeing each other, one friend trusting another with an intimate detail of their life. Martin didn’t want Jon to think he’d forgotten, or worse, was disregarding it. And even past those two points, Jon was technically still his boss - Logically he knew if they were breaking any kind of office conduct they would have done so three dinners ago, but this felt different, to invite someone to your home felt far more vulnerable, and serious.

“Uh- That’s okay, Martin I wouldn’t want to impose...”

Martin isn’t quite sure where he got the courage to continue. Normally he’d take Jon’s response to heart, overthink it, and end up interpreting it as ‘I don’t want to do that and am trying to let you down easy’. Maybe it was the two glasses of wine he’d had at dinner, or some spirit of the moment daring, but whatever it is possessed him long enough for him to say “You wouldn’t be imposing. Actually, I would rather like you to be there?”

Jon looked slightly stunned for a moment, before Martin began to see a faint flush darken his cheeks. “Oh, uhm...” A spike of anxiety shot through Martin as Jon dipped his head to cough into his fist, but when he drew it away again he looked somewhat... Bashful? “Well, if... Yes, okay then. I would like to be there as well.”

“Good.”

There was another few beats of silence before both, tipsy on averagely-priced wine and drunk on nervous energy, lapsed into childish giggles. “Lead the way, Mr Blackwood,” Jon crooned, leaning into his arm again, and Martin knew he was joking, playful atmosphere being allowed to overtake the anxious one between them, but he rather liked the sound of that.

It was another ten minutes of walking further to get back to Martin’s flat, and Jon only managed to stumble over his own two feet once, which may have been partially due to his own three glasses of red setting in, or just the fact that it was rather awkward to walk when trying to merge with the coat of the man beside you.

“It’s uhm, sorry if it’s a little messy, I wasn’t expecting company, obviously,” Martin apologised as he fumbled with the key in the lock.

“’M sure it’s fine.” Jon’s speech was getting a little messier now, but really only to the degree that was notable by Standard Jon English. He wasn’t quite at the swaying on his feet stage yet, but he was blinking sleepily, a small, content smile playing gently at his lips.

As he stepped in the door, Martin shrugged his coat off and hung it by the door, gesturing an invitation for Jon to do the same, which he accepted. Martin took his hand again to lead him inside, but let go again soon enough to step into the small alcove of the kitchen to fetch two glasses and fill them at the sink. “I think we could both use these,” he said softly, handing one to Jon, who took it gratefully. They sipped their water in silence for a moment, enjoying the relative peace and warmth that being inside afforded them. They didn’t sit, both just leaned against the wall while Jon took in the contents of a bookshelf and Martin watched him do so, both with equal levels of intrigue.

Eventually, the silence was broken by the muffled sound of a yawn from Jon, who tried to cover it with one hand. “Right, maybe time for bed then?” Martin suggested, taking the glass from him and putting them both beside the sink to deal with tomorrow.

When he returned Jon was hovering around the couch, like he wanted to take a seat but was unsure how to go about doing so. “You okay?”

“Oh, uhm, yes, I just... You wouldn’t happen to have a spare blanket, would you?”

“What?”

“Sorry to be a bother I just- Never mind, it’s fine. Good night, Martin.”

“...What?”

“I- I’m sorry did I do something wrong?”

“No, just... C’mon, bedrooms this way.”

“Oh!” And there was that flush again, more visible under the lights of the flat than it had been under streetlamps.

“... Jon, did you think I was going to make you sleep on the sofa?” Martin felt his voice trail slightly upwards at the end, struck both by humour and concern.

“I didn’t want to presume!” Jon said, shaking his hands out. “Um... Okay then, lead the way.”

Martin smiled, before doing the mental math and squinting. “Two seconds?” He said, before quickly making his way into the bedroom and doing his best to make the room look as presentable as possible within a short amount of time. A minute or two later he opened the door again, and Jon made his way inside.

His room wasn’t anything special, just a standard bedroom in a low quality apartment, but the duvet and quilt had been straightened and clothes haphazardly strewn about the room had been banished into the laundry basket, and the lamp on his bedside table was casting a soft yellow glow about the room, making the room feel warm and cosy.

Jon just kind of stood there for a moment, like he was trying to figure out what to do next, before Martin realised what was wrong with the picture. “Oh, uhm, clothes, do you want to borrow a shirt or something?”

The words were out of Martin’s mouth before he could really think through the implications of them, practicality and comfort overriding the realisation that Jon borrowing his shirt would mean Jon, in his bed, wearing his clothes.

“That would be good, thank you.”

Martin attempted to keep his composure by going over to his drawers and rooting around for two shirts, one for himself and one for Jon. “I’d offer you bottoms too but I’m not really sure they’d fit, is that okay?” Martin said, turning to hand Jon a shirt. He wasn’t sure what Jon was comfortable with, where boundaries lay yet, he didn’t want to force Jon into something that overstepped.

“I think that should be fine,” Jon said, and Martin breathed a sigh of relief.

“Right, uh, do you want to take the bathroom and I’ll...?”

“Okay, sure, sure.”

Jon made his way through the other door in the room and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Martin was just finished changing into his own pyjamas when a knock came from the other side of the door, startling him slightly. “Oh, finished!”

The door opened, and Jon walked into the room. Now, Martin had known, theoretically, for the last three minutes that Jon had been gone that when he saw him again he would be standing in his bedroom wearing his shirt. But it was quite another thing to actually see it, soft golden lamplight reflecting against eyes that at this point were losing the fight to stay open, too-large shirt with a faded movie poster on it hanging loosely around his shoulders, panning down to boxers and bare feet on the wooden floor. Martin felt his breath catch in his throat slightly.

“Are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, fine. Do you, uhm, need anything?”

“No, no, I’m fine thank you, I think I’m just about ready to pass out if it’s all the same to you.”

“I can agree with that.”

Jon kept his eyes on the bed, watching until Martin had walked over to his chosen side and pulled the covers back before padding round to the opposite and climbing in beside him.

There were a few awkward moments where they both got comfortable. Martin hadn’t shared a bed with someone in quite a while, and it was an odd sensation to try and get used to again. “Pillows, do you- Is that enough?”

“Two is more than fine, thank you Martin,” Jon said, cleaning back against them.

“Right, well... Good night, Jon.”

“Good night, Martin.” Jon said, voice barely above a whisper now as his eyes drifted closed. Martin took that as a cue to turn the light off.

Martin had never been aware of how loud the analog clock hanging on his wall was until that moment, dull ticks making themselves thunderous in the silence between them. He must have counted to sixty several times over before Martin heard a rustling beside him, and felt the duvet twitch.

“Martin?” If Jon’s goodnight had been a whisper, this was barely audible, but as it was Martin was so aware of every footstep of his neighbours, creaking of pipes, or car going past outside, it sounded like it was said directly into his ear. Which, really, wasn’t that far off, considering how close Jon was, lying on the pillow next to him.

“Mmmh?”

“I.. Thank you, for today. For this.”

“You don’t have to thank me for a date, Jon, that’s... I mean, not that I’m not tempted to thank you in return but that’s not how that works.”

He rolled on to his side to face Jon, and was greeted by a face only a few inches away him his. “Oh. Hi.”

Jon smiled. “Hi.”

“Can I... Do you mind if...” Words failing him, Martin leaned forward. When Jon didn’t seem to retreat, he leaned further, until he was pressing a kiss to his brow. “Is... Is that okay?”

There was a low rumbling from Jon’s throat, vibrating across the pillow. “More than okay. Encouraged, even,” Jon said, and suddenly he was pressing a kiss to Martin’s cheek in return. He searched under the duvet for a moment, before twining his fingers together with Martin’s, and proceeded to roll over to face away from him, dragging Martin’s arm with him until it was draped across him, gently cradling their bodies together. “Good night, Martin.”

Yeah. Yeah, it was a pretty good night.

#My Post #My Writing #I hate to say it but it's 2:15 if there's spelling errors that's tomorrow oran's problem #The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood #dudeiwannasleep

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chrisevansluv · 3 years ago

Note

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

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

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

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

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

Chris: Looooong time.

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

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

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

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

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

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

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

Chris: Looooong time.

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

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

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

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

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

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