she/her // 24 yo // poet, writer, game designer, wannabe skater // byproduct of 90's mtv folklore // tony hawk is my babygirl // give me give me your jackass fics requests!!
☆ share six of your favourite fictional crushes !!
characters → : KAI ANDERSON・ahs: cult | ADRIAN CHASE・peacemaker | PATRICK BATEMAN・american psycho | SUGURU GETO・jjk | NAOYA ZEN’IN・jjk | DOUMA・kny
i have nothing to say for myself. adrian is mad cute tho !!
🏷 thx for the tag @bohnerrific69 | no pressure my loves: @dollykimi. @cupidstrace. @telleroftime. @sugurusladyknightt. @blushhbambi. @illumoria. @strawb3rrystar. @dearlizzies + anyone who sees this and wants to join :)
characters; pete mcrieves, the long walk | natalie scatorccio, yellowjackets | dean winchester, supernatural | emma d'arcy (louis?), rhoda | jon snow, game of thrones | owen sharma, the haunting of bly manor
the most random selection ever but wtv i can't control who i find hot 😖
୧⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀ ֺ share six of your favourite fictional crushes
• thx for the tag, sweetheart !
CHARACTERS : 1. arthur morgan ( red dead redemption 2 ) / 2. joel miller ( the last of us hbo ) / 3. el pollo ( okupas ) / 4. michael ‘robby’ robinavitch ( the pitt ) / 5. art donaldson ( challengers ) / 6. clark kent ( superman 2025 )
➜ NO PRESSURE TAG : @vamparchve @morguesiren @reekoflife @luvdeuce @blasphemea (+ anyone who wants to join ! )
share six of your favourite fictional crushes . . .
1. russell hammond ( almost famous ) , 2. nicky nichols ( orange is the new black ) , 3. wade wilson ( deadpool ) , 4. arthur morgan ( red dead redemption 2 ) , 5. joel miller ( the last of us ) , 6. negan smith ( the walking dead )
thank u for tagging me ml!
no pressure tags; @bimbopilled @chayawaxman @deejayrockz @chaoticsofia @beyville ( + anyone who wants to join )
1. adriana la cerva (the sopranos) : 2. carol aird (carol) : 3. aya (ac: origins) : 4. old dolio (kajilionaire) : 5. dale cooper & audrey horne (twin peaks) : 6. jo march (little women)
my tags: @beyville (i know you've been tagged before, but i just wanted to mention you . .) ; @bayblonde ; @rotgutwhiskeygirl ; @princessglittergoree ; @mckiringoooo!! (no pressure ofc!!)
I loveeee your ehren headcannons!! Would you ever write more angsty hcs for the other Jackass guys? (I love your posts 🩷)
angsty headcanons - jackass cast edition!
johnny knoxville
— he never raises his voice at you. ever. that’s the thing that he was taught during his early years, so even if the tension reaches core-of-the-earth level, he won’t go above the normal conversation tone.
— when he’s worried or anxious during an argument, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he slides them through his hair or touches his face. it’s an involuntary reflex, sending you a clear signal that a lot of unspoken thoughts are going through his mind.
— he doesn’t like to argue while driving, so if you ever start to fight about something while sitting in the car, he will drive to the nearest stop to talk about it and be able to catch eye contact.
— he might seem careless and irresponsible sometimes, but this guy has a memory like one of the eldest elephants. if some guy around you gives him a weird feeling, he won’t forget his face, even if it happened a few years ago. he definitely won’t stop being vigilant about him, until he finally catches what’s wrong with him (this man has intuition for days).
chris pontius
— he’s not the type to dwell on arguments or past wrongs of other people. chris does his best to get his mind off of things that bring him down, although from time to time you try to help him face his problems in a more conscious, intentional way. there’s a long road in front of you two, but you have the motivation to take it.
— when he’s angry or upset, he has a habit of laughing nervously. he hates it, thinking that it makes him look unserious, but it’s one of the parts of him that you simply adore.
— you don’t argue very often, but when it finally happens, both of you spill everything out, reminiscing about every other little thing that happened between this fight and the last. it’s not the healthiest way to settle things, but they’re one of the few moments when he actually talks about what makes him hurt.
— when he’s stressed, he starts to fidget with anything that he gets his hands on. car keys, necklaces, phone chargers, even random pieces of string that he finds in his pocket – it’s all free game when he can’t calm his racing thoughts.
bam margera
— bam often feels guilty after starting a fight with you. he tries to make it up to you somehow, buying you a new piece of jewelry or a bottle of perfume that he thinks you might like. he says that it was just a gift without any particular occasion, but you just know that his guilt was eating him alive.
— he doesn’t do silent treatment – not that he didn’t try to do it in the past. now after a few hours of silence, his overthinking gets the best of him, and you get texts like are we ok? or hii:) dinner on me later? and sometimes it’s even the wanna come over and play tony hawk pro skater??
— sometimes when you argue, and he doesn’t know what to say, stumbling over his words, he’ll just look away, say man, you know what… with a defeated voice and sigh, thinking quickly about how not to fuck it up.
— this guy can get petty. and i mean mean girls level petty. when he’s angry at someone, he will definitely badmouth about them to you, sending you novel-length texts, detailing their every sin and fuckup, even if it’s something as small as looking at him funny while he was trying to do a new trick. no one has an ear for gossip like this man.
ryan dunn
— this man is like an open book. you can read his expressions and gestures like a message in familiar language. you always notice when he’s mad or worried about something, even if he tries to deny it – his face says it all.
— instead of anger, his initial response when fighting with you is sadness. he hates to argue with you, and ryan is self-aware enough to actually see his fault when you point it out to him, so all he can feel then is some depressing mixture of shame and sadness.
— he gesticulates a lot, especially when the chaos and anger gets him riled up. instead of throwing hands after hearing an insult, he just starts to gesticulate, underlining his every point, until he calms down a bit.
— he’s the kind of guy that replays his every argument in his head when he takes his evening shower, thinking about the best comeback he could spit out, daydreaming about going back in time and saying all the right things.
pairing:johnny knoxville x journalist!fem!reader
contains:unrequited flirting, oblivious reader, reader is kindaaaa autism coded.
word count:2,487
a/n:BIIIG credits to my lovely beautiful mootie @chayawaxman for this idea!! it is entirely hers and i fear i stole it (with permission of course) because it gave me sm motivation...
summary:johnny knoxville tries to flirt. the journalist just wants the scoop. it's the most high-stakes, one-sided date of his life.
The bar was dimly lit, all amber glow and cigarette smoke curling toward the ceiling like lazy ghosts. Johnny leaned against the worn wooden counter, nursing a beer that had gone lukewarm in his hand. He'd come here to unwind after another brutal day of filming, his ribs still ached from the shopping cart stunt they'd pulled that afternoon, and there was a fresh bruise blooming across his shoulder blade that he'd discover properly in the morning.
The MTV crew had wrapped for the day, and the rest of the guys had scattered to their respective corners of the city. Steve-O was probably causing mayhem somewhere. Bam had mentioned something about skating. Johnny had chosen the quiet refuge of this particular dive bar in Knoxville, his namesake city, though he'd never gotten tired of the coincidence, because nobody here gave a damn about some guy doing stupid stunts for a cable show.
He was wrong about the nobody-giving-a-damn part.
She walked in like she was on a mission, all business despite the late hour. Johnny noticed her immediately, not just because she was pretty, which she was, but because of the way she carried herself. Determined. Focused. She had a messenger bag slung across her body and she was scanning the room with sharp, analytical eyes, like she was looking for someone specific.
When those eyes landed on him, they lit up with recognition, and Johnny felt a small smile tug at his lips. This ought to be interesting.
She made a beeline for him, weaving between tables with purpose, and he straightened up slightly, setting his beer down on the bar. Up close, he could see the notepad peeking out of her bag, the pen clipped to her collar. Journalist, he thought. He'd gotten good at spotting them.
"Johnny Knoxville?" she asked, though it was clear she already knew the answer.
"That'd be me," he drawled, turning on the Southern charm without even thinking about it. "And you are?"
She introduced herself quickly, businesslike, extending a hand for him to shake. Her grip was firm, professional. "I'm here to interview you tomorrow," she continued, barely pausing for breath. "For the piece on Jackass. But since we're both here now, would you mind if we did it tonight instead? I know it's unorthodox, but I've got some questions prepared, and honestly, this might be better, more casual, more authentic."
Johnny blinked, then let out a low chuckle. He gestured to the empty barstool next to him. "Well, pull up a seat then. Can I buy you a drink first, at least?"
"Oh, um..." She hesitated for just a second, then nodded. "Sure. Thank you. Just a beer is fine."
She settled onto the stool, already digging into her bag for her notepad and recorder. Johnny caught the bartender's eye and ordered her a beer, watching with amusement as she set up her little mobile interview station right there at the bar. She was completely absorbed in her preparation, arranging her materials just so, clicking her pen a few times to make sure it worked.
"You always this dedicated?" he asked, leaning his elbow on the bar and angling his body toward her. "It's gotta be past ten."
"When you're passionate about your work, the hours don't really matter," she said, not looking up from her notepad. "Plus, I want to make sure I do this story justice. Jackass is really something different. Transgressive. Provocative. It's pushing boundaries in a way that's genuinely interesting from a cultural standpoint."
Johnny felt warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the beer. She got it. Or at least, she was trying to get it, which was more than most journalists did. "Well, I appreciate that," he said, his voice dropping a little lower, a little softer. "Most people just think we're a bunch of idiots hurting ourselves for laughs."
"Well" She finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and Johnny held her gaze, letting his smile deepen just a fraction. "Aren't you, though? At least a little bit?"
He laughed, genuinely delighted. "Oh, absolutely. But there's a method to the madness."
Her beer arrived and she thanked the bartender with an absent nod, immediately taking a sip before diving into her questions. Johnny answered them all, but he found himself more interested in watching her than in talking about himself. She had this way of concentrating that was almost endearing; her brow would furrow slightly when she was thinking, and she'd bite her lower lip when she was writing something down.
He leaned in a little closer as he talked, letting his knee brush against hers. She didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she didn't react. He tried again a few minutes later, catching her eye and holding it just a beat longer than necessary, adding a slight smile that he knew, from years of experience, usually made women a little flustered.
Nothing. She just smiled back politely and asked her next question.
"So tell me about the creative process," she was saying, pen poised over paper. "When you're coming up with these stunts, what's the collaboration like with the other guys?"
Johnny answered, but part of his brain was already recalibrating. Maybe she was just professional. Maybe she was playing it cool. He shifted tactics, letting his fingers brush against hers when he reached for a napkin. "Sorry," he murmured, low and warm.
"No problem," she said breezily, not missing a beat in her note-taking.
Huh.
He sat back, reassessing. This was new territory. Usually by this point in a conversation with an attractive woman, there'd be some kind of signal, a returned smile that lingered, a laugh that went on a little too long, a casual touch back. Something. But she was looking at him with the same earnest, focused expression she'd had since she sat down, waiting for him to continue his answer about the creative process.
"Right, so.. the collaboration," he said, finding his train of thought again. "It's pretty organic, actually. Someone will have a stupid idea, and then we all just kind of riff on it until it becomes an even stupider idea."
She laughed at that, a genuine, unguarded sound that made something in his chest do a weird little flip. But then she was immediately back to business. "And how do you decide who does which stunt? Is there a method to that, or is it more whoever volunteers?"
"Bit of both," Johnny said, watching her write. She had nice hands, he noticed. Slim fingers, short nails, a small callus on her middle finger from holding a pen. "Unless the stunt was made for a specific person, usually it's whoever's dumb enough to say 'I'll do it' first."
"And that's usually you?"
"More often than not, yeah."
"Why?"
The question caught him off guard. Not the question itself, but the way she asked it like she actually wanted to know, like she was genuinely curious about what made him tick. Most interviewers asked the surface-level stuff, the easy questions that made for good sound bites. But she was looking at him now, pen still, waiting.
"I guess..." He paused, considering. "I guess because if I'm gonna ask someone else to do something dangerous or painful or just plain humiliating, I should be willing to do it myself first. Seems only fair."
She nodded slowly, and he could see her processing that, filing it away. "That's actually pretty admirable."
"Don't let it get around," he said with a grin. "I've got a reputation to maintain."
Another smile of amusement from her, but still nothing that suggested she saw this as anything other than a professional interaction. Johnny found himself oddly charmed by it.
"Speaking of reputation," she said, flipping to a new page in her notebook, "there's been some criticism that the show glorifies reckless behaviour. How do you respond to that?"
He'd heard this one before, had a stock answer ready. But something about the way she asked it - not accusatory, just genuinely interested in his perspective - made him want to give her more than the usual line.
"Look, I'm not gonna sit here and pretend we're making educational television," he said. "But we're also not telling people to go out and copy what we do. We've got disclaimers, we've got professionals, we've got medical staff on standby. The whole point is that we're doing the stupid stuff so other people don't have to."
She was writing quickly now, her pen moving across the page in quick, efficient strokes. "So you see it as a kind of public service?"
He laughed. "I wouldn't go that far. But yeah, maybe in a weird way. We're like... crash test dummies for entertainment."
"That's a good quote," she said, underlining something in her notes.
"Feel free to use it," he said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms behind his head. The movement made his shirt ride up slightly, exposing a strip of stomach. It was a calculated move, one that had worked for him more times than he could count.
She glanced up briefly, then back down at her notebook. "What's the worst injury you've sustained on the show?"
Johnny let his arms drop, genuinely impressed. She was relentless. Focused. Completely immune to his usual tactics.
He was starting to really like her.
"Worst injury?" He rubbed his jaw, considering. "Probably the concussion from the shopping cart thing. Or maybe the time I broke three ribs doing the, actually, you know what, they're all pretty bad when you list them out like that."
"How many concussions total?" she asked, pen poised.
"Uh... diagnosed? Or suspected?"
Her eyebrows went up. "There's a difference?"
"There's definitely a difference," he said with a grin. "Diagnosed, maybe four? Five? Suspected... let's just say I've seen stars more times than I've seen some of my relatives."
She wrote that down, shaking her head slightly. Not in judgment, he noticed, but in what looked like genuine fascination. Like he was some kind of specimen she was studying.
"Does that worry you?" she asked. "Long-term?"
It was a good question. A real question. The kind most interviewers didn't bother asking because they were too busy trying to get him to talk about the gross-out stuff or the celebrity cameos.
"Yeah," he said honestly. "Sometimes. But then I think about what else I'd be doing, and..." He shrugged. "This is what I'm good at. Taking hits. Making people laugh. It's not rocket science, but it's mine, you know?"
She looked up at him then, really looked at him, and for a second he thought maybe she was finally seeing him as something other than just her interview subject. But then she nodded and wrote something else down, and the moment passed.
Over the next hour, Johnny tried just about everything in his admittedly limited playbook. He complimented her questions - "You're really good at this, you know that?" - and she'd beamed and said thank you but immediately followed up with another question about liability insurance. He'd told her a story that involved him shirtless, thinking maybe the visual would do something, but she'd just nodded thoughtfully and asked about the safety precautions they'd taken. He'd even done the thing where he'd leaned in close and dropped his voice to that lower register, the one that usually worked like a charm.
She'd asked him if he was tired.
It was baffling. It was also, somehow, incredibly endearing.
By the time she was wrapping up her questions, checking off items on her list with satisfied little pen strokes, Johnny had come to a conclusion: she genuinely had no idea he was flirting with her. This wasn't her playing hard to get. This wasn't her being professional to the point of coldness. She was just completely, utterly oblivious, so focused on her work that everything else, including him and his increasingly obvious attempts at charm, simply didn't register.
"This has been incredibly helpful," she said, clicking off her recorder and tucking it back into her bag with the careful precision of someone who'd lost too many small items in the past. "Thank you so much for being willing to do this on such short notice. I know you probably had plans tonight."
"My plans were sitting here drinking alone," Johnny said honestly, grinning. "So you definitely improved my evening."
"Oh, good!" She smiled at him, warm and genuine and still completely missing the subtext. "I'm so glad. This is really going to make for a great piece."
She started to gather her things, and Johnny realised with something almost like panic that she was about to leave. He wasn't ready for that yet. He was enjoying this, enjoying her, enjoying the challenge of it, enjoying the way she talked about his work like it mattered.
"Hey," he said, reaching out to gently touch her wrist. She paused, looking down at his hand and then back up at his face with polite curiosity. "You eaten dinner yet?"
She blinked. "Uh, no, actually. I came straight here from the airport."
"There's a diner a couple blocks from here that makes the best chicken and waffles you've ever had in your life," he said, pouring on the charm. "Let me take you. Consider it part of the interview, I'll tell you all about what it was like growing up here."
She considered this for a moment, and Johnny could practically see the gears turning in her head. "That would actually be great for the piece," she said finally. "Local boy makes good, returns to his roots, that's a strong angle."
Johnny laughed, shaking his head in disbelief even as he stood up and dropped some bills on the bar. "Yeah," he said, still smiling. "That's exactly what I was thinking."
She smiled back at him, bright and oblivious, and gathered her bag. As they headed for the door, Johnny let his hand rest on the small of her back, guiding her out into the cool Tennessee night. She didn't lean into the touch, didn't acknowledge it as anything other than politeness.
He was going to have to spell it out for her eventually, he realised. But for now, walking down the street beside her while she chattered enthusiastically about the cultural impact of MTV's programming choices, Johnny found he didn't mind the challenge one bit.
In fact, he was already looking forward to trying again over chicken and waffles.
the jackass fandom is unironically the kindest and least problematic community I've ever been in, which is a bit bizarre because what gets us together is the unexplainable love for grown ass men who drink their own piss and harm themselves for our personal amusement
tony hawk's twitter reads like an existential horror story about a guy who has been cursed to live the same day over and over, gradually sliding further and further into madness
— before you even leave the city, there’s a 90% chance that steve will have a paranoid monologue about forgetting to lock his door/leaving the gas on/not packing his id. you try to reason with him, but nothing works until you search his bag to find his documents and call a neighbor to check if his flat is not robbed/on fire
— he has an impressive collection of homemade mixtapes, which you can browse and pick from while he’s driving. you don’t exactly know what to expect from such enigmatic code words as DRIVE2, HELLYEAH!!, FUCK IT LET’S GO, or – his personal favorite – WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON, but you usually let the blind luck decide
— no time to lose, steve likes to drive like a mad man to spend more time with you on the spot. it used to make you feel like this might be the last drive of your life, but now you just hold on tight to your seatbelts, occasionally screaming through his music to calm the fuck down
— he doesn’t trust gps and google maps entirely, so you usually have to get a physical map on your knees and assure him that yes, the technological machines of destruction aren’t trying to get him lost in the woods (again)
— steve prefers when you’re the one who’s driving, he gets distracted too easily on longer routes (but also it helps that he can look at you from a passenger’s seat, sometimes commenting on how good and responsible driver you are – you know, in a tone that a driving coach or a policeman might use. it [pun not intended] drives you nuts sometimes, but for some reason he thinks it’s funny as hell)
— he likes to grab your hand (or your thigh) while he’s changing gears
— you definitely have to make at least one stop at some sort of fastfood drive-by! he likes to get a big serving of fries and a large soda for the road (it makes the touching-the-thigh thing more complicated, as you probable don’t want the greasy fingerprints on your legs, but do you know what the jeans were made for? exactly, for wiping your hands when needed)
ive been craving some ehren stories… maybe something angsty? Xx
lots of love 🦖
ehren mcghehey - (slightly) angsty headcanons!
— when he’s excited, he can’t hide his slightly mischievous smile. he’s also super talkative when he’s nervous, so it’s you who has to listen to him rambling about snowboard tricks when you’re waiting with him in the dentist’s office.
— he just can’t stand other people being condescending or rude towards you. ehren doesn’t shy away from pulling someone outside to set the record straight and remind them not to interrupt you or undermine your expertise.
— after a heated argument, he tends to distance himself from everything – he knows that he can say a few words too many when the emotions are high, so he prefers to avoid it.
— he’s usually the one who apologizes first after a fight. he can’t hold the grudge for too long – also he hates to see you upset.
— ehren’s not the best at hiding his emotions. when he’s mad about something, he tends to nervously tap his fingers on a table, desk, or a steering wheel. he also grinds his teeth when he falls asleep right after an argument, but don’t tell anyone!
— he has a couple of comfort movies that always help him survive his seasonal depression symptoms. out of all of them, he especially loves The Big Lebowski, Dumb and Dumber and Legally Blonde.
— ehren doesn’t feel comfortable discussing serious matters over text, so if you're arguing, he will drive up to your place to talk it out, until you feel that the matter is settled.
ladies and gents, once again i'm doing anything but studying and being a productive member of the society, which means that if you have any commissions, requests or fever dream scenarios for jackass fics, you know where to find me!!