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lollytea · 1 year ago

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((Part One of my Showbiz AU exposition posts!! Sorry my demons took over. I have more to say but this was already getting too long so I have to chop it up. The actual meat of the AU coming tomorrow.))

Willow Park was discovered in a supermarket when she was two years old while happily swinging her chubby legs back and forth in a shopping cart baby seat, teething on a rainbow coloured set of plastic keys. Her parents were offered the opportunity to get her into commercial modeling for a fat check.

Maybe if the circumstances had been different, Gilbert and Harvey would have rejected the offer on the spot. However, things were not going financially well in the Park household. Harvey had recently been let go from his job and Gilbert was already disowned by his parents, so they didn't have their support to fall back on. And they were scared. They were scared of what would become of Willow if they couldn't afford to take care of her.

The rules they applied to this whole venture were simple. The second it appeared that this lifestyle was taking a negative effect on Willow, they pull her out of it immediately and try something else.

So Willow became a baby model. And the overlap between model and actor was thin enough that she quickly stumbled into the latter. Mainly commercials and movie/TV roles with anywhere from one to a handful of lines. But it paid well and even though she was little, she seemed to enjoy it. She had a captivating stage presence. She was silly and clumsy but directors and audiences found that charming.

When Willow was four, she began repeatedly bumping into another little girl at auditions and they drew little crayon doodles together on the edges of their scripts while they waited their turn. Soon enough, Willow Park and Amity Blight were best friends and lit up every time they saw each other in those high ceiling audition rooms with the weird squeaky floors.

But when Willow was six, going on seven, she did an awful lot of growing. And that changed everything.

Amity had always booked more roles than Willow, but that had never bothered her because she had never known any different. And besides, Willow had always gotten SOMETHING at least.

Willow enjoyed acting and her Dads made sure to never make her aware that they relied on her income for fear of putting that huge responsibility on her shoulders. To her, it wasn't a job, just a fun thing she did.

But once she reached a certain age, it became difficult to book any roles at all. Nothing. Nobody wanted her.

Amity, by comparison, seemed to be getting every role personally handed to her. And this was the point where she abruptly severed ties with her best friend, utterly shattering Willow into a million pieces.

Nobody wanted her. Not even her best friend wanted her. Willow didn't know what had changed so suddenly but it burned under her skin. There was something inherently wrong with her. Nobody wanted her.

Harvey and Gilbert quickly noticed the damage that acting had done to their daughter's self esteem so they quickly drew further away from the spotlight before things got any worse.

Willow did not retire from acting completely. There was still maybe one or two background roles a year. Usually no lines. Just to keep them financially afloat. By this point, both Harvey and Gilbert had found ways to bring home money. It wasn't a lot and they were still scraping by but ultimately, Willow's childhood, education and future were to be prioritized so sacrifices had to be made.

They hoped to retain some sense of normalcy to Willow's life. So, after a year and a half of Harvey's home schooling, Willow was enrolled in public school, where she remained from the ages of 7 to 13.

This was supposed to make things better. And in a way, it did. Or at least it gave Willow the necessary experience to navigate the real world and help her develop into a relatively gentle, wise and down to earth soul. But it was also absolute Hell.

Harvey had always presumed that his daughter was a late bloomer and never thought much of it when she was still reading at a kindergarten level at age 7, but it presented itself as a complete abomination of a problem once she was thrown into the public school system.

Willow was dyslexic. This severely hindered her academic performance, as well as severely hindering her classmates' ability to leave her the fuck alone.

Willow doesn't like to talk about the period of her life where she attended public school. Except maybe in therapy. Or to Hunter at 3:34AM after he's told her something debatably more fucked up about his own childhood. But this was the only point in her life where she felt completely and utterly alone in this world.

She had her Dads, she'd always have her Dads. But she kept the brunt of her misery to herself because she knew that they would make her problems their problems and they were struggling enough as it was.

It was for her. Everything they did was for her. She eavesdropped on the heated debates they had late at night (They should've been asleep too. They had work in the morning) over what the next move was.

They were both painfully aware that Willow's full time acting career brought in the most money but if she didn't want to be in show business anymore, they needed to do whatever it took to make sure she could stay in school and her future was bright. College, university, whatever she wanted. (Harvey had tirelessly studied the best career opportunities and not-so-sutbly attempted to get her on board.)

Truth be told, Willow didn't know what she wanted. All she knew for sure was that she couldn't stay in public school a moment longer. She didn't know how to feel about acting these days. It was a mixed bag. But it was definitely preferable to the torture chamber of a middle school girls bathroom.

When Willow was thirteen, she reactivated her acting career, and she did it with a smile on her face. She hoped that her parents could maybe sleep soundly for the first time in six years.

She got lucky. Miraculously lucky. She wasn't sure if she believed in God after the last six years but SOMEBODY out there was looking out for her. Because near immediately, they found a casting call that read: "Age 12-14. Female. Plus size. Non-White." A casting call that Willow had never seen in all her years in show business, (at least not the ones her Dads approved of) let alone for a gig in one of the most popular tweenage networks on television. And this was no background position either, but a lead role.

If Willow could book this, her family would be set.

So, she read for the role. Well, she memorized the script after staying up till 2am with Gilbert. And she put her acting experience to use by pretending to read a script.

And that was how Willow booked the role of Paulina on television's upcoming tween phenomenon 'Hexside', a series about wacky shenanigans in a witches high school.

She was quick to learn that while she would have a significant presence on the show, she was not the leading lady, but rather, the ditzy quirky best friend.

The actual protagonist and Willow's co-star who she'll be spending the next several months with? (and possibly years if season 1 is a success)

Amity Blight.

#La La Land Machine AU

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sanityshorror · 3 months ago

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the julius redraw of my beloved patrick led to julius becoming my other beloved. they're both so.....😍*chef's kiss* 💋could you please write a scenario about these two pretty boy psychos meeting each other for the first time? thank you❤️

Awe thank you so much, I'm glad you love Julius! I put so much work into him and I'm working on soooo many projects about him 👀 As for the scenario, I apologize but I really don't have time and I don't write fanfiction involving my own characters (I created Julius, to be clear; he's my character 😭) BUT I can tell you my silly HCs of if somehow their different universes collided and they met!

Given Patrick's personality and knowing Julius' like the back of my hand, unfortunately I do not see any sort of friendship ever forming between the two. Neither of the men are prone to form a genuine bond with anyone. Now, I can confirm that there are a few exceptions for Julius but it's very, very, very few. As for Patrick, it's up to one's interpretation of if he can/does form a true bond, I personally interpret him to be similar to Julius: no, with extremely rare exceptions.

While I do not see a genuine bond being able to form between the two, I absolutely do see them both as having a mutually beneficial fake-friendship. They're both east coast, coked up, sex addicted, rich white men who lead double/multiple lives and are deceptive as all hell. They both are also very obsessive over image, appearance and social status/perception. Now what I absolutely do believe would happen is Patrick forming an obsessive infatuation but intense jealousy towards Julius due to multiple reasons.

I'll explain:

Julius was born in a working class family during the Victorian era who immigrated to America and became a mainly self made multi-billionaire (being married to the Boss of the Boston Irish Mob brings in a lot of money on top of his own very successful business). Patrick on the other hand, despite being born into wealth still doesn't hold a candle to Julius' riches. Patrick may own a Manhattan penthouse but Julius could buy the entire building if he wanted to, and without batting an eye at the price tag given the multi-millions that roll in weekly for him.

That brings me to another reason: sheer status and power. Julius is so elite that brand names mean nothing to him and he sees brand names as something for the poor. Julius owns a very popular, top of the line, extremely expensive dress shop and boutique. Everything is hand made by him (he doesn't even use sewing machines), one of a kind and the man is talented. His shop is so revered you need an appointment just to get in and people will save up for years and fly across the country, even across the ocean to get a dress. (Of course, only the lucky actually leave the shop....) Basically, Julius' wealth and god like status (he can literally have anything he wants, whenever he wants and gets endless attention) is something Patrick would, though be very jealous of, lead Patrick to suck up to Julius. Our boy Patrick would set his homophobia aside in a second if it meant being seen going into Doherty's Dress Shop without needing an appointment.

Julius would look down on Patrick. He would find him annoying and pathetic. However Julius loves attention and loves people sucking up to him (and loves cocaine-murder buddies) so he probably wouldn't kill Patrick as long as Patrick played his cards right and didn't challenge him. I see Julius using Patrick as a verbal punching bag and forcing him to smuggle drugs and traffic humans and other shit, and probably also just make him do degrading things like "I'll let you enter my store wherever you want if you suck my boot until you jizz in your pants hahahaha nasty bitch" just for shits and giggles. And Patrick probably would because oh that sweet sweet sweet status.

Julius also would make fun of Patrick for being 'short and fat'. Patrick is said to be 6'0 and 190lbs whereas Julius, who is anorexic, stands at 6'5 (in the human leather boots he always wears, he's 6'2 without them) and horrific mere 135lbs (please seek help if you struggle with eating, you deserve it/gen). I think they would both feed into each other's body issues and obsession with perfection.

It would be interesting to see them meet, I must admit that lol.

#patrick bateman #american psycho book #american psycho movie #american psycho #julius doherty #julius the dressmaker #hellcrew #the dressmaker from hell #creepypasta

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heykoonsy · 9 months ago

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Word Count: 3.8k+

Pairing: Husk x Angel Dust (HuskerDust/AngelHusk), slight Angel Dust x OC

Summary: "Give him everything but your ass.” Angel Dust was tasked with one job: convince the investor to subsidize Valentino’s agency. Angel was more of a closer to Valentino, enticing the wealthier of his associates into funding projects for him. However, this latest pitch didn’t go as planned and Angel’s hubris prevented him from seeing the potential drawbacks of a one night stand with someone Valentino marked. In this slow burn love story, Angel must confront the worst parts of himself if he is going to win back his career.

Content Warnings: Rated 18+ for foul language

Author's Note: Figured I would post this since it's all finished.

Angel Dust grabbed for the lighter next to his abandoned pack of cigarettes. Next, he picked up the vanilla scented candle he’d recently picked out. With a strike of the lighter, he lit the wick. The glow of the candle illuminated his calm smile. After putting down the candle, he sat on his bed, taking in the room.

He’d been keeping to himself these last few days–taking what little time he had between shoots to clean. It took him a few days to sort through all of his laundry and toss out the shredded and stained garments. Afterwards, he had to reorganize his closet. What was once an unkempt mess was now the picture of cleanliness. Every shirt had a hanger, every skirt had a drawer. Every pair of shoes had its place at the bottom of his closet.

He’d even made time to go through his makeup and toss out the expired products. Not to mention he’d been able to deep clean the carpeted floors. Even the mattress he sat on was cleaned–adorned with fresh sheets. He’d also washed Fat Nuggets’ pig bed so that he would have a comfortable place to lay now that he didn’t have a plethora of laundry piles to pick from.

Speaking of Fat Nuggets, he was currently getting water from his new fountain. Angel clasped his hands together watching him move over to his little section of their room. He lay back on the bed, his back hitting the soft sheets. He looked up at the ceiling, content with all that he’d accomplished. In truth, he owed this victory to Husk for kicking him in the pants.

He was living like a slob these last few months. Well really his whole life–topside included. Angel was never the neatest person, but he didn’t have to be. Other people enabled him for as long as he could remember. And in Hell it was no different. But, perhaps that was the problem. With sycophants ready and willing to accept him as he was, and not implore him to do better, this was all was expected of him. Angel had to do better, he realized. So he would. There was never much fun in chores–but chores meant that he was at least catering to his basic needs.

That didn’t mean that he still couldn’t have fun. Never. He still wanted to drink and dance and do things like shop and eat out. But he’d at least start putting in an effort to do his fucking laundry. That way Fat Nuggets didn’t have to worry about his bed being obscured by a mountain of Angel’s discarded outfits.

Angel inhaled the vanilla scent around him, savoring it. He looked forward to doing absolutely nothing today–intent on focusing on self-care today.

But then his phone started to buzz from across the room.

Angel groaned, and looked at the screen. Jax was calling.

“Yeah?”

“Mr. Valentino has requested that you attend a meeting with a business partner of his in his stead.”

Angel Dust perked up. Had he heard him right? Val was asking him to oversee a pitch meeting? Angel stood quickly and blew out his candle.

“When’s the meetin’?”

“Two hours, a car will be sent for you.”

Angel heard a click and immediately began searching through his closet. Once he tossed his phone on the bed behind him, he started moving apart the hangers with all four of his hands. He needed something more…elegant. A pencil skirt at the most, with no shoulder pads. Angel tapped his fingers absentmindedly on his upper arms, peering into the many drawers his closet now had.

Then, it hit him. If he remembered correctly, there was one top he could wear with some high-waisted black trousers. Angel found the blouse quickly enough. It was a sleeveless white tank with a high neckline. He also pulled out a hot pink blazer he’d taken off set from when he played an overbearing girlboss. As for the high-waisted trousers, they were skin tight and long with white buttons. He would be able to wear a pair of classy black pumps with them without issue.

Angel threw all of his chosen clothing onto the bed behind him. First, he’d shower. Then he’d style his hair for the occasion–not much. He didn’t want to appear overdressed or too done up. This was a simple pitch meeting, nothing too exciting. But still, he wanted to conduct himself well so that if Val wanted to give him other responsibilities, he could do so without worry.

Without any more delay, Angel Dust hopped into the shower and removed the layer of dust and dirt he’d accumulated after cleaning every nook and cranny of his room. He knew that he’d be spending the most of his time drying off, so he was quick beneath the water. Once he was out, he clad himself in a towel and sat at his vanity.

First things first, he blew out his hair with the hair dryer, giving the fluff at the top of his head a distinct and flirty curl. Next he began applying his makeup, dragging a wand of mascara through his lashes, and choosing a classy nude shade of lipstick. He puckered his lips, smiling at his reflection.

Angel was meticulous when he dried the rest of his body. After a few minutes, he began assembling his outfit. Once he was all dressed and ready, he was excited about how perfectly everything came together. The best thing about it was that it didn’t even look like a costume. It looked like this was how he could always look if he truly wanted to.

Angel glanced at himself in the mirror one last time before choosing a small black purse to carry all of his things with him. He looked at his phone for the time. It seemed he had about a half an hour to kill before the car would arrive. It was a good thing that he knew just how to spend that time.

The walk from his bedroom to the bar was second nature at this point. He barely needed to watch where he was walking as he knew every twist and turn. He looked around the corner, seeing Husk’s hunched shoulders behind the bar. Angel didn’t need to announce his presence, as Husk seemed to pick up on his arrival by the sound of his footsteps.

“Well well well, what are you all dolled up for?”

Angel slid onto his stool, “I’ve been asked to oversee a pitch meetin' with a partner of Val’s.”

Husk nodded along, “You look excited.”

“I am,” Angel said. “I’ve neva done it solo before.”

“It sounds like fun,” Husk said, but he was mostly being polite. Angel knew that he had no idea what Angel was talking about. Still, it was sweet of him to try.

“What are you doin’ later?”

Husk took a moment to gesture around him instead of responding.

Angel smirked at his sass. “What do you do all day when I’m off at work, anyway?”

Husk shrugged his shoulders. “Man the bar, practice card tricks,” he looked at Angel from the corner of his eye, “look in on your pig.”

Angel Dust gasped, his elbows hitting the table. “You take care of Fat Nuggets when I’m away?”

Husk closed his eyes, like he regretted telling Angel. “I just make sure his water dish is full,” he said. “I also make sure he’s eating.” When Husk looked at Angel, he groaned.

“Holy shit,” Angel said under his breath. “You’re a big softy, ain’t ya, Husky?” He asked, raising a hand to poke at Husk’s cheek.

“He has to get exercise–

“You even take him on walks!?”

Husk stopped talking, turning around so that he could mess with some bottles on the bar.

“No wonder he hasn’t wanted to go anywhere!” Angel exclaimed. “I can’t believe this.”

Husk looked back at Angel, a faint blush on his cheeks. “We can walk him together next time,” he offered.

Angel blinked a few times before a smile stretched across his face. “I’d like that, this meetin' shouldn’t take any more than three hours. Will you be free then?”

Husk took a moment to respond. “Yeah,” he said, too shy to turn around.

“It’s a date,” Angel said, standing up from his stool. “We’ll walk our son when I get off work.”

Husk’s cheeks lit up, his hands fumbling the bottle he was holding and nearly dropping it. He looked over to Angel, who had already gathered his things and moved towards the hotel doors.

The car that picked up Angel was fancier than anything he’d rode in before. It seemed that Valentino got himself an upgrade with all the money his last picture made. Angel patted himself on the back as he sat in the back, crossing his legs with the ample leg room showing his ass on camera bought. Jax was in the passenger seat messing with something in a briefcase. He pulled out a manilla folder and handed it back to Angel.

“Read over this script quickly, I’ve annotated the sections that are important.”

Angel grabbed the flimsy folder and pulled out the rather flimsy script. He looked over the highlighted sections that Jax made notes beside. His handwriting was fancier than Angel expected, though he wrote in all capital letters.

STEAMY SHOWER SCENE

BEDROOM MASTURBATION SCENE

Angel continued through the packet. “Huh, I feel like I’ve seen all of this before.”

“You have,” Jax said simply. “Which is why Mr. Valentino wants you to reject this pitch.”

Angel nodded along. “He basically wants me to do a master cut of all my best scenes from other productions. Goodbye residuals.” He palmed through the rest of the documents. He noted a small red envelope. “What’s this?”

“Mr. Valentino would like you to sever our relationship with this partner of his.”

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, but tucked everything back into his manilla folder. He sat back in his seat. His excitement for the pitch meeting was dampened slightly. Not because he had to reject the pitch–but because he now had better plans afterwards. He smiled to himself, thinking about just what Husk looked like taking Fat Nuggets on a walk. Did he look grumpy? Or did he prefer his pig’s company to his own? Did he dote on him? The whole idea created a flutter in his chest–a warmth that emanated through the rest of his body. He wanted to be home already.

But before he could go home, he had to destroy the dreams of Val’s partner and the pathetic writer that brought Val this lackluster script. Angel looked out the window and realized they were approaching their target. The offices were quite modest, nothing like Guerrero’s or Vercelli’s. But, they had been working with Valentino for years. His relationship with Valentino must have just began–or it had been on the decline for a while.

“We’ve arrived,” Jax said as the car stopped. He got out.

Angel Dust followed him out, hooking his purse onto his shoulder. He let Jax lead him from the sidewalk and up the stairs to the office building. He took one last glance at the car behind him. This wouldn’t take long.

“We’ve come to meet with Mr. Jullien for the pitch,” Jax said with little emotion to the secretary in the lobby.

“Yes, he is in another meeting currently, I’ll take you to the conference room to wait,” he said, standing up from his desk and leading the way.

Jax allowed Angel Dust to follow in front of him so he got a good look at the offices they passed. He looked around, seeing white walls and beautifully decorated office space. There were paintings and fancy wall sconces. If this director was making decent money, then why would Val sever–

Angel Dust’s eyes went wide as he passed another conference room. He stopped abruptly and Jax nearly slammed into him.

“Angel?”

Angel looked at Jax and continued walking. “Sorry about that, my heel almost fell off,” he lied. He’d only been able to see his back, but Angel knew that silhouette anywhere. It was Spitzers.

“Please wait here, Mr. Jullien will be in shortly.”

With that, the secretary excused himself and made his way out of the conference room. Angel took a seat at the far end of the table, and Jax sat beside him on his right. He took in the room. More white walls, more fancy carpet. There was a conference phone in the center of the table. A large TV hung on the wall on the other side of the room–likely for presentations. He gave a glance towards Jax.

He wondered if Jax knew anything about why Jullien was being fired. It was unlikely, but Jax was capable enough to draw his own conclusions. Afterall, he was able to witness what happened to Brut in real time. He had to have his own opinions regarding that utter failure.

But still, Angel kept quiet. So what if he knew about everything? It’s not as if either of them were in a position to act against orders. Angel shrugged and crossed his legs in his chair. He looked at his manila folder and opened it up. He gave the documents another read through and began to prepare himself.

He noted three good things about the script, and three things Jullien could work on with his director. He loved his formatting, stage direction and visualizations. While the material wasn’t unique, there were a lot of elements that made it his own. But, it was a rip-off of Valentino’s work plain and simple. It was likely to lose them money in the long-run.

The door opened suddenly and Angel’s attention was drawn to a shorter demon in a suit. He walked into the room, and towards the both of them. Angel and Jax stood as Jullien outstretched his hand to Angel first, then Jax.

“It’s great to see you today,” he said happily. “I’m hoping the script was to your liking.”

Angel nodded, “A great read,” he looked over at Jax for support–seeing as how he was the one to actually read it.

Jax nodded along as well.

“It was a relief to get a call back regarding this script. I know Valentino wants perfection from his directors, and I sought to give him just that.”

Angel smiled stiffly. Rip-offs maybe, he thought to himself as he sat back down. “Mr. Valentino recognizes that you’ve done an excellent job.”

“Marvelous news, will we be discussing scheduling today? I can call the director immediately to discuss–

“Unfortunately, Mr. Valentino has decided that he will no longer be workin' wit' your company.” Angel said as he pulled out the red envelope from the manilla folder.

Jullien gasped, shock registering on his face for a moment before overwhelming anger took its place. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Jax left Angel Dust inside at the front desk while he arranged to have the car come back. The meeting didn’t last nearly as long as he thought. Angel wasn’t intending on pulling out the card until the end of their meeting, but to be honest, Jullien was acting really pompous. It was like he didn’t even realize that he was ripping off other directors’ hard work. There was even a shibari scene that he knew was directly pulled from Guerrero’s latest picture–and it was just released. How dense could you be? Angel thought as he crossed his arms.

“Looks like you made it out of there unscathed,” Angel heard a familiar voice say from beside him.

He looked over at Spitzers, a smile going to his face. “He doesn’t take rejection well,” Angel commented. “You might wanna make yourself scarce. He probably knows you’re the reason Val cut him loose.”

Spitzers chuckled. “My first deal back in this ring and Val already caught wind of it.”

“He’s a real basta’d,” Angel said.

Spitzers dipped his head low, his voice lower. “You never answered me before.”

Angel knew immediately what he was referring to. All those months ago when Spitzers had his meeting with Guerrerro–when he asked him if their fling was worth it. Angel considered his question. His answer would have been a resounding “yes” in the moment. Val using it against Brut and Agony turned their moment to ashes in his mouth, however. Now that there were months between him and the guilt he felt following their termination…

“We had fun, for sure,” Angel Dust said, closing his eyes. “But don’t you think we should be focusing on other things?”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

Angel looked over at him. “You clearly have a knack for this business,” Angel said. “If you’re itching to invest–invest in yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

Angel Dust looked around the lobby–noting that even the secretary was gone, likely out to lunch. He rummaged through his purse quickly and pulled out a pen. He took Spitzers’ arm and began writing something on it. He held his hand for a moment, and stared into his eyes.

“If you can’t work with Valentino, why not become Valentino?”

Spitzers looked down at his arm, at two phone numbers etched onto his skin. Before he had a chance to respond, Angel had already sauntered off.

“So where do you usually go on your walks?” Angel Dust asked, sucking down his celebratory iced coffee as Husk gingerly placed Fat Nugget’s leash on him.

Husk stood and Fat Nuggets giddily began running towards the door. He tightened his grip on the leash, not letting him get far. “It varies, sometimes I have errands to run.”

“I can’t picture you and my pig going to the post office,” Angel poked fun.

Husk let out a scoff. “The girls love him there,” he said.

Angel Dust gasped, throwing a hand out and catching Husk on the shoulder. “You’re jokin’.”

Husk didn’t respond, instead he just led the two of them out the door.

Angel Dust watched as Fat Nuggets waddled happily down the sidewalk. He followed by Husk’s side–which Husk must have taught him, because Angel certainly didn’t. Fat Nuggets was as undisciplined as his father. It looked like a little bit of regulation did his pig good, and he recognized that it also did himself good.

Angel was finding joy in being outside on a walk rather than cooped up in his room avoiding Charlie. His room was clean and his laundry was done and put away. Things were going well with Cherri, too–he no longer felt the need to avoid responding to her texts when they came in. Things were going…great. And that concept was as foreign to Angel as the feeling that was overcoming him on their walk today.

“What?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hmm?” Angel asked, realizing that he was staring at Husk intently as he pondered. “Nothin’.”

“We’re almost at the deli, you hungry?”

“There’s a deli up this way?” Angel asked, ignoring the question.

“Yeah, we visit sometimes–the wraps are great.”

Angel’s mouth started watering. He skipped lunch, so he was starving. He hoped that Husk couldn’t hear his stomach growling. “Well, if it’s close,” Angel said, hiding his smile from Husk.

In a few minutes, Husk opened the door to the deli and Angel was hit with the inviting smell of fresh bread beckoning him forward. If his mouth had stopped watering before, this was surely going to make it start up again.

“Look who’s back,” someone called from behind the counter. “Bess, the pig is here.”

“Fat Nuggets!” A girl yelled from the kitchen.

Angel heard dainty footfalls speeding towards them. A small imp began racing towards Fat Nuggets and he greeted her happily. Angel heard Fat Nuggets oink happily at their reunion. He looked over at Husk, who shrugged.

“Glad to see the boyfriend this time,” the imp behind the counter said, not looking up from his crossword.

“We’re here for lunch,” Husk said, ignoring the comment. “Hit us up with two wraps. To go.”

“You don’t want to stay?” Bess asked, her eyes wide.

Husk looked over at Angel, asking him with his eyes what he’d like to do.

“We can stay for a bit,” Angel nodded at him.

Husk sighed. Deeply. He wrestled for his wallet and tossed over some cash to the imp. He rang him up quickly and shot a look over at Bess to get back to work.

“Okay, I’m going,” she said regretfully. “I’ll be back with your food.” She made her way back to the kitchen sadly. Just when Angel thought they’d be rid of her, she popped her head back out. “And a snack for Fat Nuggets.”

Husk grabbed them a booth and sat opposite Angel–who was smiling widely. When he looked up, he groaned. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Angel said with a shit-eating grin.

Husk blushed, “You don’t need to, I know what you’re thinking.”

“You really should treat your boyfriend with more respect,” Angel lectured him. “Afterall, you and your boyfriend are on a date right now.”

Husk rose from the booth, clearly done with Angel’s teasing. Angel stood and caught him by the shoulders, forcing him to sit back down,

“I was jokin’, I was jokin’,” Angel said, giggling. “Gosh, don’t get so embarrassed.”

Husk kept his eyes closed, his cheeks stained red. “When I brought Fat Nuggets in here before, Belise asked if I was his owner.” He looked past Angel and towards Belise at the counter. “But I’m not sure how me answering ‘no’ turned into me walking him for my boyfriend,” he said, eyes glaring over at the imp.

Belise waved, “I used to walk somebody’s pet–that’s how I got Bess.” He gestured towards the kitchen.

Angel looked back at Husk, who promptly hid his ever-reddening face in his hands.

“I’m never coming here again,” Husk said, clearly mortified.

Angel laughed, patting Husk on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Husky. We don’t have to tell ‘em I’m your boyfriend,” Angel cooed.

“You could do worse, Husky,” Belise said.

“Could everyone please stop talking?”

“Order up,” Bess said, carrying two trays of food their way. She even had a little plate on top of her head–for presentation. She placed their trays in front of them and then grabbed the other and put it on the floor. She cut up some fresh veggies for Fat Nuggets.

Angel gasped lightly, seeing at how happy Fat Nuggets was. He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture quickly. “Isn’t he just the cutest?” Angel asked, showing the picture to Husk.

“He’s spoiling his dinner,” Husk said, tearing at the wrapping their lunch came in. He opened his mouth wide and took a bite.

Angel laughed at his phone and turned it to Husk again, so he could see the photo he got of him eating. “You look cute when you eat, too.”

Husk glared at Angel and turned away from him as he ate. “Would you just eat?”

Angel put down his phone and smiled. He grabbed the first sustenance he’d had this whole day and began chowing down. It might have been the hunger talking–but this was the best wrap he’d ever fucking had. The tomatoes were fresh and crispy, the onions were zingy and there wasn’t too much lettuce. The meat was moist too!

“Fuck, Husky, this is so good,” Angel said, nearly moaning.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he lectured. “But, yeah, it’s good.”

[ PREVIOUS ] [ MASTERLIST ] [ NEXT ]

#Blacklist #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel #husk #angel dust #HuskerDust #angelhusk

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starrclownshazbinblog · 10 months ago

Note

Mimzy facts or hcs pls 👀

(Okay so there will be less facts but that's because these facts are longer and have a lot more lore.)

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

(Triggerwarning for Eating disorders, fatphobia, sexual assult, and other disgusting topics. Please be warned. Mimzy's story is fucked up.)

Mimzy is someone who is always sick. Mimzy hates her body. Growing up in the 1900's and being a young woman in 1915-1920, being fat was not acceptable. She was constantly made fun of publicly and privately. (Incase you were wondering, the ideal body type for woman in the 20's was very skinny and very straight. Flappers would actually bind their chests to make their boobs smaller.) Mimzy, being a fat short woman, has alot of curves and bigger chest. This made being a flapper alot harder. This mockery and resentment made Mimzy want to be "beautiful". She is constantly on diets, she works out all the time, she's barely eats anything. If she happens to eat a healthy meal then 30 minutes later Mimzy is over the toilet making herself puke. Mimzy hates her body and wants to change it. Because she's so sick, she's also really tired all the time.

Mimzy is not a pleasant person when you first met her. She is crabby and snappy. If you stick around you'll see how sweet and caring she actually is.

Mimzy is a amazing singer and piano player. (That's why she's a siren. Also she robs bad men.)

Mimzy was murdered by her manager. When Mimzy began to take off, her manager began to get harsher and meaner. More practice, more drinking, more diets. Her manager then tried to make Mimzy sleep with him. Mimzy is a sex repulsed asexual. She refused. It didn't end well. He was never prosecuted.

Mimzy doesn't trust alot of men, with good reason. The only men she really trusts is Angel, Alastor, and Husk. She hates Valentino. Absolutely despises him. She neutral on Vox.

Mimzy is unaware of Alastor's crush on her. She doesn't believe that anyone could love someone like her. Oh wrong she is.

Alastor actually made Mimzy's costume she wears now. The costume she feel in hell in was super reveling (her manager made her wear it), tore up, and Mimzy never liked it. When she met Alastor, one of the first people she met, he made a outfit SHE liked. She's worn it ever since.

Mimzy really likes flowers. Roses are her favorite. You can tell by her costume.

Mimzy is a big girls girl. She's a feminist that has fought for woman's rights for YEARS, in her human life and demon life.

Mimzy has a less dramatic view like Alastor on Charlie's Hotel. She doesn't believe that Charlie can get them to heaven, but she's willing to try.

Mimzy really likes Valerie. She she's alot of herself in Valerie and knows what it's like to be abused by men.

Mimzy takes Valerie out to do fun things sometimes. Shopping, cafes, parks. Whatever Valerie wants to do.

Mimzy is a social butterfly. She'll talk to anyone she trusts for hours.

Mimzy has sung on Alastor's radio broadcasts. When she first opened her Jazz Club she didn't know how to advertise her jazz club. Alastor suggested that she sing on his broadcast so people would know how beautiful of a singer she is. People showed up slowly to the jazz club after that broadcast. (Alastor threatened some of them.)

Mimzy is a particular smoker. She hates alcohol, absolutely despises it.

Sorry that there isn't alot of facts like the others. Hope the information makes up for it.

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

#hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel rewrite blog #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel mimzy #habzin hotel alastor

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tropes-and-tales · 2 years ago

Text

A Bit of Color

December 26: Quilt/Scrooge - Sunny versus Grumpy (Ray Merrimen x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW: Angst; Ray is a rude boi; mention of suicide

Word Count: 1828

AN: Requested by the lovely @bport76!

Ray would have never chosen you for his crew, but Bosco brought you in when they lost their intel person. He’s dubious at first—you’re preternaturally chipper, so cheerful and sweet that Ray’s teeth ache after he has to deal with you.

But Bosco has a good handle on their needs, and you’re an absolute ace at tech. You can hack anything: any computer, any phone system. You can find blueprints and hack a security camera, all with that saccharine attitude that grates against him.

It’s like a Hallmark movie fucked a Care Bear and created you. You dress in bright colors, usually dresses where the skirt flares out as you skip around the fucking chop shop. You hum pop songs as you work. You bake for the guys, cupcakes with rainbow frosting and chocolate chip cookies. You fuss over the guys too, take on a mother hen role that frays Ray’s nerves.

Hell, you even smell sweet, the scent of vanilla and lavender lingering even long after you leave.

Ray would get rid of you in a heartbeat, but you’re too damned good. He knows he could look for someone with half of your skills and never find them.

So he puts up with you. For your stellar hacking skills, he endures your colorful/sweet/manic pixie bullshit with a clenched jaw and a grumble.

-----

You’re also one of those crafty women, always knitting or sewing or painting something. More than once, Ray and the guys have come back from a heist just to find you sitting there and waiting for them, a piece of knitwork in your lap.

You’re also one of those generous types, which means when the holidays roll around, you become extra insufferable.

You bake. You make candy. You can your own jams, jellies, salsas. You make chili and cornbread, feed the guys when they are working late one night. Ray grunts when you hand him a bowl, and he calculates how much harder he’ll have to work out the next day to burn off all the fucking calories—

You give them gifts. Handmade gifts.

For Lavoux, it’s sweaters that you knit. Three sweaters, matching, for him, his wife, and his daughter.

For Bosco, it’s an elaborately wrapped box of homemade fudges. Chocolate, peanut butter, rocky road, orange cream.

“You’re trying to make me fat,” Bosco says as he pulls you in for a hug, pulls you off your feet. “I love ya, girl.”

For Mack, it’s a beer stein that you apparently made yourself, glazed yourself, and fired in a nearby community kiln. Because why the fuck not, Ray figures. He wonders if you mined the clay yourself too, just to be extra fucking irritating.

For Ray? Of course you have a gift for Ray.

It’s a quilt. At least it’s not super colorful, like Rainbow Brite puked on it—it’s shades of grey and blue in small rectangles stitched together.

“It’s a variation of the Big Fences pattern,” you tell him, as if he knows what the hell that means, and he misses the shy smile on your face.

“I don’t really need a quilt.” He refolds it, then tries to hand it back to you.

You frown, your eyebrows knit together. “But…it’s a gift.”

“It’s L.A. I never will need a quilt.”

You seem to misunderstand him because your face splits into a bright grin. “Oh, but I used lightweight batting! It’s not too heavy, so it’s actually perfect for L.A. weather—”

“No.” He pushes the quilt back at you, frowns until you take it. “I don’t need this.”

Ray never has been very tactful, and no one would ever accuse him of being soft, but the way your face crumples as you take the quilt and clutch it to your chest, the way your eyes fill with tears but how to try to play it off, give a shaky laugh and say “sure, sorry Ray, of course”…

He’s never felt like more of a monster in his life.

And then you leave, come up with a flimsy excuse of how you need to be somewhere else.

Even if he didn’t feel like the world’s biggest asshole, the guys cut him zero fucking slack.

“That’s cold,” Lavoux tells him. “Ice cold, man.”

“Like watching someone kill a kitten,” Mack agrees.

Bosco glares at Ray, crosses his arms. “This shit takes time, Merrimen. All this crafty homemade shit? It’s hours of her life, and that quilt was easily the most time-intensive of all of our gifts.”

“I didn’t ask for a gift.” Ray crosses his own arms, matches Bosco’s energy.

“And she didn’t ask for a fucking Scrooge. You don’t want the quilt? You tell her ‘thank you so much, this is great,’ and then you take it home and tuck it away somewhere. Fuck, Ray. You lose all your home training in prison?”

“She’d never even know if you threw it away,” Mack adds. “You coulda just taken it and tossed it, and she’d be none the wiser.”

“Being rude like that is bad karma. Bad juju,” says Lavoux.

“No such thing,” Ray says, and his tone makes it clear that the discussion is over.

-----

Ray doesn’t believe in karma or juju, and nothing overtly bad happens. Still, he has to admit the vibe in the crew has changed.

You’re not the same. Maybe Mack was right, maybe what Ray did to you was like killing a kitten. You still joke around with the guys, but the minute—the absolute second—Ray shows up, you shut down.

You still dress in your colorful dresses, but somehow it’s sadder when your outfits are paired with a slight frown and a sad silence. You don’t hum anymore. No singing along to bright pop songs under your breath as you hack into banking mainframes.

You don’t bake for them anymore either, and that’s what pushes the guys to near mutiny.

“You need to fix this shit,” Bosco mutters to him one night. “I haven’t had one of her peanut butter brownies in weeks.”

“So go to a fucking bakery.”

“I said fix it.” He pushes the words out through gritted teeth. “You’re the one that broke her. You’re the one that’s gonna fix her.”

-----

How can Ray fix it with you?

He has no way into your world view. His life has never been colorful. He grew up in a military family, went straight into the military himself. MARSOC, then his discharge, then his life of crime.

Never any color. Just the dun and greys of the military, of prison. Never any music or sweetness and Ray doesn’t see what he’s missing in all of that.

He does the best he can. He asks himself what he would want, and then he does the exact opposite, which is why he finds himself on your doorstep, a fistful of colorful flowers from the grocery store clutched in his fist.

-----

You’ve always been reasonably assured around Ray, but in your kitchen, you stumble. You offer him tea, then shake your head at yourself, mutter stupid to yourself.

“I have…a beer. If you want it.”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

You reach into your fridge and hand him the bottle gingerly, then perch yourself in the chair opposite of him.

Ray takes a drink, looks around. He thought your house would have been nothing but bright colors, but it looks…mostly normal. A few pops of color here and there: paintings on the walls, knick-knacks on the shelves. But nothing outrageous.

You only stare at him solemnly, a subtle tension in your features.

“I came by to say I’m sorry. About the quilt.”

“I guess it was pretty stupid. A quilt in Los Angeles.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I’m just an asshole.”

If there’s one other thing Ray likes about you, aside from your skills as a hacker, it’s your honesty. You never lie to them.

When he calls himself an asshole, you nod at him in agreement.

“I’d like it back,” he continues. “The quilt. If you’d be willing.”

“I don’t know.” You turn and look out the window into your backyard. “You don’t have to take it just to be nice.”

“I’m not nice. I want it. I’ll use it.” A beat. “I don’t have anything homemade in my apartment. It’ll make it nicer.”

You turn back to face him. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

You smile, and it’s the same shy one you had when you first handed him his gift. “Okay then. I’ll go get it.”

You stand up and leave the kitchen, disappear into some deeper part of the house, but Ray stands up too. He takes his beer into your living room and studies the framed photos on the shelf there. You and friends. You and a dog. A little girl that he guesses is you, with an older man in the full dress uniform of the military.

You come into the living room with the quilt neatly folded in your arms, and you see Ray studying your pictures.

“This your dad?” Ray asks, pointing at the man in the uniform.

“…yes.”

“Marines?”

“Yes.” A beat. “He died when I was young.”

“Sorry. Which campaign?”

Another beat, longer. “He…he committed suicide.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Still…” He looks at the picture again, sees you as a little girl with a wide grin, eyes squeezed shut.

He clears his throat, offers you a bit of himself. “You know, my old man was military. Fought in Iraq, came back different. So I get it, a little. I understand what it’s like to grow up like that.”

Though he doesn’t point out the difference: Ray followed down that same military path, allowed himself to be molded into a killing machine with MARSOC. You split off in an entirely different direction, filled your life with color and light and sweetness.

You nod in acknowledgement, then hand him the quilt. “Here you go.”

He takes it and waits for you to look him in the eye until he gives you the smallest of smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It’ll be the nicest thing at my place.”

You get a sly tilt to your lips, a smirk more than a smile. “Not much competition though, right?”

“Oh, that’s how you’re gonna be then? You’re gonna knock my decorating skills?” he jokes back.

“Your decorating skills probably aren’t that bad. It’s easy to match black and grey,” you say with the same teasing grin.

“Well, there’s some blue in this.” He holds up the folded quilt, runs a finger along the neat stitching. “A good start.”

“It doesn’t hurt to have a little color in your life, Ray.”

He guesses not. And more than any color, he has insight into who you are. An inroad into what formed you, what made you the person you are. Better than any color is intel, and Ray has some valuable intel now.

#ray merrimen #ray merrimen x reader #ray merrimen imagine #den of thieves #tropes-and-tales #winter prompts 2022

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abductsanxiety · 2 years ago

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So @lizery @nelost and I were talking and imagine like a

VashWood Florist-Tattoo Artist AU

- They have their shops set up on opposite sides of the street

- Rem owns the flower shop and Vash is one of her employees, Wolfwood owns the tattoo shop across from them

- Meryl and Milly are their landlords

- Wolfwood and Livio are roommates

- Livio works as a mortician and owns a morgue in the same building as Wolfwood and he sometimes sends Wolfwood to get some flowers for him to make the place look nicer (he seems to need them more often since he found out his roommate fancies the cute florist across the street for some reason. And Rem also tries to set them up with each other every chance she gets)

- and who would Wolfwood be to say no. After all he'd be able to see a certain spikey haired someone

- so they slowly get to know one another after months of just starring at each other through the window and then quickly looking away with a big fat blush on their face when they get caught

- there's like the occasional flirting and some awkward moments, the usual

- Knives also owns a coffee shop next to the flower shop (we couldn't decide if Legato is a weird obsessive Knives stalker in this one or his cook who admirers him a little too much but I personally like the second option more even though the first one would be more in character)

- Knives also notices that his brother starts to like the stinky guy he sees every morning when opening his coffee shop who smokes 2 whole packs of cigarettes before he has to open his own and he absolutely hates it (he's sometimes seen glaring out of the window and his regulars are getting concerned)

(- Knives shop also has a white bench infront of it in the outside sitting area iykwim)

- so anyway, one day it's pouring outside and Vash obviously forgot his umbrella so Wolfwood offered him to take him home on his motorcycle

- newsflash: they both got soaked

- when they arrive at Vashs place Vash invites Wolfwood in to dry off and offers him new clothes. But the storm get's so bad that Wolfwood can't leave (like full on hurricane or some shit) and then one thing leads to another, you know the drill "only one bed" and so on

- they start dating and after a little over a year when Vash is on a business trip in the Netherlands to buy flowers etc where he dragged Wolfwood along, Wolfwood proposes on a romantic date in a tulip field

((- Legato lives in the apartment right next to Wolfwood and Livio and one morning when Vash leaves their apartment, a little after him and Wolfwood started dating (without ever telling his brother about it), Knives is leaving at the same time from Legatos and let's just say hell breaks loose))

((we will probably draw some of it out as soon as we have time for it but for now I hope this is enough))

#just some friends losing their minds over their new hyperfixation #vashwood #florist tattoo artist au #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #millions knives #milly thompson #meryl stryfe #livio the double fang #legato bluesummers #rem saverem

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caffeine-clouds · 2 years ago

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Me again! I think it goes without saying Sonic Frontiers had some great writing and fixed a lot of characters. Assuming the writing stays the same, who do you think should be the next character to have their personality fixed? I think Shadow!

Hello again anon! Oho! I absolutely agree with you there - I think Shadow needs some depth the most out of the cast right now. Silver is mostly fine - he just needs things to do, Rouge is pretty consistent - but each game will use a slider to determine how selfish or not selfish she is, and Blaze... yeah she's fine, just give her some damn screentime.

Shadow is the glaring, gaping hole that needs to be addressed. So in a world where I somehow snuck into SEGA headquarters and wrote Shadow's character for the next game - I wanted to say how I'd approach his character:

The less appealing way, to me, is to make him act back how he was in the 06 era. I LOVE 06 Shadow, he's my favourite Shadow - but that version of him is a far cry from the personality we've seen from him in the past decade. I wouldn't complain if this happened but I think there's a smarter way to go about this.

In much the same way as Tails was dealt with - I would achknowledge Shadow's portrayals in the latest games and comics - all his assholery, all of his fat ego in the way, and just not giving a damn about the people around him because SEGA decided he's not allowed to have friends now.

So take this asshole, and what do you do with him?

You humble him.

You get him a villain that just absolutely wrecks shop and kicks his shit in so hard that he's forced to rethink his life decisions. Let Shadow be confident entering in - like it's a rehash of Shadow vs. Infinite - but unlike with Infinite, this antagonist trumps him in every single way. This man's ego needs to be stripped the fuck down for any change in his character to happen.

He gets his ass beaten so hard that Sonic, Rouge, Omega or WHOEVER has to come save him, and they have to retreat

Cowards run, I win - Okay bitch, let me put you in a situation you're forced to run from. Is your outlook the same?

The game ensues with Shadow basically being hellbent on destroying this antagonist and trying to fall back into his old habits - but as the story goes on it becomes increasingly clearer that he needs the help of his allies.

Bonus points - I'd want a scene where Shadow's behaviour is actually called out by any of the prior characters, or hell - you want a callback? Let Amy do it - but I want a character to say to his face just how much of a nuisance he's been.

He learns to realise throughout the plot that those around him are not a burden - and are in fact very useful, he learns more about each of his peers - and sees that they all want to give him their friendship and that hey - kindness is kind of nice, actually. Maybe Shadow can admit to why he's been acting the way he has to Rouge and Omega - and finally recieve some damn consoling

I think of a fear of getting close to people is a viable explanation considering a certain blonde 12 year old. Shadow's moved on from tying himself to Maria's last dying wish - but it's undeniable that she and her death has impacted his psyche in many more ways. I hate to beat a dead horse but just as with Tails' recent cowardice in Forces - I did want to explain his turn in character.

In the end - he's able to defeat the villain with the help of his friends. He doesn't end the story with a completely different personality - not at all. On the other end, he's still got a large ego and he's our usual broody blunt man - but he's come out of the story with the realization that it's okay to be vulnerable and lean on others when he needs it. His strongest bonds are still with Rouge and Omega - and he makes the move to properly repair his relationship with them - officially forming Team Dark that will move forward together from now on.

Shadow isn't attached by the hip to them, per say - he has his independence streak, but now - he does actually have at least 2 friends that he works with frequently. But I hope his bond with the others would get to be strengthened as well. His relationship with Sonic is still complicated, but a little less hostile on Shadow's end now.

So yeah, SEGA decided Team Dark aren't a team anymore - so fuck it, I'll just make them a team a second time because I care too much.

Sorry I went on a tangeant because of your ask, anon! But this was really fun to explore. Thank you so much for the question :)

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic frontiers #shadow the hedgehog #sonic writing #sth #team dark

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seradae · 9 months ago

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The following is an extremely rambling personal post

I came out as a trans woman when I was 32. Before then, I had identified as genderfluid for ages, but it was more how I felt than the way I presented. To virtually everyone, I was a man, and I was okay with that. Sort of.

While I had known GNC and trans folks growing up, it wasn't something I knew much about, and I certainly didn't consider it as an option. Even if I had spent a decade online "pretending" to be a woman and playing one in every game I could. Hell, I even had a name picked out (Erica), but it was fantasy... Right?

I first seriously considered transitioning when I was 18. At the time, I was friends with a whole bunch of furries, all of whom were queer and many of whom were trans (and all the ones I still keep up with have since come out as some flavor of trans). They were able to answer my questions, and ask me the right ones to make me realize that no, not everyone feels the way I do. Not everyone wishes with every fiber of their being that they had been AFAB. Not everyone thinks about whether they're worthy of feeling right in their body.

I spent so much time thinking about it, and frankly I knew it was what I wanted, but I also thought I knew why it was impossible. Why it was a terrible idea. Not because I wasn't a woman, but for two very specific reasons.

Reason #1: My business partner at the time (I was doing the tech startup thing) and closest friend was a massive transphobe. Unashamedly so. His influence left me with a ton of internalized transphobia, and I knew that it would be the end of that relationship. When I came out on Facebook 14 years later, I blocked him that day so I wouldn't have to see the vitriol.

Reason #2: I thought I would be an ugly woman. Or worse, that I'd look like an ugly man trying to look like a woman. In retrospect, this was a dumb reason, and seeing a post to the effect of "if the thing holding you back from transitioning is that you think you'd be an ugly woman, you're already a woman" was actually a huge part of what spurred me to finally do it. I never liked my face, never liked my skin, never liked my body. Untangling the body dysmorphia from gender dysphoria is still an ongoing process for me, but I feel better about my body now than I ever have before.

So, I'm 32 and I'm a baby trans woman. I don't know shit, but I have an incredibly supportive wife to help me explore myself and learn who I am. I have all these wonderful resources, and things are going well. But I am absolutely full of regret that I can't shake.

Every day, I oscillate between two states: wishing I had transitioned earlier, and knowing that I wouldn't have the life I have now if I had. I knew I couldn't rewind time and change things, but I still felt guilty. I have a wife and kid that I love and wouldn't trade for anything, but I kept thinking about the opportunities I missed.

I thought often about what it could've been like to experience my first makeup (aside from some simple gothy eyeliner and black nail polish) as a teen. Sleepovers with girl friends. Shopping for clothes that would've made me feel comfortable and happy.

I'm sure I would've faced hell, but I already was. I was a depressed kid, bullied throughout my school years, the first out and proud bisexual in a rural high school, fat, and awkward as fuck. But I could've hated myself less, or at least differently.

But a few years in, I don't feel these same regrets anymore. I might not be a teenager, but it doesn't make those firsts any less special. I get to experience them with my loving wife. I get to experience them with money, which is a far cry from my childhood. I get to experience them with the knowledge of how far I've come, and that I fucking made it.

I didn't think I would make it to 18. I didn't think I would make it to 21. I knew I wouldn't make it to 25, for sure. And now I'm closer to 50 than I am 21, even if I've got a ways to go. While I can't see the future, I can say that if I don't make it there, it won't be at my own hand. That's not something I would've been able to say before.

I still think about the "what if"s. It's impossible not to. But I don't regret my transition timeline anymore. I am living my damn life and I'm living it well. It's a good time to be me. Every day is; even the hard ones.

#stfu sera

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robynmizore · 7 months ago

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Redemption April Fool’s Special Chapter:

The REAL Story of Conquest

Omg hai ^___^ I’m Robyn and I absolutely luuuv @@ games <3 and my fav is Fire Emblem!!! Okies so anyways, im going to tell you about the BEST day of my life when I met my hot husband Takumi!! <333333333 OMFGZ HE WAS SOOOOO FREAKIN KAWAII IN PERSON!!! Supa kawaii desu!!!!!!!! ^______________________________^ When I walked into Hoshido ==I looked up and saw…TAKUMI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333!!!! “ KONNICHIWA OMGZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ SUPA SUPA SUPA KAWAII KUJO-SAMA!!!!!” I yelled n___n then he turned chibi then un-chibi!! he looked at me [O.O;;;;;;;;;;;] and then he saw how hot I am ** he grabbed my hand and winked ~_ then pulled me behind a pocky shop o.o and started to kiss me!!!!!! [OMG!!! HIS TONGUE TASTED LIKE PINEAPPLE!!! RLY!! . <.< .< (O) (O) (O)] then I saw some baka fat bitch watching us and I could tell she was undressing him with her eyes!!!!!!! [ -________- ;;;;; OMG I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER!!! (ò_ó) (ò_ó) (ò_ó)] so I yelled “UH UH BAKA NEKO THAT’S MY MAN WHY DON’T YOU GO HOOK UP WITH RYOMA CAUSE TAKUMI-SAMA LOVES ME!!! (ò_ó)” then Takumi held me close == and said he would only ever love me and kissed me again!!!!!!! ** (O)/ then we went to his castle and banged all night long and made 42 babies and they all became BEAUTIFUL PINEAPPLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nyaaaaa!!! (^<) ^_____________;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

“W-what the hell?!” Niles spluttered after reading that horrid abomination, throwing it across the room.

“Robyn, you said you were going to write a crack fic chapter today!” everyone’s favorite family friendly 😉 comedic relief seethed.

The authoress, lovingly named after the Goddess of Fate herself, threw her hands up in the air.

“I did!” she protested.

“That is NOT what they meant! This is abuse of the senses!” Niles yelled.

“Well I’m sorry, I thought it was hilarious!” The authoress crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want then?”

The thief pondered this for a moment, then a wicked smirk crept on his features.

“Say.. do you remember why you wrote this tale in the first place?”

She nodded.

“Good good..”

Niles circled the room slowly, and he could feel the gears in his head turning.

“Why don’t you give it.. a better ending. Maybe something just a little more.. chaotic?”

The pair traded mischievous smirks. After all.. this whole novel was inspired by a particular wall scene. This was going to be very fun.

Warning.. profanity and EXTREME cringe

“OMG CORRIN!”

Nohr and Hoshido (except Takumi, the only reasonable one) squealed obnoxiously.

They all met up in a field because Nohr is full of assholes and decided the Hoshidan royalty did not deserve to grieve their dead mother, and needed to be thrown into a brutal war immediately after. Did they actually do anything to deserve it? Nope, but Daddy Garon hates peace and decided everyone needed to die for an even bigger Daddy Anankos.

“OMG CORRIN!!” Camilla squealed, waving her mommy milkers in everyone’s face.

“OMG CORRIN! Hurry up and ditch your blood family already!” Leo said with an eye roll. “I know dad tried to make you kill two innocent people from Hoshido, but like, he’s not that bad!”

“No, come with us!” Ryoma called. “We don’t abuse you!”

“Aw, we only locked them in a tower for years and years!” Elise protested.

“HMMMMMMMMMMMM…..”

Corrin thought deeply and logically about this.

“I choose… NOHR!”

“What, why?!” the Hoshidan siblings yelled.

“Oh, I wanna know why dad tried to kill me. So I’ve decided I’m walking back into a castle full of Nohrians to ask him. Also, I like my Nohrian siblings. Anyways, see ya!”

(Later in the Nohrian castle)

“Dad, did you try to kill me?” Corrin asked.

“No.” Garon deadpanned, clearly annoyed that Corrin returned alive.

“Ok, I believe you!”

“Whatever. Anyways, I need you to go to this super dangerous forest where you could easily die to prove I can trust you. Alone. Also if anyone tries to help you I’ll kill them.”

“Yep that’s totally not a red flag or anything!” Corrin replied.

Corrin’s next adventures consisted of similar stupidity- I mean missions, until that fateful day on Port Dia.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Takumi shouted when he confronted the Nohrian army, only to see Corrin complaining about having to fight their Hoshidan siblings.

“Ugh..” the prince groaned, facepalming as he let out a slow breath to collect himself, then shouted

“WHEN WILL YOU REALIZE THAT YOUR ACTIONS… HAVE…CONSEQUENCES?!?!?!”

“They do?” Corrin asked, frowning. “But I have plot armor!”

“Oh that’s it.. I’m taking away your water privileges on turn ten!” Takumi seethed.

After a furious battle, Corrin, who is now magically a master tactician despite growing up locked in a tower, managed to take out the pineapple haired, bow wielding menace.

“Hahaha loser, get out!” Corrin said smugly. “If you do, we won’t kill you. Probably.”

“Gee thanks, you’ve all really proven yourselves trustworthy, especially after killing BOTH MY PARENTS UNDER THE GUISE OF PEACE!” Takumi snapped. “And our civilians!”

“How rude. Mommy should beat some manners into you!” Camilla gasped, her mommy milkers flopping everywhere because ✨ fanservice ✨

“Nah let him be mad. He’s justified. Still gonna make him suffer unnecessarily tho.” Corrin replied.

“If it weren’t for you, Mother and our civilians would be alive!” Takumi shouted, causing Corrin to glitch out.

“T-too m-m-much l-logic!!!”

Then Takumi was seized with a horrible headache and retreated, swearing vengeance for his mother’s murder.

“Wow he has issues!” Camilla mommy milkers exclaimed.

That night, Corrin scribbled into their diary instead of responsibly planning the next battle.

“Dear diary.” Corrin bitched.

“Takumi hates me for literally no reason. Wtf even is his problem?!

-Super Triggered.”

“OMG CORRIN! Have you planned for the next battle?” Jakob asked.

“SHUT UP JAKOB, I HAVE PLOT ARMOR!!” Corrin screeched.

Later, Elise fell violently ill and Ryoma refused to let them get medicine, and Corrin yelled at them that they were a jerk despite killing Hoshido’s queen, civilians, and terrorizing their kingdom (also Nohr kinda did the same thing in Birthright to Takumi soooo.. payback?) so they were forced to break a bunch of poisonous pots with only one healer. Then they encountered Takumi again while trying to quell a totally reasonable and expected uprising.

“Wow, dad’s kinda mean. I should just ignore it though.” Corrin remarked.

Hans decided to come and “help” after giving a totally fake apology in which Corrin was immediately like

“Ok, I believe you!”

“Yo.” Takumi said, shooting Corrin with an arrow.

“OH MY GODS THERE’S A PERSON HERE?!” Corrin screeched.

“I’VE BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME, MORON!” Takumi fired back. “I’m literally standing in the dark with a glowing bow!”

“You could have killed me!” Corrin whined, making Takumi face-palm.

“That was the point!”

Then Scarlet showed up.

“Wow, traitor.” Camilla mommy milkers whined.

“Corrin literally did the same thing.” Takumi deadpanned.

“OMG CORRIN!! LEAVE THEM ALONE THEY’RE PERFECT!” Elise simped.

“QUIET NOHRIAN SCUM!” Takumi snapped, firing.

“Wow ok hater. If you’d just have a reasonable discussion, my totally fair ruler of a dad would end this peacefully even though we keep launching unprovoked attacks on you.” Corrin said.

“If I kill all Nohrians, maybe this head pain will go away.” Takumi muttered, and everyone conveniently ignored Takumi’s obvious mental struggles.

Once again, Nohr won. Azura ignored Takumi’s clear signs of possession, Hans went on a killing spree, Corrin weakly protested in which Hans replied

“Nope. Daddy Garon said so.”

“Where’s the justice?!” Corrin gasped stupidly.

“Meh. Idk.” Camilla mommy milkers replied. “But Daddy Garon will kill me if I disobey so just ignore all red flags.”

“Ok, I believe you!” Corrin said.

Later, there was an assassination attempt on Daddy Garon by this songstress who looked and sounded exactly like Azura but totally wasn’t for some reason. After that Azura conveniently showed Corrin a magical crystal that showed them that Daddy Garon was GASP a slime monster!!!

Hm.. should I tell my siblings? Corrin pondered, then started glitching out.

“T-too m-m-much l-logic!”

Nah, let’s just destroy Hoshido and disregard everyone’s feelings. Especially Takumi. Screw that guy.

Corrin’s next “adventures” involved killing some guys for his boots (in the name of peace ofc), almost getting blown up by ninjas while also escorting Saizo through his suicide attacks for one measly speedwing. Corrin also had to take a good look for like an hour or so before using a dragon vein lest their army be cut off.

Then they saved the Hoshidan royals, everyone went OMG CORRIN!! (Except Takumi, who was so reasonably salty by this bs, he threw himself across the table when Hinoka asked him to pass the salt) Elise bullied Sakura, Corrin became a furry killer, Xander got beat up by some wind and a pack of Bolt Naginata using Falcon Knights. Oh, also Lilith died at some point and we’re all supposed to care for some reason.

Then Corrin beat up a small child (aka Sakura) in the name of peace, tied her up, and had her watch a bunch of defenseless soldiers get brutally murdered right before her eyes right after promising peace because Daddy Garon said so. And then at last came the fateful day that inspired this whole tale in the first place. Oh how differently it was going to end today. Because a devilish one-eyed thief paid our favorite second prince of Hoshido a nice visit and left him a nice little present…

“Ow, what the hell are these hard objects?!” Corrin yelped, ripping one out of their bare foot.

They were at the Great Wall of Suzanoh, aka Takumi’s wall of doom. Filled with the frustrated screams of Fire Emblem players alike. And at the very top of the wall stood Takumi in all his silver pineapple-haired glory, Fujin Yumi in hand.

“Your invasion of Hoshido ends now, Corrin!” Takumi yelled. “Everywhere in Hoshido is covered in LEGO. I hope you feel the excruciating pain we felt when you chose Nohr-“

“SCREW THIS! I’M PLAYING BIRTHRIGHT!!” Corrin yelled.

“You’re.. what?” Takumi asked in confusion, then Corrin performed an Emmeryn off the wall.

“…..”

Takumi watched Corrin fall with a neutral look on his face.

“Oh look..”

His expression abruptly shifted.

“..The trash took itself out. ..Wait.”

Then he saw Iago The Douche Bird Mage cackling with delight and fired an arrow, knocking him off the wall too.

“There.” Takumi said, his expression back to normal.

Meanwhile, Hinata was paging curiously through a book a certain daydreamer dropped during the fight.

“..Hey Lord Takumi? Some Nohrian weirdo wrote a romantic story about you and…. Prince Leo?! They called it.. Leokumi?”

“Oh, is that so?” Prince Takumi replied calmly, his hazel gaze shifting to Leo, who was calling Forrest a disgrace and calmly fired another arrow, knocking Leo off the wall too.

“Perfect.”

Then Takumi went to defeat Nohr, married the beautiful Goddess of Fate (named Robyn) then went to live happily ever after.

Niles: Meanwhile in someone else’s Fire Emblem Fates play through~

Happy April Fool’s Day lmao. Real chapter of Redemption will be out Sunday xD

3 notes · View notes

annalisearabella · 25 days ago

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Being fat and autistic and trying to shop for clothes in person is fucking hell and im so pissed off and it's only 9:30

Either the plus size sections get fazed out/downsized and even when I do find my size it's like. Made with the kinds of fabric that i absolutely hate touching

And don't get me started on price like why do I have to settle for $50 and up for shitty clothing?

Yes I could get clothes custom made but maybe I should also be able to walk into a store and find something like everyone fuckin else??

I wanted that one tank top I saw at Torrid but I cannot justify $50 for a thin-ass tank top with a cute embellishment like wtf I can embelish my own shit I just need a base that doesn't have the bad texture and makes me wanna claw it off while I'm wearing it

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jazwritesalot · 2 years ago

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Mocha Choco Latte - Chapter 2: Iced Caramel Macchiato

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou/Bakugou Katsuki, KiriBaku Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Current Word Count: 21,000 Tags: Aged-Up Characters, AU- College/University, AU- No Quirks, AU- Coffee Shops & Cafes, Barista Bakugou, Actor Kirishima, slow burn, background IzuOcha, mentions of Bakusquad, rated for language, Bakugou Katsuki swears a lot, Bakugou Katsuki is bad at feelings, drinking, house parties

Link to AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter summary: Alternatively titled: Katsuki Consumes Enough Caffeine to Challenge God, and Win.

Fate, as it would seem, liked to spit in Katsuki’s face. It was a slow Thursday night at the cafe, which Katsuki was grateful for. It gave him plenty of time to read over his statistics textbook to prepare for his exam the next morning, 8am to be precise. If he could go back and shake himself down for registering for an 8am class, he would. What he wasn’t grateful for, however, was the stupid new uniform he had to wear. Sato had given them all these hideous, mustard colored polos with an embroidered ‘SR’ on the left to wear for their shifts and he hated it. No matter how many times he washed it, the shirt was itchy as hell. He was thankful that the hat was at least a simple black ballcap, but only barely. He wished they could go back to wearing whatever the hell they wanted to, but no, they were starting to get more recognition, so they had to have a signature look. Whatever.

He was squinting at the text, trying to make sense of the different formulas while simultaneously kicking himself for saving statistics for his last year of university, when the bells on the door chimed. He marked his place, downed his fourth shot of espresso, and shut the book, shoving it on the shelf under the register. He looked up and promptly his heart fell—standing at the door on the phone was none other than Kirishima Eijirou, the man who had been haunting his dreams for the past month. He wished he could blame the flush on his face on embarrassment from their last encounter, but sadly, that wasn’t the case. The more he thought about Kirishima the past month, the more he realized he had a big fat crush on the actor, which was asinine because he barely knew the guy, aside from what the interviews showed him. Not that he would admit to locking himself away in his room to watch interviews of Kirishima. No, that would be too weird. And something that Deku would do, not him. It was weird, though, because it seemed like he was actually a genuine and down-to-earth person, despite his fame and success. He didn’t seem to match any stereotypes for famous people, and as a fellow misfit, Katsuki could appreciate that.

“Oh hey! It’s you again!” Kirishima smiled at him, and he wished that the ground would just swallow him whole at this point. Of course he would remember him. Why wouldn’t he—it’s not every day you get insulted at a restaurant.

“Welcome to Sugar Rush. What can I get for you today?” he bit out, trying to keep the weariness from being too apparent. Kirishima took a minute to look over the menu, and Katsuki couldn’t help but check him out. He was in the same ridiculous costume as last time, which did nothing for Katsuki’s sanity. How was he supposed to ignore his stupid feelings for the man when he could see how absolutely jacked the guy was? It just wasn’t fair.

“I’d like one of those iced caramel macchiatos this time. Medium please. Oh, and to-go again.” Katsuki tried to keep the relief off his face. Thank God he wasn’t staying. That would have been a new fresh level of hell that he was certain he wouldn’t be able to handle right now.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

“I’d like one of those shrimp katsu sandwiches please!”

“Sure,” he grumbled, pressing the buttons on the register. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Of course he would want food. “Will that be all?”

“That’ll do it man!” he grinned, handing over his card. Katsuki took the payment and ran it while he scrawled the instructions for the drink onto the cup. He handed the card back and Kirishima smiled at him again as he pocketed it and went to the end of the bar to wait for his purchase. Katsuki threw another sidelong glance his way and swallowed loudly, clicking the top of the marker again to quickly scribble his phone number and ‘call me’ underneath the ‘Shitty Hair’ that already adorned the cup. He could blame it on the current caffeine high he was on, but he had to try—it wasn’t every day that an actor waltzed into your cafe happy to see you after you insulted him. That had to mean something, right? An almost manic grin split his face as he put the cup down and grabbed the receipt. This was going to work; he was certain of it. Nothing could mess this up. The grin dropped from his face as quickly as it came as he turned toward the kitchen window and was met with a mop of green hair loosely secured by a hair tie. Fuck. How could he forget Deku was the one working the kitchen tonight?

“Kacchan? Can I have the ticket?” Izuku asked, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, hand outstretched. Katsuki thrusted the ticket into his hand and leaned into the window, getting as close to him as he could.

“Listen here, you little nerd. Don’t you dare fuck this up, you hear me?” he hissed, eyes narrowing.

“What are you talking about?” Izuku laughed nervously, placing the ticket on the rail, and scanned it quickly before turning to grab some bread from the bread bin. Katsuki took note of the headphones in his ears. Oh, so that’s why the nerd was clueless.

“This is Kirishima’s order.”

“What?!” Izuku shouted, jerking back in surprise. His hand hadn’t cleared the lip of the container, however, and he brought the entire bread bin crashing to the ground, slices decorating the floor. “Fuck,” he groaned, throwing his head back as he placed the last two slices onto the counter.

“Oh my God,” Katsuki sighed, hiding his face in the palm of his hand. “Just…don’t do your whole weird fanboy shit with him.”

“S-sure thing, Kacchan!” Izuku squeaked, hands shaking as he went about preparing the meal.

“Guess I’ll fuckin’ take sandwiches off the menu for the night,” Katsuki grumbled, turning away from the disaster in the kitchen. He grabbed the milk from the fridge, tossing it to the counter before shoving the small metal cup into the espresso machine, setting it for a double shot. The machine whirred to life, the smell of freshly brewing coffee filling the small space. He kept stealing glances at Kirishima as he added the pumps of vanilla syrup and milk to the cup before dumping ice into the mixture. The actor was tapping away on his phone, smiling dumbly at whatever was on the screen. He turned his attention away from Kirishima and he could hear Deku muttering to himself in the kitchen as he slowly added the espresso, the bitter coffee settling nicely atop the creamy milk. He added the signature caramel drizzle, and if he went a little heavy-handed on it, Kirishima would be none-the-wiser.

“Here you go, Shitty Hair,” he called out as he popped the lid on and slid it over the counter. He was met with Kirishima’s rumbling laughter as the other slid the phone into the pocket of the ridiculously oversized pants and grabbed the drink and a straw from the container perched on the counter. He had just poked the straw through the lid and stirred the drink when Izuku came bursting through the kitchen doors, panting.

“Here’s your order!” he cried, thrusting the to-go sack at him. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m looking at the Kirishima in the flesh! I’m such a huge fan!” His voice had raised a few octaves and he was bouncing in place. “How does it feel to be playing Red Riot? Man, you’re ripped—what is your workout routine? Oh! Do you know Ashido Mina? How long does it take to paint her skin for her role? Can you sign my apron?” Kirishima’s eyes widened in surprise from Izuku’s rapid-fire questioning before he let out another hearty laugh.

“I don’t mind giving you an autograph, but unless you guys have silver markers, it will be a little hard for me to sign your apron,” he said, motioning to the pure black garment. His face fell for a fraction of a second before he perked back up, leaned over the counter, and pressed down on the feed button on the receipt paper. He yanked it off and handed it to Kirishima, vibrating with excitement, and Katsuki swore to himself that he was going to kill the damn nerd.

“My name is Midoriya Izuku!” he practically shouted. Kirishima penned ‘Stay Manly, Izuku!’ and his signature on the slip of paper before handing the marker back to him and Katsuki was certain that Deku was going to pass out from excitement. “Oh my God—thank you so much!”

“Not a problem, man! Always happy to meet a fan. Gotta get going though; thanks for the food and drink!” His eyes connected with Katsuki’s for a brief moment as he waved at them, turning to leave the cafe, a grin on his face as he looked at his cup before he took a drink. The moment the door shut behind him, Katsuki rounded on Izuku, who was still standing in front of the counter with a starstruck look in his eyes as he clutched the autograph close to his chest.

“What the fuck was that, Deku?” he growled, knuckles white as he gripped the counter. “What did I specifically ask you not to do?!” Izuku jumped, head swinging over to look at Katsuki.

“I, uh, I’m sorry?” he squeaked out, shoving the paper into the pocket of his jeans while backing up slowly from the building wrath that was his roommate and best friend. Katsuki snarled, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Get your ass back in the kitchen, you goddamn fanboy.” Izuku nodded silently, eyes widened in fear, before darting back into the kitchen. Katsuki blew out an irritated huff, tossing the espresso cup into the sink with more force than was necessary. He cracked his textbook open, more than ready to erase that disaster from his memory.

The rest of the shift passed in a blur, Katsuki alternating between making orders, studying for his exam, and downing more espresso shots while Izuku continued to prepare the food in silence, which was exactly how Katsuki liked it. Before either of them knew it, they were locking the doors and turning the sign in the front from open to closed. Katsuki hoped that they would be able to finish up the closing procedures quickly, since he still had roughly three chapters of material to review. He was in the middle of sweeping up the lobby when Izuku approached him sheepishly.

“Hey Kacchan, can I ask a huge favor of you?” he asked, thumbs tapping together.

“What do you want?” he replied gruffly, knocking at a clump of dried mud with the broom while pointedly refusing to look at Deku. He was still pissed off at him for the whole autograph thing, after all.

“Well, um, would it be okay if you closed by yourself tonight?” At this, Katsuki’s face snapped up, glare prominent as he snarled at the other.

“And why in the hell would I need to do that?”

“Well, you see, Uraraka asked me to go to dinner with her tonight and I told her I would after work, so she said she would meet me at this cafe at 8, but if I stay and help close, then I won’t have enough time to get changed and get there on time,” he explained, hands waving frantically.

“And this is my problem why?”

“It isn’t, but it would mean a lot to me if you did this for me. I even pre-closed the kitchen for you, so there only should be the dishes from the line left to do.”

“So, you just assumed that I would agree to close for you?” Katsuki asked, eyebrow twitching slightly as he finally got the mud swept up. He wasn’t going to cave. This asshole made a fool of him earlier, so he was going to suffer.

“No! Well, yes? I was really hoping you would agree,” he muttered, shoulders sagging and lip jutting out in a small pout. Katsuki had to fight back a groan—of course Deku would do the puppy dog eyes pout to him. He thought after fifteen years of friendship he would be immune to it, but of course not. The damn nerd knew just how to get under his skin.

“You owe me big time, asshole,” Katsuki sighed and Izuku beamed.

“Really?? Oh my god, thank you Kacchan! You’re the best!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around Katsuki in a hug that was quickly shrugged off.

“Get out of here before I change my mind and make you close by yourself,” he growled and Izuku wasted no time, practically sprinting out the employee entrance in the back of the shop. Katsuki finished sweeping the lobby and fished his phone out of his pocket to check the time as he went behind the counter and groaned. At this rate, it would be at least an hour before he was done closing. Tack on thirty minutes to get home, then another thirty to make dinner, and he was looking at not being able to resume studying until at least nine o’clock. Great, it was looking like he was going to have to pull an all-nighter. Damn nerd. He poured himself one last shot of espresso, downed it, and set out to do the best damn solo-close that this shop had ever seen.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Katsuki sat at his desk with a smug sort of satisfaction as he cracked his textbook open at 8:45. The close went by quicker than he thought it would, partially thanks to Deku’s pre-close, so he was able to catch the earlier train home. After scarfing down a quick meal of yakisoba and an energy drink, he was ready and raring to go. He was going to murder this stats exam tomorrow.

He was a few paragraphs in when his eyes strayed to his phone. He unlocked it and was disappointed when he didn’t see a text or call notification on the screen. He knew he saw Kirishima smile at the cup, so he was certain that the actor got the message he left for him. So why hadn’t he called? Katsuki was certainly attractive enough with his cropped spikes that faded into an undercut, piercing red eyes, and gauged ears. It also helped that he was meticulous about keeping up his physique—his slim build made up for by lean muscle. He was a fucking catch, so why wasn’t the damn redhead messaging him?

‘Focus, Katsuki,’ he chided himself, shaking his head. He didn’t have time to deal with this bullshit. He turned his attention back to the text, jotting down necessary formulas on his cheat sheet that he was allowed. He spent the next hour working through the text and practice problems, his rage building each time he stopped to check his phone and found no notifications. He was about to chuck the damn thing across the room at his fourth look at it when it started to buzz, an unfamiliar number crossing the screen. Fucking finally.

“It’s about damn time you call me you...”

“Is this Bakugou?” a breathless, and very much feminine voice cut him off. What the...?

“Who the hell is this?” he growled out. Who gave this weirdo his name and number??

“It’s Uraraka.”

“Who? And how the hell did you get my number?”

“Oh my god—we work together! I’m the pastry girl. Ringing any bells?” Oh yeah—that sounded familiar. “There’s a sheet with everyone’s numbers in the breakroom.” He frowned; he didn’t like the thought of random extras from the cafe having his number. Deku having it was bad enough, but that was pretty unavoidable at this point. It clicked then: this was the girl that the nerd had a huge crush on.

“Okay, and you’re calling me why? Aren’t you on a date with Deku or some shit?” This call was starting to piss him off. He still had around two chapters of material to get through.

“About that… I need your help. He’s not, um, he’s not okay.”

“Not okay? What the fuck happened?” Visions of broken bones flashed to mind, which wasn’t too unbelievable, given how accident prone he was. He pushed away from his desk, grabbing his keys and wallet before heading to the living room.

“It’s hard to explain, but I need your help getting him home. Please, Bakugou?” she pleaded.

“Just text me your location. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said, shoving his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and hanging up before she could respond. His phone buzzed, the address and ‘I’ll explain when you’re here’ lighting up the screen. He shoved his shoes on and made his way to the train station. What the hell had his roommate gotten himself into now?

-----------------------------------------------------------

Thankfully, the address Pastry Girl had given him wasn’t too terribly far from their apartment; it was only a couple stops away from the station nearest to them. The building was pretty plain looking and one of the few detached ones in the neighborhood. An iron fence surrounded the small patio area, which was currently sectioned off. There were a few steps that led to the entrance. A gaudy yellow and black sign adorned the brick next to the door, announcing the cafe as Cool Beans in a curling script, which Katsuki instantly gagged at. There was a small menu board to the right of the door with bold lettering stating that Today’s SOUP-ER Special was Shiitake dashi. So Pastry Girl was as into puns as the nerd was, huh? He shot her a quick text letting her know that he was here.

The lights were dimmed as he entered the cafe, giving it a slightly romantic ambiance. There was a bar to the left of the entrance, which was positioned right by the door to the kitchen. To the right there was the seating area that was partially blocked off by a partitioned wall, the ivy cutouts not giving him much of a view of what was going on in the dining area.

“Can I help you, sir?” a soft-spoken voice asked and Katsuki blinked, turning away from his snooping to face the host desk. His eyes widened in surprise when he took in the freaking child sitting in a chair next to the counter. Her pale blue hair was tied into pigtails and her vibrant red eyes looked bored as she took him in. She was dressed in a white button-down shirt that was tucked into a grey, knee-length pleated skirt. Her legs were swinging back and forth as they dangled from the chair, the knee-high yellow stockings matching the bowtie around her neck. Polished black Mary-Janes completed the look, and Katsuki was so confused. There was no way that she could have been any older than ten. What the hell? Why was she working at a restaurant? He was about to respond when he felt something brush his leg, making him stiffen in surprise. He looked down and was wholly unprepared to see a tabby cat the color of sand rubbing against his leg, purring loudly.

“Why is there a cat in here?” he questioned, squatting down to rub the cat between its ears, earning him a loud chirp of delight. The girl cocked her head to the side, eyebrow arching as she looked at him.

“Because this is a cat cafe?” she said, gesturing to the sign behind her. Katsuki squinted, cursing that he forgot to put his glasses on, and was able to make out the smaller script below the cafe’s name that stated it was indeed a cat cafe. Another cat, this one with brown fur, came darting out of nowhere, jumping onto the host counter and rolling onto its back, stretching languidly. The girl reached over and rubbed the cat’s belly idly while still staring down at him, which was slightly unnerving, but he was still focused on what in the world was going on with Izuku. Was the nerd having an allergic reaction to the cats? He didn’t think Deku had any allergies, but he never had really seen his roommate around animals much. As he was standing up from his crouch, Uraraka rounded the corner, another sandy-colored cat nestled in her arms in a hug.

“Bakugou! Thank god you’re here!” she said, leaning down to release the cat, who meowed loudly in protest before trotting over to the host and jumping into her lap. The girl looked between the two of them before she shrugged, turning her attention to the two cats, a small smile on her face.

“Okay, spill it, Round Face. What in the hell is going on?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, glaring at her as two silvery-grey cats zoomed past him and jumped onto the window sill to stare and chatter at the birds gathered outside.

“Um, well, I think you should just see for yourself,” she stammered, blushing brightly, and motioned for him to follow her. He rolled his eyes but complied. They stepped into the dining area and to the right there was a small area full of toys, scratchers, and cat beds, one of which was occupied by an orangey-brown tortoiseshell who had a spot on its head that reminded him of one of the characters from a cartoon he and Deku used to watch when they were younger. He hissed in pain as he felt claws graze the side of his head and he looked up to see a sleek grey cat perched on the top of a cat tree to the left of the entrance staring down at him. Asshole. They continued further into the dining area before Pastry Girl stopped abruptly, causing Katsuki to run into her.

“This,” she sighed and motioned with her hand, “is what’s wrong.” Katsuki looked up from the ground, where he had been watching out for stray paws and tails, and was met with a scene that was as comical as it was horrifying. Izuku was seated at a table by the window, his face flushed a deep red as he was cuddling the biggest and fluffiest freaking cat Katsuki had ever seen. The white-and-black feline with a very unique pattern on its face was squirming in his grip, protesting loudly while the damn nerd was sobbing uncontrollably, pressing his face into the long fur. An employee, who was dressed similarly to the girl in front, was trying to pry the cat from his hands, exhaustion and exasperation written all over his very tired-looking face.

“God damn it, I don’t get paid enough for this bullshit,” the man grumbled to himself as the cat accidentally swiped at him. He pulled his hand back and hissed in pain as he checked the scratches, wiping the blood on his grey slacks before he ran his fingers through hair the color of purple hyacinths. The cat let out another angry cry and he dove back in, trying to wedge his hand between the cat and Deku.

“What the fuck is this?” Katsuki wheezed, trying his hardest not to laugh while side eyeing Uraraka. She sighed, dropping her head, her fingers toying nervously with the hem of her shirt.

“He’s been like this for the last half hour. When he got here, I could tell he was pretty nervous, and I mean, I was too, so I suggested that maybe we get a drink to take the edge off and relax us a bit.” The laughter that was threatening to escape Katsuki died instantly, a groan replacing it. Izuku and drinking was never a good mix.

“And then what happened?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“At first, it was all good. We were laughing and having a great time. I want to say it was by the time we had the fourth or fifth drink that things started going downhill. By this point, there were about four cats gathered at our table since we were the only ones here. One minute he was fine, petting the cats and laughing, and the next, he was crying.”

“Jesus, what the hell were you two drinking?” Katsuki was bewildered. Sure, Deku didn’t handle alcohol well, but he had never seen him like this after a few beers.

“He said he would have what I was having, so I ordered us some whiskey sours,” she admitted sheepishly. Fuck—of course it was hard liquor. After the blackout incident that was Izuku’s twentieth birthday, Katsuki was sure that the nerd had sworn off ever drinking anything harder than a beer. Guess he really was nervous.

“It was around the time I called you that he really started getting bad. Kept sobbing and saying that he shouldn’t have had the whiskey because now he was unable to protect all the kitties from harm.” Katsuki couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from him at that. That definitely sounded like something a drunk Deku would say.

“That one,” she said, gesturing to the cat that was still in Deku’s drunken clutches, despite the waiter’s best efforts, “was really concerned. Kept sniffing him in the face and licking his cheek, which caused him to cry more. Before I knew it, he had it wrapped up in his arms. The waiter saw, and now I think you’re up to speed on everything that happened.” There was a loud curse from the waiter as the cat clawed him again.

“As funny as this all is, why exactly do you need me to help?” Katsuki asked, watching the employee stomp off toward the kitchen, hands shoved in the pockets of his apron.

“Gee Bakugou, I wonder why,” she deadpanned, looking at him like he had grown another head. “He can barely stop crying, let alone stand. I have no idea where you two live, so clearly, I can’t get him home by myself. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Leave him here?” Katsuki suggested, which was met with a sharp glare from Uraraka. He sighed in defeat, rolling his eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll help. Let’s get this cat free first.” She nodded and they approached the drunken mess.

“Yo nerd, let the cat go,” Katsuki ordered, throwing himself into the chair next to Izuku, who looked up at him confused.

“Kacchan? What are you doin’ here?” he slurred, blinking slowly.

“Saving your sorry ass. You owe me big time. Now, let the damn cat go.”

“But… I can’t protect him if I can’t hold him!”

“That cat looks about two seconds away from shredding your face to hell. Just let him go,” Katsuki growled while Uraraka gently coaxed his hands from their death grip around the cat. The moment his hands were loosened enough, the cat wriggled free, jumping from the table to sprint away, nearly knocking over the waiter as he led an older, and equally tired-looking man, from the kitchen toward them.

“Well, I see you finally let him go,” the waiter spat, sending a seething glare at Deku while the older man sighed, dragging his hand down his face, his inky black hair slipping out of the messy bun.

“My employee here said this young man was harassing the animals,” he stated, the weariness more than evident in his voice.

“I’m sorry sir. It’s my fault—I shouldn’t have ordered so many drinks,” Round Face apologized with a small bow as Katsuki pulled Izuku to his feet, looping one arm under him to support his weight.

“Even so, you caused distress to my animals. This will not be tolerated. I’m going to have to ask that you leave and don’t return,” he stated sternly, crossing his arms as he glared at the trio.

“Yes sir. Once again, I am so sorry that this happened,” Uraraka apologized again, shoving a stack of bills into the waiter’s hands to cover the cost of their meal before slipping herself under Izuku’s other arm, the three of them awkwardly shuffling out of the cafe. Izuku burst into another round of sobs, apologizing profusely to the two of them.

“Have a good night,” the girl at the front counter called out after them, and Katsuki bit back a sarcastic insult. No point in pissing off the staff any more than Deku already had. The door shut with a resounding ‘thud’ behind them and they were met with the peaceful lull of the city, which was only interrupted by the sniffles and hiccups from Izuku as he continued to babble out apologies.

“I’ve got him,” Katsuki grunted, shifting Izuku’s weight so it was more on him than Uraraka. “If you want to leave, you’re more than welcome to.”

“I probably should get going,” she sighed, letting Izuku’s arm drop from her shoulders as she ducked away from him. “I have to be in at five to help Sato with the baking.”

“Do you need me to walk you home? Or at least to the train station?” Katsuki offered. He may be pissed off at them, sure, but he wasn’t a complete asshole.

“Bakugou? Being nice? Hell must have frozen over,” she laughed, and he glared at her. “Thanks for the offer, but I should be fine. I actually don’t live too far away from here. I hope you don’t have too hard of a time getting him home, though,” she frowned.

“Nah, it shouldn’t be a problem. I’m used to carrying this idiot around.” He checked his phone, relieved to see the next train still had about ten minutes before it would arrive. “You know, he really does like you,” Katsuki admitted as he pocketed the phone, noticing that Deku was snoring lightly. “He was so scared he was going to mess this up. Try not to hold this against him too much.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame for tonight as he is,” she smiled before leaning in to press a kiss against Izuku’s cheek. “Let him know I will talk to him tomorrow, will you?” she asked, pulling back, and Katsuki nodded. “Thanks again, Bakugou!” she waved awkwardly before leaving the two of them standing there.

“Come on, you idiot,” he grumbled, shaking Izuku awake as they set off toward the train station. It took longer than Katsuki anticipated, what with Deku tripping over his feet, but they made it just in time, slipping into the car. He checked the time after propping Deku against the window, groaning as he saw it was getting closer and closer to eleven. By the time they got home and Deku was situated into bed, it would be close to eleven-thirty. At this rate, Katsuki wasn’t going to get any sleep, which really pissed him off. He was hoping to avoid an all-nighter if at all possible. He checked his messages and saw one from Round Face, letting him know she made it home safely. His mood further soured when he saw that she was the only one who had texted him. Thankfully, their ride was a short one, and Katsuki all but pushed Deku out the doors once they opened.

“Where’s Ur’aka?” Izuku mumbled sleepily, still stumbling as they exited the platform.

“At home. Probably asleep. Now, get on my back, asshole. I’d like to get home before midnight,” he said. With that, he crouched in front of Izuku, who nodded, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Katsuki’s neck before jumping. Katsuki caught him, threading his arms under the idiot’s legs, and pulling them both up in a haphazard piggy-back ride. Katsuki was thankful that it was a relatively cool autumn night because Izuku was sweating up a storm against his back. Fuckin’ gross. He was pretty sure that the nerd had fallen asleep as they slowly made their way down the street, but to his horror, he heard the sobs start up again.

“Hey. Cut that shit out, you fucking cry baby.”

“But Kacchan, yer jus’ so great!” he wailed.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You’re just drunk. Come tomorrow you’re not gonna think I’m so great when I’m purposefully making loud noises.” Oh yeah, he totally was going to make the nerd’s life a living hell tomorrow.

“No! I mean it! I should do somethin’ nice fer you!” he shouted and Katsuki winced. Sure, his hearing wasn’t the best, but the idiot was practically yelling in his ear. “I know! I’ll introduce you to Kirishima!” he announced like it was the simplest solution ever before wiggling around, brandishing his phone like a weapon, fingers flying against the keyboard.

“Oi! Stop moving or I’ll fuckin’ drop your ass and leave you here!” Katsuki growled.

“Oh don’t be so mean, Kacchan! I’m trying to help you. Oh! Sent!”

“You idiot,” Bakugou finally decided after a deep, grounding breath. How was the nerd supposed to know that he was bitterly waiting for a response from said actor? “Just because you got his autograph today doesn’t mean you’re friends with him.”

“Whatever. You’ll see,” he huffed, leaning forward to rest his chin on Katsuki’s shoulder. The rest of the walk was spent in blessed silence, Izuku dozing off when they were about halfway there. They made it up to their apartment without any issues, though Katsuki did find it somewhat difficult to fish his keys out of his pocket with Deku’s deadweight leaning against him. Once they made it into the apartment, Bakugou unceremoniously dropped Izuku on his bed, a small ‘ooof’ leaving him as he collided with the mattress. He rolled to his side, green hair that escaped the ponytail at the base of his neck hanging loosely around his face as he muttered and drooled into the pillow. He was still in the jeans and plaid button down he wore to the cafe, and Katsuki utterly refused to change the idiot. He could suffer through a night of wearing uncomfortable clothes to bed, shoes included. Katsuki rolled his eyes and flicked the light off, slamming the door shut behind him.

He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing another energy drink from his stash in the cupboard as he checked his phone, ready to let Pastry Girl know they made it home safely when he saw both a missed call and an unread message from an unknown number. His heart thudded anxiously and with slightly shaking hands—which he definitely blamed on the caffeine—he opened the app. This was it; it had to be. Kirishima probably had just been busy all day. No big deal. He clicked on the unknown message as he took a big gulp of the energy drink to calm his nerves and choked as his eyes scanned the simple text of ‘is this Kacchan?’ Unfettered rage filled him as he saw the stupid nickname that Deku insisted on calling him staring back at him. He remembered the nerd’s drunken promise and saw red—this was probably one of his stupid friends doing the idiot a favor just to fuck with Katsuki.

‘I don’t know which one of Deku’s shitty friends this is, but fuck off,’ he furiously typed, hitting the send button aggressively as he stomped his way to his room. The read receipt popped up, as did the three dots signifying the other person typing. Katsuki downed the rest of the drink, crushing the can while opening the conversation settings and quickly tapped the ‘block number’ button, not wanting to see what the extra had to say. He chucked his phone on his bed and threw himself into the chair at his desk, burying his face in his hands and releasing a loud groan. He didn’t have time for this shit. He snagged his glasses off the desk and glanced at the alarm clock, noting that it was close to 11:45, and cracked his neck and back loudly before opening his textbook and settling in for a wonderfully unpleasant sleepless night. The last thing he decided on before letting the formulas and theories fill his head was that he’d just confront the actor about his stupid cup message the next time he saw him, if he saw him again.

#jaz writes #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kiribaku #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #long fic #chapter 2 #mocha choco latte #On the Rocks #also on ao3

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