#I was gonna use that old commission I'd done for them... but I think I might have it redone

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin 

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you. 

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it? 

Fuck me. This shit is highschool. 

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it. 

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now? 

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos. 

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy. 

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize. 

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy. 

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?” 

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning? 

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Tch. Omegas.” 

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?” 

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?” 

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?” 

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?” 

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not. 

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.” 

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually. 

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad. 

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck? 

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.” 

“Okay, cool. When's your next–” 

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.” 

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.” 

“M'not. Fuck you.” 

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?” 

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm. 

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. 

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today. 

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now. 

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!” 

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him. 

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?” 

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly. 

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention. 

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents. 

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy. 

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked. 

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?” 

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha. 

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?” 

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna. 

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.” 

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little. 

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons. 

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?” 

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.” 

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.” 

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise. 

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.” 

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit. 

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.” 

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore. 

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–” 

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.” 

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor. 

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features. 

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose. 

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?” 

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up. 

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.” 

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.” 

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.” 

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.” 

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–” 

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted. 

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes. 

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–” 

“I'll take you home.” 

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.” 

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature. 

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.” 

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh. 

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe. 

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why. 

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–” 

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?” 

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first. 

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control. 

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash. 

“Fucking–wait, just–” 

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door. 

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone. 

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him. 

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges. 

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?” 

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast. 

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.” 

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled. 

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.” 

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat. 

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.” 

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?” 

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.” 

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?” 

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.” 

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue. 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.” 

“Wow.” 

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door. 

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face. 

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad. 

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.” 

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away. 

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard. 

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.” 

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?” 

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?” 

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you. 

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–” 

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did). 

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really. 

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail. 

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else. 

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt). 

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry. 

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it. 

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.” 

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches. 

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath. 

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing. 

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink. 

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.” 

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire. 

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.” 

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.” 

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time. 

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though. 

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked. 

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?” 

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.” 

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?” 

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.” 

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.” 

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes. 

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. 

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it. 

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?” 

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly. 

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.” 

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go. 

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.” 

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that. 

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched. 

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?” 

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in. 

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more. 

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.” 

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide. 

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.” 

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest. 

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it. 

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun. 

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once. 

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey. 

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed. 

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.” 

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you. 

But maybe, maybe, you had a point. 

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up. 

“Ow. Gross.” 

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.” 

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst. 

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

[foone]

I think my brain has decided to dump mind control/hypnosis into the same bucket as fursonas and TF.

Specifically the one where it's like "this would be extremely interesting if you could do it, but you can't, so why bother with something that's only fantasy?"

Which is strange that it happens here. Like, there are definitely interests/kinks that are completely fantasy but I'm still into them, still enjoy reading about and seeing art of them. (I'm not gonna specify which ones because this is not a TMI Tuesday post)

But for some things my brain decides that I'm provisionally into it but only if it can be done for real. Like... Imagine someone who is into bondage but has zero interest in bondage porn/erotica, only in doing it for real... And then imagine they're someone who can't do any bondage for partner/disability reasons. That's where my brain is at.

I'm not sure if it's that I'm not interested enough in these things, or I'm too interested.

Like the former makes sense: if I was majorly into TF, I'd be into it even though it's impossible. The fantasy would be so erotic/interesting that I'd be all over it, even knowing I'm very unlikely to ever get slowly turned into a deergirl with antlers.

But the latter might be closer: I'm too into these things. My brain is like "omg this is the best idea ever! We need to do it now!!!" and then the disappointment at realizing it's impossible just sours me on the whole damn subject.

Like I can't get the motivation to design a fursona because it keeps reminding me that I can never be the cute cow. I don't want to have a fursona that's just a thing in pictures and stories, I want to have hooves and big horizontal ears and NOT BE A FUCKING HUMAN.

It's annoying because I think in all these cases it's something I could legitimately be interested in and get a lot of enjoyment out of! Like, furries are awesome! (and I am one, even without a fursona). They have lots of fun with their fursonas. I could commission art of my fursona using old computers! I could design keyboards for use with my hooves! It could be tons of fun.

And TF? Don't get me started. I am constantly saying I need to be less human. I theoretically love the idea of turning into something else. But nope. I can't enjoy it, maybe because I'm going "why isn't that me?"

And I've read some mind-control/hypnosis stuff recently and I'm having the exact same reaction. There some parts where I'm like "this has a lot of interesting ideas! Why can't I do this?" oh yeah because it doesn't exist. Damn it.

And that "damn it" emotion is when I close the story. So I can't really enjoy the parts of it I like, I'm too dissuaded by the disappointment.

I dunno if this is an autism thing. I've known some other people on the spectrum have similar issues with just deciding subjects are zero interest to them, after only a quick glance. I don't know if that's the same or a similar thing than I'm talking about.

(also, hypnotists? Don't come saying "but hypnosis is real!" to me. I know, but it's not real in the ways I'm interested in)

[raeygina-george]

All the questions you wanna anwser

(this is from an old ask game)

1. When did you start creating art?

erm idk.... 2019 or so?

2. Do you do art in any professional capacity? (Graphic design, commissions, animation, etc.)

not yet but im planning on being an art teacher

3. What are your favorite subjects to draw? (OCs, your fan faves, etc.)

anime characters..........

4. What's your least favorite part of the body to draw, if any?

hands or really any part of the body that's in perspective

5. What piece of art are you still proud of to this day? (Show or describe)

i'm not particularly proud of any of my pieces but here are some that i still really like :) (i also really like that one mari & sunny lily of the valley piece that i'm not attaching directly bc i don't wanna trigger tag)

6. Favorite and least favorite angles/perspectives to draw?

i don't really have any... what's easiest is just straight-on, but that looks boring, so I can't realistically say it's my favorite... but if it's hard then I don't like it either.... sigh

7. Who are some artists that have inspired you?

see okay the thing is. artists that inspire me seem to always have an art style that i Can't Really Replicate. like i've seen so many of those painterly-style ethereal anime girls and pieces with the most gorgeous fucking colors ive ever seen in my life and they look SO PRETTY but i just Don't Understand Them At All 😭😭

so i'd say rixypill because recently i saw one of their art pieces and the amount of relief it brought me was insane. it was a gorgeous gorgeous art piece AND it looked like something i could realistically achieve. i didn't even really realize it but for such a long time i was trying to turn my art style into Something Completely Different and idk it just made me realize that i could make beautiful art Without having it stop being My Art

8. How would you describe your art style?

pink (with guest appearances from purple, orange, yellow, and blue)

9. What's the longest you've ever suffered from artblock?

several months

10. How do you deal with art block?

i don't <3 (I do challenges with predetermined prompts, and you can add deadlines if that helps you)

11. Have you ever drawn a meme with your OCs or canon characters from a fictional media?

yeah, i think i've made mini-animatics for like 2 vines. i don't do enough art shitposting tho

12. Ever participated in a multi-artist collaboration (3 or more) such as a multi-animator project?

i mean i did like 2 meps when i didn't understand what the fuck I was doing but i don't think those can really be counted........ i've done like art telephones and 3-person art trades but nothing really outside of that

13. What kind of art do you personally not see the appeal of, and why?

i think all art has appeal if you look hard enough

14. Do you prefer to make fan content or original content?

fan content

15. Do you/have you participated in Artfight or art trades in general?

i've done artfight in the past but i don't think i'll do it again because i'm usually really busy in july and even if i'm not i really struggle with doing anything for artfight 💀 i've done a good amount of art trades tho and if any of mutuals are interested in art trading with me feel free to ask :D

16. What was something you used to struggle to draw with confidence/ease, but have now mastered?

i don't think i've mastered anything really 😭 but i'm definitely a lot better at eyeballing colors than when i first started!!

17. Your personal favorite works of art (not made by you) are...?

there are lots of really awesome works in this world that i really like and if i didn't list like 500 different artworks i wouldn't feel like i'd answered properly so im gonna sit this one out lol

18. Do you typically use filters on your art?

yeah, i use saturation filters + gradient maps + blending modes at the end of every piece

19. What's your biggest insecurity when it comes to your artwork?

i have so many 😭 i'm in the "i hate all my art" stage of improvement rn..... aside from that, i hate that a lot of my art is so boring.... like there's not a lot of interesting perspectives or actual Meaning... that's the main reason why i made ychallenge! i want to make pieces that invoke emotion & mean something to me and aren't just there to look pretty

20. What motivates/inspires you artistically? (topics, emotions, etc)

fandoms mostly! if i was doing solely originally art i'd make maybe like one thing a year

[oonajaeadira]

15 questions

Thank you for the tags, @mandoblowmybackout and @peachesandfiends

1. Are you named after anyone?

My paternal grandmother had two middle names. My sister got one and I got the other.

2. When was the last time you cried?

It was definitely because of a kindness on Tumblr. I won't say who.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Define "a lot."

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their overall vibe. I like to listen to my learned prejudices, see what kind of assumptions I inherently make based on their overall appearance and then eagerly wait for them to surprise me. (They almost always do. It's delightful.)

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue-grey. This will change depending on what color I'm wearing and what the sky is doing that day.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I love both. A lot.

8. Any special talents?

I can generally pick up an instrument and play something on it within a couple of minutes of messing around with it (I can read music but I'm better by ear). I have a good ear for dialects. There's a lot of odd skillz I've picked up because learning them for shows. I'm very very very good at always choosing the slowest line at the supermarket.

9. What are your hobbies?

Writing, reading, video games, movies, cross stitch / embroidery, learning new instruments, travel, paint by sticker, tarot study, collecting, felt craft, board games, online shopping.

10. Where were you born?

Minnesota!

11. Have any pets?

I have a 19 year old black lab mix named Tahja. We took her over from a neglectful family member and even through she's been with us for 7 years, she still kind of feels like a guest in the house that we're just kind of making comfortable in her last years. Which just. Keep. Going. I swear that old bat's gonna outlive us all.

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

My parents tried to get me into softball when I was young and I hated it. I was on the gymnastics and swim teams in junior high, but that was mainly because my childhood best friend did them and I wanted to keep up with her. I was a downhill skier for most of my childhood until I got into acting and then I didn't want to risk broken bones. Was on a curling team briefly in college but had to quit because of time restraints. Mostly I don't really like sports. I'd rather play games. Better with my brain than my reflexes.

13. How tall are you?

5'5"

14. Favorite subject in school?

Generally all the arts/music classes. My last quarter of college I just needed to add credits to keep my student loan, so I took an art history course on European Medieval and Renaissance painting. I loved that class and I think it informed a lot of my creative thinking more than any of my lit or drama courses. It was mainly just a lecture class and I looked forward to it every week; just 90 minutes of someone explaining motifs and techniques for paint mixing, about political climates and commission workshops, about religious subjects and heretical works.... Just 90 minutes of soaking in beautiful learning. I think about it all the time.

15. Dream job?

I mean. Actor on set with Pedro. Crush to the side, I would just love to watch him work. I would love to play off someone that committed.

.

I don't remember who all has done this, but I'm tagging: @writeforfandoms @grogusmum @insomniamamma @honestly-shite @something-tofightfor @stealyourblorbos @littlemisspascal @beecastle @feathersandfoxtails

[episomalvector]

📞

your muse’s contact photo in mine’s phone

your muse’s name in mine’s phone Pygmalion

your muse’s ringtone in mine’s phone "When I Am Laid In Earth (Dido’s Lament)”

how often our muses text Almost non-stop

what our muses normally text about They’re actually very meaningful and loving texts all the time. But that’s not something that anyone but them would be able to figure with the way that they talk. They’re also petty bitches and will make fun of any and everyone around them. Not that they need to text their snide remarks-- they say them all out loud.

our muses’ last few texts

[raendown]

I return from the dead with a fic that isn't even for the Naruto fandom and I don't really have an explanation for myself.

Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2317 Fandom: MCU Summary: Visiting Steve was always strange now that the guy was old and retired. Still, of all the things Sam expected out of today, witnessing a prime example of gay panic from the co-worker that's been mysteriously avoiding him was not one of them.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info under the header!

Honestly, the fact that Steve's house smelled like prunes was probably one of the funniest things that Sam had ever heard in his life. More than anything he would have loved to go back in time, to the days of reading about glorified heroes in history textbooks, and tell his fifteen year old self that Captain America, Steve Rogers, retired in a house that smelled like prunes. God, his best friend just had to throw himself in to being old the way he threw himself in to everything else.

"Is there a special reason for you visiting?" Steve's voice was more tremulous these days, less steady but no less warm. Just hearing him again after the shameful amount of weeks it had been since his last visit made Sam grin.

"Nah, just thought I'd pop in and see if you'd expired yet. Your birthday's coming up. Gonna be, what, three hundred? A thousand?"

Steve narrowed his eyes but there was fondness in them so it wasn't very scary even if he could probably still tackle Sam across the room if he wanted to. At this point it would hurt him too but he could do it. "You, young man, are-"

He looked chagrined at himself when Sam cut him off with a laugh.

"You shitting me? Did you really just call me young man? See if I ever let you live that down."

His friend grumbled but accepted the teasing as his due. That was just what he got for going back in time and doubling down on being so much older than his own best friends.

Since it had indeed been a little too long after they last saw each other there was quite a bit of catching up for them to do. Over cool glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies the two of them spent a pleasant couple of hours shooting the shit until Sam could almost forget the years that stretched between them now. It was jarring, sometimes, looking away from those clear blue eyes to realize all over again just how many wrinkles they were set in. Sometimes he hated it. Other times he could only smile to know that at least one of their ragtag bunch had found the peace they were looking for.

Eventually all that sweet tea went right to his bladder and Sam excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned he took in the sight of his friend all snug under one of the blankets his late wife had knit and sighed, feeling maudlin suddenly for no good reason.

"I should probably get out of your hair," he said. "Let you get in your afternoon nap or whatever. No, stay there man, I'll clean up." His smile was easy as he snagged the dishes from their grazing and hauled it all over to the kitchen.

"You sure?" Steve's voice floated after him. "Nothing else you want to get off your chest?"

"Huh?"

Sam frowned at the cups he'd just placed in the sink, running back through his mind. They'd talked about pretty much everything he could think of.

"You didn't mention Buck once, you know. I thought the two of you were friends now."

"Ah. Yeah. So did I." The corners of his mouth twisted with a little bitterness, a little confusion. After everything they'd been through and the number of times Bucky had accepted his invitations down to Delacroix he'd thought they were well past the point of calling themselves friends. Maybe he himself felt something a little more than that but he knew better than to push.

That was probably why Bucky's sudden radio silence hurt so much though.

"Trouble in paradise?" Steve called from the other room and Sam snorted.

“Shit, I don’t know. One minute we’re fine and the next he just up and disappears on me again. I may or may not have checked a bunch of obituaries for your name just in case because I have no idea what I might have done to piss him off.” Sam pursed his lips. He’s already gone over all this with Sarah a half dozen times and in all the recounts he’d done of their last couple missions he still couldn’t find any particularly bad moment between him and his best friend. Unfortunately the sweet tea he was glaring at didn’t have any answers either so he snatched the pitcher up and moved to put it in the fridge.

“Have you tried, oh I don’t know, asking him what’s wrong?”

“You think I didn’t try that?”

Steve’s hum drifted down the hallway with a distinct note of sass. “Neither one of you is very famous for your communication.”

“Excuse you, I was a counselor. A certified veteran’s counselor. Communicating with people was literally my job until your overly buff ass came running around all ‘on your left’ and ‘everyone I know is trying to kill me’.” Sam huffed as he snapped the fridge closed. “I damn well tried to talk to him but he’s not answering my texts or my calls. Short of breaking in to his apartment I don’t really know what else you want me to do.”

Without any other excuses to keep him in the kitchen Sam heaved a sigh, knowing he couldn’t dawdle any longer. He could only get to the door by going though the living room so his choices were either run away out the back, which he would never ever hear the end of, or go back in to the living room and face Steve with his stupidly wise and knowing eyes. Seriously, let a guy live to almost two hundred and suddenly he thought he knew everything. Annoying was what it was.

He was only halfway down the hall when he heard the front door open. Sam very carefully swallowed down the jibe he’d just been about to deliver and hoped that meant what he thought it meant. Maybe Steve had finally gone vague after all and bailed in the middle of their conversation; he’d rather chase a crazy old coot down the street than talk about his feelings regarding one James Buchanan Barnes. Actually if he looked at it from the right angle then chasing an old coot down the street was pretty much his job description whenever he and his partner teamed up on missions. Sam was just glad they hadn’t been called in to one since this whole silent treatment had started because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know whether or not Bucky would still have his back even when the guy was mad at him over reasons unknown.

Two more steps and Sam froze in his tracks, eyes wide with disbelief. Bucky’s shoulders were hunched in to himself with something bridling on panic as he fit himself through the front door and kicked it shut behind himself, eyes wild and fixed on the ground between his feet, nervous energy pouring out of him in a way Sam hadn’t seen before. From his spot on the couch Steve watched his childhood friend let himself in with serene indifference.

“Didn’t know you’d be over today,” was all he said. Then he smiled benignly when Bucky let out a soft whine.

“Help,” Bucky pleaded. “I’m dying.”

Then Bucky slid down to his knees and face planted in the carpet, arms and legs splaying out wide. Steve hummed.

“You know,” he murmured, “no one ever believes me when I tell them you’re this dramatic.”

“Steve! I’m having a crisis!”

“I tell everyone you’re a drama queen and they just shake their heads at me.”

“This is important! You have to kill me, Steve. Or I’m gonna just- just-!” Bucky’s voice petered out with another extended whine muffled by the carpet that probably didn’t smell any better from that close up.

Crossing one leg over the other, Steve folded his hands in his lap with a great lack of concern for the ridiculous scene playing out before him. Sam remained frozen in the hallway, wondering if Bucky even realized he was there, but he got an answer to that almost faster than if he’d bothered to ask himself.

“What’s wrong, pal?”

“It’s Sam!” Bucky cried. His arms lifted up like wings to flail briefly before falling back to the floor in a boneless sprawl. “Please just crush my head or something. I can’t take this.”

“Ah, yes, I hear you’ve been avoiding him.”

Whatever kind of noise Bucky was trying to make, it came out sounding more like he was choking on carpet fumes. “Of course I’m avoiding him!”

“Now why on earth would you do that?”

“I want to stick my tongue in the gap between his teeth!” Bucky said, entirely unaware of the sparks that were suddenly running up Sam’s spine in the hallway. “Help me, Steve! I want to press my thumb in the little dimple on his back. He has a dimple on his back! Why!? Steve I want to hold his hand! What the fuck!”

Steve had both eyebrows up near his hairline and the most shit eating grin any human on the planet had ever worn when he turned his head to look at Sam. Frozen with his eyes on the figure currently panicking in to the floor, Sam paid him no attention. He was busy processing. After getting to know Bucky, inviting him to stay in Delacroix time and time again, the dramatics weren’t actually that much of a surprise. Obviously as they grew closer he’d gotten a number of glimpses in to who the real Bucky Barnes was under the grouchy veneer he presented to the world. Watching him starfish on the ground and whine wasn’t too far from what he’d already seen.

Hearing him say anything about his tongue in conjecture with Sam’s teeth, on the other hand, now that was a bit unexpected. More than a bit.

“I think Shuri called this ‘gay panic’ and honestly I’m in agreement,” Bucky went on mindlessly. “If I have to watch him go through one more workout and not grab his ass with both hands then I’m just going to rip both of them off. Who needs hands if I cannot grab Sam Wilson’s ass with them!?”

“You may be slightly exaggerating the situation, I feel,” Steve told him.

Bucky snorted. “I am not. I absolutely am not. Why is he so hot? And nice? I hate that. Except I don’t. Steve why is he so nice to me?”

“That might be a question you should ask him.”

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ve got lots of questions for him! Hey Sam, why are you nice to me? Hey Sam, can I lick your cheekbones? Hey Sam, how big is your cock?”

“Well. Not that I’ve ever thought to ask that myself but, alright. Go on, Sam, how big is it?”

Sam had just enough time to cross his arms over his chest and assume a very casual pose leaning against the wall beside him before Bucky’s head shot up off the carpet. If possible, his eyes were even more wild than before when he fixed them on Steve, full of the deepest betrayal. Then he very slowly dragged them sideways to see the man he’d just been panicking over. Sam gave him a very friendly smile.

“Depends on your frame of reference,” he admitted. “I’d say sizeable.”

“Nnnggggg.”

“Hi Buck.”

“Ggnnn.”

While Steve very poorly disguised a laugh behind one hand, Sam pushed off from the wall and sauntered further in to the living room. Bucky slammed his face back in to the carpet.

“Leave me here to die,” he pleaded in a very small voice. Sam tutted, reaching for the front door, only looking over his shoulder once he was halfway through it.

“Come on, Buck, can’t lick my cheekbones if you don’t get off the floor. It was a nice visit, Steve, but don’t be looking out your front curtains for a bit. I think I’ll let Bucky decide for himself what sizeable means.” He thanked god for the mercy of Steve’s house being situated out here so far from any other homes, surrounded on all sides by enough trees that you couldn’t see it from the road. A gorgeous little island of privacy. Sam was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one grateful for this, judging by the mad scrambling noises he could hear going on behind him.

Bucky’s voice garbled out something that sounded like ‘fuck you, thank you, bye forever’ and then Sam was listening to the slam of the front door barely a second before strong hands were wrapping themselves around his hips. He laughed even as Bucky’s face came in to view.

“Greatest assassin of several generations and you didn't notice my truck in the driveway?” he said.

“I may have been a bit distracted.” That was definitely a pout on Bucky’s lips.

“By being so hot for all of this”-Sam gestured vaguely down his own body-“that you literally ceased being able to function.”

He didn’t expect such easy agreement as the sheepish nod that followed his words. “Pretty much.”

Sam blinked slowly once, twice. For one long moment he considered teasing the man. Then he decided that their time was much better spent doing things they’d both obviously been wanting to do while assuming they would never get the chance.

“I was promised a tongue in my teeth. Are you gonna get to that any time soon or am I gonna sit here and pine some more for something I apparently could have had all along?”

Bucky keened piteously. Then he surged forward to follow through on his own promises and Sam really hoped that Steve had taken his words to heart about the curtains. The man was way too old to be seeing all the ways they were about to defile the side of this truck.

[alonelysimp]

dango!!! i don’t even remembering seeing anything about your oc until your reblog a few hours ago 🥺 could i ask; a, h and l for this mysterious character?

I.. I never talk abt them !! I think at best I mentioned them in passing !! there's two of them, both unnamed because that shit hard ;; so they have placeholders for now !! I should make a formal post introducing them eventually...

Ask game

For context, Ash is a traveller from Mondstadt. He's... for lack of a better term, a foxboy. He's (somewhat) modelled after a fennec fox, but with the colour scheme of a fox from Dragonspine, which he should really change bc that's not gonna camouflage him anywhere else :/ Oh, also he's a cryo allogene and knows a bit abt alchemy.

Tortilla is a god that lives in Watatsumi, most commonly found around the Sangonomiya shrine. They were a joke, but alas, here we are. Technically their name is Seiran, but they haven't used that since they started living as a human Zhongli-style. Oh also they're Orobashi's very much alive lover (in comparison to Orobashi, the very much dead snake god), so they're the snakekisser here not me !! (the name Tortilla is in reference to the hurricane tortilla vine btw, I have no idea what their name is nor their pronouns <3)

A. Affection: How does your OC express affection to the people they love?

I'd like to think Ash leaves small trinkets on your doorstep. Ranging from like actual usable things in a neat little box, to bones. Just bones, no box or anything. Perhaps he's really a crow and not a fox. Other than that, his love language is quality time. Which is. Ironic. With him being a traveller and all and is barely home. He loves doing literally anything as long as you're there with him.

Tortilla will run around and do errands for you. Definitely an acts of service person. Their area of expertise is more in commissions, but shopping, cooking (it's usually edible), it's already done <3 They don't have the *best* relationship with cleaning. In their mind, as long as they know where everything is, there's no need to clean? Just don't let it get too bad, they still pick up after themself. Oh speaking of that, they're also really good at finding lost items. Their record for the longest time was about 76 hours, the item was overseas and in Liyue already. The average is around 2 hours though :)

H. Help: When someone your OC loves has a problem, how does your OC try to help them? Do they prefer to comfort, offer advice, or fix the problem? Would your OC go out of their way to help a stranger?

After hearing about it, Ash's first instinct is to work out ways to resolve the issue. He's really... really awkward with comfort. Maybe a hug if you ask for one? But it won't be the first thing coming to his mind. I mean, most of his lore in Dragonspine is him saving people from hypothermia. He has a soft spot for children tho... a good portion of his paycheck from the guild goes to them. He helps Anthony with the medical bills bc Mond's healthcare is like, just as bad as America :)

It depends on how close you are to Tortilla, but if they're your first choice, then I'd assume you to be fairly close. Lowkey outcast of Sangonomiya shrine even though they watched it get built things yk :/ Anyways expect a hug first thing (unless you're really mad abt it then they won't get in the way of that or if you don't want one), and maybe a few comforting words. Overall far better than Ash, but they're still a bit rusty at it ;; They would go out of their way to help someone, as long as it doesn't cause them too much trouble. Now, this *has* gotten them into a bit of a tough spot a few times, but they are a god after all. It may be old and rusty, but power still remains in their form.

L. Loyalty: Is your OC more loyal to their family, their friends, or a mix of both? Why?

...Well I mean.... oh dear this is awkward.. to put it bluntly, Ash was orphaned at 8. He grew up with Bennett and the Adventurer's Guild until he was able to join the Guild himself. Found family... !! He has a few friends outside of whatever family he has currently, namely Lyney, Lynette, Zhongli, kinda Tartaglia, Xingqiu, kinda Chongyun (by association), somewhat Bito (Curse's OC), I mean Albedo too I suppose.... yeah thats about it. His family currently consists of Bennett, the Guild, and Sucrose. I mean I wouldn't say he's besties with anyone but Lyney, Lynette, and Xingqiu? A pretty even split, but would choose his family probably? I mean he also had a pretty good relationship with his biological family if that counts.

Again, Tortilla doesn't have a family !! They're dead !! No found family here this time so friends ig? Mostly the Sangonomiya clan, the resistance. They're vaguely acquainted with people from Narukami. They left Inazuma once, just to see what Teyvat had become since the Archon War. A nervewracking experience, to say the least. Especially because one of the gods might recognize them. They did meet one person they got along with quite well, but it's been hundreds of years since.

[comicalsansa]

Tumblr. Let's talk.

What. The. Fuck.

This is an ad you keep showing me. I know that you have a thing for nonsensical ads but come on, this is not even how ads work.

You've cut text off on the side. "More in d morning?" I guess that actually makes sense reading it like that, but based on kerning there's more word there-you don't put a letter that close to the edge, and it's inconsistent with the rest.

Moving onto the content. Biscuits and gravy. Okay, you know I got problem here, the text on this portion looks great, nice font choice, and I gotta say, these biscuits and gravy look fantastic. Like, I'm not a huge fan, but I'm vaguely southern. I will say, we're gonna need more gravy if we give these to my husband, tho.

THAT SAID

Where do I get these biscuits and gravy? Like, who paid you for this ad? I mean, it's not like there's a biscuits & gravy commission overseeing these thing.

I keep thinking of examples to show how ridiculous this is except my first three are all more successful because they actually included the name of a business entity. Like the old beef ads, which were paid for by the American cattleman's association (I think, something like that). Or peaches, paid for by the state of Georgia. I dunno if potatoes has been done, but I feel like it has to have been because I think of Idaho. That is three even simpler and more vague ad campaigns that were successful because I still remember the sponsor.

Whose biscuits and gravy are you selling here? McDonald's? I dunno, I don't think they use that font and I don't see them wanting the Tumblr market. Bigger fish. Bob Evan's or cracker barrel? Too modern. Dairy Queen? I'll give you a maybe. Honestly, I could see this being a badly cropped promotional sign from DQ, and they do make pretty good biscuits and gravy, even if they're stingy with the gravy (according to my husband). Or are these some sort of store brand from the freezer section? We will never know.

A successful advertisement creates three things to drive consumers to a business:

1) it creates a need. In this case, biscuits and gravy.

2) it provides a solution. Obviously, since I now need biscuits and gravy, I should get some.

And, most importantly,

3) it tells the name of the business or service provider who can give you that solution.

If it does not do #3 there, it is an absolute failure, as the entire point of advertising is to sell your product and/or drive customers to your business.

This ad may not be "I'd hit that" Mc nuggets bad, but it's still an abstract failure, and I only ever had one semester of marketing.

[breeeliss]

I'd just like to say: Chloe coming into the Dupain-Cheng bakery specifically when Marinette's on cash register duty and asks the names of pastries she already knows but just wants to hear Marinette talk, and eventually Marinette catches on but does nothing because she enjoys talking to Chloe

………………………

….goddammit

Words: 1968

Sabine smirked as she pulled a tray of croissants from the oven. “Marinette. I think your favorite customer is here.”

Marinette finished tying her apron behind her back and was pulling her hair up and away from her face as she got ready for her register shift. “Who now?”

Sabine jutted her chin towards the front of the bakery and Marinette followed her gaze, allowing herself a sigh and a small smirk when she saw who was meandering near the counter. “Stop teasing, maman.”

“It’s not teasing,” Sabine said. “She comes only on the days when you’re working and seems rather enchanted with all of our palmier flavors. Moreso than anyone else I’ve ever seen…”

“Oh hush, maman!” Marinette blushed, gently tapping her mother’s shoulder. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Don’t keep the poor thing waiting,” Sabine smiled as she carried the croissants to the counters in the back. “She must be eager to see you if she came right when your shift started.”

Marinette puffed her cheeks out and headed to the counter where Chloe Bourgeois was waiting, leaving her mother laughing and grinning behind her. 

It started when Chloe had to come into the bakery to order a huge commission of mini-cupcakes for a dinner she and her father were holding. Because Chloe loved being difficult, Marinette had to take out all of their sample books, explain all of their flavors, all of their frostings, all of their fillings, and all of their options for garnishes for close to twenty-five minutes before Chloe was satisfied. Marinette thought Chloe was making her explain herself so much for the sake of being annoying until she came in the next day asking for detailed descriptions of all the chocolate cakes they had on display for no other reason aside from her being “curious about your selection of dark chocolates.” Marinette’s father was too close by at the time for her to tell Chloe to buzz off, so she humored her for twenty minutes before Chloe settled with just buying a regular old palmier and left without buying a single cake. 

It was maddening, and for the next couple of weeks Chloe would come into the bakery when Marinette was working and ask her to rattle off all that she knew about their pastries, breads, cakes, rush orders, and catering plans….only to leave without having bought anything she had shown such a deep interest in. 

It was ridiculous to think Chloe had a passion for baked goods, otherwise she’d bother her parents about this. It wasn’t as if Chloe was using this as an opportunity to make fun of Marinette seeing how she was oddly quiet and attentive whenever Marinette spoke. It wasn’t until last week that Marinette had finally picked up on the obvious. 

Chloe came just to hear Marinette talk. 

By all accounts it made no sense at first, but by now Marinette was convinced. When Chloe thought that Marinette wasn’t looking, she’d cradle her cheek in her hand, smile gently, and seem to daydream through Marinette’s explanations, only to be abruptly pulled out of the mood when Marinette teasingly stopped in the middle of her sentences to catch Chloe in the act. Marinette wasn’t quite sure what to think of it all – what was so interesting about her talking anyway? – but it was one of the few moments where Chloe wasn’t opening her mouth to be annoying, and Marinette rather liked talking to Chloe when she had nothing irritating to shoot back. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Marinette greeted, pulling her baby hairs behind her ears. “Just hopped onto my shift.”

Chloe sniffed and lifted her chin. “Well, at least you apologized.”

Marinette snorted and leaned her elbows on the counter. “What can I help you with?”

Chloe drummed her manicured nails on the countertop and pointed to the glass cases on the opposite wall. “I was….interested in hearing what macaron flavors you had available. I might be interested in making an order…” 

Marinette smirked, looked up at the ceiling, and counted in her head. “We have around…..oh, I’d say fifteen to choose from. Is there a particular flavor you like? We can start from there.”

Chloe shrugged. “Well, it’ll honestly be better if you just told me all of them so I can objectively pick the best one. I trust my own judgement over yours.”

“All of them?” Marinette clarified. “That might take a while. I wouldn’t want to waste your time…”

Chloe crossed her arms. “Well, I’m the customer, aren’t I? If I request something, aren’t you supposed to do what I say?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright. Come to the display cases, I’ll go through all the flavors with you.”

She started rattling off all the macaron flavors they offered off the top of her head, making sure to really go overboard and go into detail about the textures of the different pastries. She wasn’t sure if Chloe was absorbing any of this, but boy was she listening. It was so strange to see a girl who was so normally happy to make a snippy comment at her during school literally hang off her every word in a setting like this with no one but the two of them around. It was…oddly sweet. And definitely fascinating. That kind of fascinating that made you want to push things further or read into things more just because you’re curious to see where things go. 

Marinette wondered if she could push Chloe just a little bit. 

It took close to fifteen minutes to get through it all – Chloe kept interrupting her and asking her to repeat almost everything, something Marinette found amusing and was more than happy to do – but Marinette finally took a big breath and turned to Chloe. 

“So. Anything you’d be interested in getting?”

Chloe bit her lip, stared at the display cases, and looked down at her phone. “Um…a-actually I changed my mind, I don’t think I’ll take any today. Was just curious is all.”

Yup. Same thing she did every other time she came here. But Marinette wasn’t going to let her leave just yet. “Are you sure? I can give you a small order of ones I think you’d like. Free of charge!”

Chloe blinked. “What? Why?”

“My treat,” Marinette shrugged, pulling out serving gloves from her apron and slipping one onto her right hand. “If you want, I can pick a flavor that I think you’d like.”

“You seriously don’t have to do that,” Chloe insisted, eyeing the door. “I’ve gotta go anyway.”

Marinette reached out, grabbed Chloe’s elbow, and noted with interest how Chloe seemed to straighten up suddenly at the touch. “Relax,” she chuckled. “It’s on the house, I promise. Just take it. Now do you have a preference?”

Chloe rubbed the back of her neck. “Not really….”

Marinette hummed and turned to the display cases. “I think you’d like the milk and honey ones. Sort of remember you saying you loved honey at one point.”

Chloe snorted. “And you say you never pay attention to a word I say.”

“I don’t pay attention to you when you don’t have anything worth listening to,” Marinette teased, laughing at the sight of Chloe’s nose scrunching up in anger. “But when it’s important? I’m probably paying attention…”

“You’re more annoying than you realize, you know that?”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

Chloe stayed quiet when Marinette packed up a small box of six milk and honey macarons and tied off the top with string, not bothering to ring up the price (she’d take it out of her allowance later). “There you go,” Marinette smiled. “You’re all set. Let me know what you think of them, okay? I can ask Papa to make more tomorrow.”

Chloe furrowed her brows, looking genuinely confused. “Why?”

“You’re a loyal customer,” Marinette shrugged. “You come in all the time, it’d be rude of me to not offer you complementary sweets. Customer’s always right, and all that.”

“Well,” Chloe decided, “I guess you can count me impressed that you’d actually go through the effort. Didn’t think customer service was your thing.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Marinette winked. “Just come back if you ever want something else. Or if you want me to run through the menu….again.”

Chloe took the box from Marinette and she held herself back from laughing in pure delight at the sight of Chloe’s ears going red. “S-Shut up! I like to stay an informed shopper! Sue me!”

Marinette held up both her hands. “Okay, okay. No harm done. I’m happy to do it. Not all the time you get customers who are so curious.”

Chloe looked off to the side, refusing to look Marinette in the face. “Well. Thanks. I guess.”

“Hope you enjoy those!” Marinette said as she walked back behind the counter to double check the cash in the register. “There are always fourteen more flavors for you to try if you don’t like them.”

“Helpful as ever, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe snorted. She backed up against the door and pushed it open with an elbow. “I….guess I’ll see you around.”

“Come back soon,” Marinette waved. 

Marinette waited a few beats for Chloe to walk down the other end of the block before she pulled her phone out of her apron and dialed Alya. 

“Hey!” Marinette greeted when she picked up. “Random question. Do you still have Chloe’s number from that time you two were paired up for a history presentation?”

“Um, yeah?” Alya answered. “Why do you need Chloe’s number though?”

“Nothing important,” Marinette promised. “Just testing out a theory…”

By the time Chloe got home with her order of macarons – the order that Marinette gave her totally for free without any prompting and with a stunning smile on her face and oh my God – she felt her phone buzz in her pocket and saw a text from an unsaved number. 

When she unlocked her phone, she felt her heart hiccup into her throat. 

unknown: hey it’s marinette! im gonna call you in a sec, but let it go to voicemail ok?

“What is that weirdo doing?” Chloe squinted, trying to remember if there was anyway that Marinette could’ve possible gotten her number. Then again, the day was already weird enough as it is with Marinette being so nice to her today that it wouldn’t hurt to play along. She saved Marinette’s contact, declined her incoming phone call, and waited for the notification of a new voicemail to flash onto her screen. 

Chloe frowned, selected the voicemail, and held it up to her ear. 

Hey Chloe! It’s Marinette. I know this is kind of weird leaving you a message like this, but something tells me that you’d rather me talk to you than text you. Just so you know, you don’t have to come to the bakery all the time to talk to me. You have my number now. Feel free to call anytime if you want to just chat. Or, you know, if you want me to run through step-by-step on how to bake a croissant. I’m happy to do that too! Anyway, uh…hope you liked the macarons! Maybe next time I can bake some for you myself. See you in class!

The voicemail ended, and Chloe felt all the heat in her body flowing straight to her cheeks. She sunk down on her bed, buried her face into one of her pillows, and screamed out of embarrassment, shock, excitement and about four other sensations she couldn’t be bothered to tease out at the moment. 

Chloe turned back to her phone and made sure to save the voicemail. 

She was pretty sure she was going to be playing it back a lot this week. 

[silvacentric-archive]

so, idk, i need to write a thing, why i remade, what's goin on with me, yadda yadda

long read, but i'd appreciate if friends in particular would read it, but anyone's welcome.

okay so like. we all know i have a fucky home situation. my mom is extremely controlling, i dropped out of high school and am without a GED, lol @ college.

the problem was, i sorta...gave up on trying to get out, along with my lifelong fear/reluctance to grow up. I stopped fighting my mental health issues, let them take over while complaining about them. i developed a really lazy We're All Gonna Die So I Might As Well Ignore Responsibilities And Have Fun At All Times.

i stopped putting effort into my closest, oldest friendships, too, making excuses left and right about it being harder because we're older, but not trying and just talking to friends that were easier to get ahold of. hell i even stood up one friend repeatedly, mostly on accident but i still could have tried harder to remember.

then??? jesus christ i got involved in fandom shit again. like, yes, marginalized fans deserve better treatment from both fellow fans and the franchises themselves, but what is me arguing with 14 yos on others' posts gonna accomplish? what the fuck was i thinking. good god i'm 23 years old, not 15.

but all this, i was -- am -- acting exactly like the kind of people i can't STAND online? people who do nothing but make excuses for their mental health, who make no time for people they say they care about, starting drama all the fucking time?

i saw this happening, i knew, but i didn't do jack till i got scared i was going to lose a friend i care deeply about. even then, i acted like a dumb kid, avoiding the topic, getting mad at them, not taking responsibility for my actions.

i had to ask, after another awkward conversation and being PROMPTED to, and be told the EXACT THINGS I THOUGHT WERE WRONG but had done nothing about.

all in all, it just all hit me at once how i really don't like this person I've become, and how i need to fuckin change.

obviously, remaking is something i do when i need a fresh start. plus it gives me a chance to clean up, unfollow folks if i have to, etc.

in addition to this, i'm making an effort to better my life and re-prioritize it.

I already have done more studying in a week towards my GED than i have since i dropped out, and soon i plan to work on funding it.

i will also work on my license when i get the manual online again. same thing, will work on funding.

i'm working on doing more art too, brushing up my redbubble, art blog, art twitter, art IG. its my main skill and best source of income at the moment. i aim to get some commission info up ASAP, like really, so i can start working towards those tests.

also looked at colleges; this is something i'm a little overwhelmed with, but i'll figure something out soon.

i'm working on figuring out how to spend more time with my older, formerly closer friends especially, honestly i think we'll have to schedule time together but hey, its a start right?

homewise...its still. ugh. still... complicated. i'm hoping by showing more maturity she lets me do more, but barring that, we're looking at townhomes to rent and most don't have alarm systems.

i also am gonna look into online banks for the time being, so that if i need to nab an uber/lyft etc or anything else, i can use my paypal money.

now, this is a long term kind of thing, but. i've had half these plans for awhile, and if i don't act on them, i never will. I... don't wanna be the person i've been. that's the worst side of me. i wanna be better, and i will.