#jobless and goofy

[bittlebarnes]

Like, I know the majority of the Teen Wolf cast is unemployed, but I didn't realize they were... that unemployed

[matd0]

Hello guys

I had to take a pretty lengthy break from pretty much all social media, super sorry for just disappearing like that.

bunch of stuff happened, I moved back to my parents’ house, tried to focus on school, got kicked out of school lol, went through a pretty rough patch over all :´D

I’ve been trying to work on just pretty much getting my basic needs met every day (eat enough, sleep enough, drink enough water, shower, etc.) and even though it’s a bit of a struggle i think I’m starting to feel pretty stable and happy again. yahoo :3 !!! so yeah i feel well enough to be perceived on the internet again 👍

Since i’m currently a jobless dropout, I should have time to post more stuff i think (this is genuinely something i love, and all I rlly want is to make stuff that makes others happy so thank you all for supporting my goofy and dubiously cringy creepypasta posting)

List of things and stuff I want to do/post/focus on:

- commissions. nbr. 1 priority (unfortunately i become a bit of a perfectionist when i get paid to draw something T_T)

-reply more to asks. It’s fun and I want to interact more with people (just need to beat up the anxiety demons)

-literally just draw more.

-maybe perhaps even post about the eyeless jack AU story thing i have been brewing in my mind…….. maybe.

-also i’m trying to do artfight again this year. bit dubious how much i’ll actually get done but oh well.

Anyway, thanks for reading lol.

here's a couple of little sketches for you o7

[lalunanymph]

who’s your (baby) daddy. [4] 

╰┈➤ After being dumped by your boyfriend of 3 years, you decide to switch things up and go on your own version of a “hot girl summer”—subsequently finding yourself with a surprise that would arrive in 9 months time. The catch? You have absolutely no idea which of the men you slept with is your baby’s daddy.

𖨆♡𖨆 nanami x reader, gojou x reader, toji x reader, sukuna x reader

# tattoo artist sukuna, talks of pregnancy, semi-public sex, mentions of blood, reader gets a tattoo, mentions of food, fem!reader, pregnant!reader, ieiri is a girlboss, gojo is actually sweet in this, soft!sukuna

‗ ❍ masterlist  

If you thought your already wacky life could not get anymore crazier, that was nothing compared to the shitshow that waited for you one fine Monday.

Nothing was out of the blue; it had been two weeks since that altercation in the OBGYN room and you decided that even if Gojo would walk out, at least you still had your job and burgeoning career to support you.

… or not. 

“You’re fired.”

For the longest second, you did not speak, swivelling your head to the side to check if there were cameras spotlighting you; whether there was a man in a chicken suit standing in the corner waiting to jump out and yell you’ve been pranked!

But, there were no cameras—not even a goofy dude in a chicken suit—just the strict-faced new HR and Mia’s pinched expression. 

You gazed at her in aghast, crying, “Huh? You can’t just fire me for being pregnant!” 

The woman with slicked-red lips pouted those obviously fake plumpers at you in an attempt to seem sympathetic yet righteous at the same time. “It’s not because you’re pregnant, Y/N. That whistleblower piece put us in hot water and we have to cut our losses.”

Turning your gaze to your boss, you gesture wildly for her to butt in. “Mia—!” 

“Y/N is one of the best and she’s right—she’s pregnant. What would other companies say when they hear how badly we treated someone who has been with us from the very start?” Despite your boss’ furrowed brow and solid argument, Miss I-Have-A-Stick-Up-My-Ass did not seem too pleased.

“I understand that Y/N has been with us for a long time, but trouble is trouble and she is plenty of it.” 

Knowing that not even your boss could fight off regional HR if they chose to take action, you stood up, albeit with some difficulty with your four-month baby bump. Sure, you may not have been the model employee; you often stole sachets of coffee from the pantry, occasionally threw up in your waste paper basket because you were too tired to walk to the toilet and even once used Mia’s face spray liberally to cool down your neck in a flash of maternal hormones, but you were an asset.

You were an asset to this company. 

Or at least, that was what you had deluded yourself into thinking. Hands cradling your palms, you fixed her with a determined glare. “Look whatever-your-name is—”

“It’s Kuragi-san.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered dismissively. “If being a mother has taught me one thing, it’s that integrity and the truth is very, very important.” You swallowed at the thought of your future now that you were jobless, but the anger forced you to spill out the words you might not otherwise have had the courage to say. 

“And if I were to be working for an organisation that does not value the truth—as painful and dangerous as it can be sometimes—then you can keep destroying this once grand company with your narrow-minded, and frankly, cowardly ways.”

You spun on your heel, passing Mia who gave you a high-five. The clacks of your low heels resounded through the halls, and you almost missed how the other staff—from the junior reporters to even the office girls—drew their heads back into the cubicles, chagrined at having been found eavesdropping on your bombastic statement.

But after the high of standing up to Kuwagari or whatever-the-fuck her name was subsided, you found yourself on the roadside curb next to your car, pregnant, jobless and carrying a small box filled with the sparse office mementos you had collected from your decade at Tokyo Today. The building loomed over you, its shadow keeping you cool from the striking sun and you allowed yourself to exhale—to truly absorb the fact that you had done it now. 

Did I make a mistake? 

There was nothing for you to do but to accept and acknowledge that it was your own doing that led you here today. You palmed your rotund belly, whispering to it softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I thought I could make it better for you but I went and messed it up.”

Okay, new goal in life: no matter what, you were still going to provide for your baby by any means necessary. You still had some savings in your bank and if all else failed, you supposed your parents would rather you home (albeit pregnant and unemployed), than if you were off searching for fast money in clubs and bars to feed your daughter. 

The thought alone scared you and for the first time in your life, you came to terms with just how small of a speck of your life was in the great fabric of things. In some ways, you were still that little girl looking both ways before she crossed the street; always ready for the first sign of danger so she could run away and hide. 

No. Nope. This was not happening. You would rather trade your left kidney than to be caught crying in front of a company that booted you out heartlessly. Mia had already texted you and left you some numbers that you could call; connections that were searching for a business writer, but you had left her on read to lick your wounds in peace. 

Perhaps you would return her messages tomorrow. With any luck, maybe you would sleep past the morning so you would not have to wake up for breakfast—one meal of the day saved from your sheer laziness. 

You staggered into your old car and locked the doors, starting the engine and sinking back into the worn leather seats. 

This was it. It was time to say goodbye. You glanced up at the place you had paved your career for a good ten years and sighed. Since your pride was already in shambles and you had no one to share your sudden sadness with, you dialled the first number that came to mind. 

“Hey, mama,” Gojo’s voice chirped from the other end and you never expected that simple greeting to lift your spirits. 

“Hey,” you muttered, tapping your steering wheel with one finger. “Something happened.”

“Damn. Are you going into labour already?”

You scoffed, biting down the urge to grin widely. “Really funny, Satoru.”

“What can I say—I strive to be the best at everything, including cheering you up. So, what’s up?”

Trying hard not to burst into tears, you cursed your raging hormones when wetness trickled down your cheeks, expelling a quick laugh and swiping at your eyes. “I just got fired.”

There was a crackle of silence over the line. “Fired? Why?” 

“Apparently we’re getting sued… and I was the cause of it.” 

You could imagine cerulean blue eyes lowering and perhaps, his peachy lips would be turned down into a frown. Part of you expected him to mutter some form of half-assed condolences, and not say: 

“Stay put, okay?” 

“Satoru—”

“I’m coming for you. You’re still at the building?” 

You gripped the phone tighter, unable to believe the extent of his kindness. “Mhm hmm.”

“Okay, be there in a flash.”

He stayed true to his word. Gojo arrived in all his glory; a sleek white Aston Martin, neatly pressed suit and shades lowered to hide the twinkle in his eye. He took your keys and tossed it to a familiar woman who smiled at you in greeting. 

“Utahime-san, please take Y/N’s car and drive it back to her residence. I’ll take her from here.”

“Yes, sir.” 

There was no room for you to gawk at the grandness of the car before Satoru was ushering you in, taking care to brace his palm on your head so you wouldn’t accidentally collide with the low beam. 

“This is… wow.” Your murmurs caught his attention and you glanced at him to find a smirk on his face. 

“I couldn’t just leave my baby mama all alone now, could I?”

“You’re too nice, Gojo.” 

The despondency in your tone was apparent enough for him to detect. He switched gears and the car tore down the street, towards the highway. Gojo had even made sure you wore a seatbelt and despite his hellish speed, he was surprisingly good on the road. 

“Say, what about we take a day off? Let’s go to this place I know and get ice cream.”

You perked up at that suggestion—or rather, your cravings did and you nodded enthusiastically. 

“That sounds perfect.”

He made small talk with you while he drove you to this little parlour in Odaiba, the Rainbow Bridge never looking this bright until you were sat next to Satoru who made you laugh at every little thing he said because he was too damn charismatic for his own good. Slowly, the dark mood you had on from your sudden change lifted and you followed him, arm-in-arm, into a tiny, spotless café where the owner called out to him in a friendly greeting.

Apparently, the wealthy and famous CEO of Gojo Holdings was a regular in this humble little shop, and the owner didn’t even hesitate to remark on how beautiful the two of you looked as a couple—a statement that Satoru did not deny. 

Buying your favourite flavour of that sweet treat, he sat down next to you with his own bowl—chocolate and macadamia nuts with a healthy drizzle of cherry sauce. It was a good choice and he was kind enough to let you sneak a few spoons, sensing it was your cravings that caused this lapse of manners and not your usual shy self. 

“So, what’re you gonna do now?” Satoru had this habit of licking his spoon between every mouthful of ice cream and you had to stop yourself from chortling at how that habit reminded you of a little boy. Unbidden, you wondered if your baby girl would inherit his love for sweets as well—if she was truly his flesh and blood. 

“I guess I'll live off my savings for a bit. Mia is talking to some publishing companies to see if they would have me. Let’s hope they love sloppy seconds.”

“Mmm, I like sloppy seconds.”

The innuendo hit you a second too late and you pretended to be cross with him. “You’re gross.”

He didn’t find any offence in your quick retort and hummed. “Was I the first one you slept with?” 

You hesitated and dropped your gaze to the sundae cup. There was a part of you that had already buried the idea that it could be Nanami’s baby—your ovulation had not begun when you slept with him for the last time… but Gojo did not need to know the full details.

“Yes.”

“So, she must be mine.”

You fought back a smile and busied yourself with another spoon full of ice cream before speaking. “Y’know, you’re taking this very well for someone who just found out your baby mama slept with two other guys.” 

“Ah. Crazier things have happened.” 

That admission got your eyes widening and you giggled. “Really? Tell me.”

He divulged you with every mind-boggling tale he had in his arsenal—from a psychotic ex-girlfriend who once spiked his drink with Viagra, to his parents’ divorce, the messy custody battle for him, his father’s new girlfriend that was Japan’s first Playboy bunny and his mother’s penchant at sneaking disses at her ex-husband whenever she was interviewed by a lifestyle magazine for her interior designing prowess—Gojo was giving you a front row seat to the mess behind the class.

“Damn. Are you sure you’re not living in a K-drama?” 

He gestured to your belly with a wide grin. “At this point—can we say we’re not?” 

Satoru definitely had a point. “Touché.” 

After dessert, he took you for a walk in Odaiba, pointing out a few cafes that he loved to frequent and even making plans for the both of you to try it whenever he could find a sliver of free time like today. You were coming to discover that Satoru was an impulsive man and had the filter of a seven year old boy who could not control his tongue. That was evident when he hung his long limbs over the metal railing that overlooked the sea, the warm tones of sunset drenching his handsome features and lighting up the blue in his eyes when he grinned at you. 

“I like you, Y/N. If you need anything, just let me know, kay? I know this is hard for you and I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

Whether from the hormones or the stress of the day, you found your eyes smarting and you dropped your gaze to the gently crashing waves under the floorboards of the bridge, nodding. 

“Thank you, Satoru. I’m glad you’re here.”

“No worries.” To your mortification, he got down onto one knee and pressed his face into your belly—in the middle of broad daylight without caring that passers-by glanced at this six-foot-three man making kissy noises into your stomach.

“Satoru,” you giggled, and attempted to bat his face away. “Tickles!” 

“There’s that pretty smile,” Gojo said and straightened to touch your swollen belly with his larger palm. “Let’s get you and the pretty baby home, okay? Mama definitely needs her rest after a long day.” 

In her life as an OBGYN practitioner, Ieiri had thought she’d seen everything. 

From women who were ecstatic at the idea of being mothers, to those who were shocked at the idea of conceiving a life into this world when they weren’t ready, and everything else in between. She had seen fathers who had been there every step of the way for the love of their lives, and sadly, mothers who had to pave the way for their family all alone.

But, she had never seen a case like yours in all her years of experience. 

There were some days when the other staff members in the OB GYN department would inquire about the deeper circles under her eyes, the longer smoke breaks, but she couldn’t break patient confidentiality with you and disclose the details of your pregnancy. 

Besides, she was also your friend to boot and did not want to betray your trust in any way that was deemed inappropriate.

However, that became hard to do when she felt the presence of someone approaching her. She looked up from her haze of smoke and nearly choked on those nicotine wafts when she recognized who it was. 

“Kento?”

Before her, stoic and tall, was your ex-boyfriend. The young doctor lowered her cigarette and forced herself to smile—though with how taken aback she was at the sight of Nanami himself in the flesh, she was pretty sure it came across as a grimace instead. 

“Shoko. I’m so sorry to have snuck up on you like this but I’ve been trying to call Y/N and I haven’t heard back from her. She called me about a few months ago but hung up. Is she okay?”

You hadn’t divulged any of this with her and Ieiri was not sure how to respond. She chose a neutral route and diverged the topic back to him. 

“Hmm. Aren’t you supposed to be in Malaysia by now?” 

It was to her immense surprise when she heard his next words. 

“I cancelled it.” 

Shoko stared at him, the cigarette in her hand forgotten. Though she had never been close to Nanami Kento, your best friend could not deny that it was the happiest she had ever seen you when you were dating someone. Ieiri had even once jokingly called you a scumbag magnet—if there was a bum within a five mile radius, it was almost a given that you would’ve fallen head over heels for him. 

But, Kento was different. He was stoic, aloof and according to you—a genuinely good man who you could envision marrying. That was until he chose his career over you. 

Why would he turn down this opportunity of a lifetime? Shoko was familiar with how the Masamichi group was  expanding into Southeast Asia because of a bigger demographic and a plethora of opportunities; it would be a chance for Kento to purchase his house on the beach and retire early from the success of this expansion. 

So, why was he still here? 

Ieiri got her answer not even a second later. 

“I’m worried about Y/N. I… I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?”

The guilt she felt on your behalf pervaded through her chest and Ieiri coughed lightly, finally putting out her cigarette. Your life was already a mess with the potential of three baby daddies and the new issue of you losing your job. You didn’t need Kento coming back in the fray to give you more stress.

So, Ieiri decided that it was her duty as your friend and a decent doctor to break the news to him. 

“Nanami, there’s something you should know about Y/N…” 

He had straightened, broad shoulders going rigid. “Is she hurt?”

Far from it. Ieiri decided it was better to rip the band aid off than dance around the issue forever and she took a deep breath. 

“Y/N’s pregnant.” 

For a long minute, the blonde man did not speak. The hard expression he wore fractured at the edges as he absorbed this information. But, he was first and foremost a logical man—emotions would come later, and he had to uncover if this was the reason why you were avoiding him—with the possibility that you were carrying his child being the biggest cause of your radio silence.

“And I’m the father?”  

A flash of something like pity flitted across Ieiri’s pretty features. 

“I should let you know… she kind of had a wild few weeks and…”

Kento interjected before she could finish. “Is she fine?” 

“Yes. Well—no.” Ieiri took another deep inhale. “Y/N is pregnant and we don’t know who the father is because… she slept with three other men after your breakup.”

The breeze picked up, carding through her brown locks and his lighter ones. For a few minutes, Nanami did not speak. 

“Kento?” 

As if a spell had been broken, he snapped awake from his trance and jerkily bobbed his head. 

“It’s getting late and I’ve taken up too much of your break.”

“Kento—”

He spun around, all sharp edges and muffled emotions scattered across his angular and striking features. 

“Give Y/N my best.”

She stopped him before he could leave, needing to know what was his current headspace. Ieiri would be a huge liar if she did not admit that the reason for her curiosity was because she wanted to assuage the guilt at being the bearer of bad news. 

“What’ll you do now? Are you going to talk to her?” 

But he did not answer, ducking his head down so she could not see his reaction. Eclipsing his weary thoughts for his own morose rumination. 

“Goodbye, Ieiri.”

[A few months ago]

Once you had gotten over the sting of being creamed by your fling’s bitter ex, you came to the realisation that if life wanted to fuck you over, you may as well have fun with it. 

“A tattoo?” Ieiri was in disbelief the moment that request flew past your lips. 

Grinning, you nodded. “Yup! One on my hip.”

Beside her, Getou who was sipping on his matcha latte quietly gave a snort. “You almost cried when you had your cartilage pierced; are you sure you can handle a tattoo?”

You levelled him with a look. Dressed in his designer polo shirt and crisp pants, one would think that Suguru Getou was not the type for something as improper as tattoos. But, the dragon design around his neck begged to differ and even if you had wanted to dismiss his words, he had a ton of experience when it came to needles—more than you, obviously. 

“I think I could.”

The silence that spanned across the coffee table where all three of you had met for an impromptu brunch was riddled with disbelief. 

“Are you sure it’s professional?” Ieiri broached the topic, knowing how corporates, especially publishing ones, could be particular with the sight of ink on their employees skin. It was up there with dyed hair—who could take a business reporter seriously if they had hot pink locks? 

You pouted and it didn’t take long for your best friend to sense that there was nothing she could say to change your mind. “I’m not getting a big ass one on my face like those rappers,” you mumbled defensively. “It’s just a tiny one on my hip.”

That was apparently enough of a reason for Suguru to grab both you and Ieiri downtown to his favourite tattoo parlour. The smell of lavender and antiseptic reminded you of a hospital if it existed in another dimension. All around you, inked men and women waltzed around the premise, calling out a greeting to the tall Getou heir, friendliness in their words reminding you how you this was his turf and you were in safe hands. 

Well, almost. From across the room, you caught the eye of a sullen looking, pink-haired man. Recoiling slightly, you held a macabre fascination for the tribal-like swirls around his face, and neck. As if sensing your stare, he lifted his brown eyes, and stunned you into silence. Fuck—he’s hot. 

A hand on your back made you startle and Getou’s crescent-eyed smile carved itself into your periphery. “Sukuna—hey! Long time no see.” 

Like a switch had been flipped, the scary looking man trailed his intimidating stare from you to your friend, easing up with a genial smile. “Yo, Sugu. Been a long time. How’s that new one healing up?”

Much to your consternation, Getou lifted the hem of his black t-shirt, giving the entire shop a peek of his washboard abs and deep ‘V’, along with the tiger tattoo scrawled across his hip bone. “Perfectly, man. You knocked it out the board, as usual.” Chuckling amicably, he gestured towards you. “But, that’s not why I’m here—my friend is getting her first tattoo.”

You tried hard not to shrink back when Sukuna’s gaze met you again. This time, a teasing smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Oh, she’s your friend? Thought she was lost for a bit.” 

Before you could open your mouth to sarcastically retort that you weren’t, Sukuna gestured to an unattended room down the hallway. “My schedule is pretty free today—I’ll take her on.” 

Getou nodded enthusiastically. “Alright! You’ll be fine, Y/N. Sukuna here is the best at what he does. You’ll love your tattoo.” Like a proud father handing his reluctant toddler off at a daycare, the raven-haired man nudged you towards the tattoo artist, beaming brightly. “Ieiri and I will be next door having a massage. You call me once you’re done, okay?” 

You tried not to whine through gritted teeth for Getou to follow you into the room, watching helplessly as he spun around on his heel and left you alone, Shoko following behind and giving you a big thumbs up. 

Traitors, you thought murderously. They were supposed to be here for you, possibly even holding your hand in the tattoo room as you cussed your heart out, but they had left you on your own to fend for yourself. And your growing anxiety around the statuesque tattoo artist. There was a twitch in your left eye which was exacerbated the moment Sukuna scoffed.

“You're gonna stand around all day? Come on.”

You mirrored his scoff, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Are you always this rude to your clients? I could write a really bad review and affect your business.” 

For a second, your audacity sent him into a disquiet, and then, Sukuna chuckled. “Sure. I can play nice for a bit.” Cocking his head closer, he assumed an air of playful sobriety that was seriously off-putting with the ink on his face. “I apologise for my behaviour, miss. Please follow along with the sterilisation process.”

You opened your mouth to retort, wanting to ruthlessly mouth off until the smug smile from his face was gone when he ambled down the hallway. While getting a tattoo has always been what you wanted, could you bear getting it from such a rude man that brought out the inner Karen in you? 

Suguru did say this place was the best around Tokyo and he is paying for my tattoo… 

Ugh. Fine. You made up your mind and trailed behind the behemoth of a man, careful to set your purse down and sit daintily on the bench as you adjusted the hem of your knee-length skirt.

“It’s good you came prepared in a skirt,” Sukuna commented, shaking you from your reverie and tossing you a disarming grin. “Gives me easier access to work on you.” 

Your face felt way too warm for such a casual remark and you dropped your gaze from his piercing one, twisting your fingers together. “Just don’t fuck it up, okay? Or else I will literally bring my lawyer on your ass.”

That was a lie—you didn’t have a lawyer. But, what this smug asshole didn’t know would not hurt him. Sukuna lifted a brow and remained mum. He nodded towards a tray of tools. “I’m going to sterilise this first. You can go ahead and remove your blouse and hang it up there.” He gestured towards the coat rack. 

While the idea of stripping in front of an attractive man scared you, it was nothing in comparison to the idea that he would be evading your personal space. Literally touching your skin with his black-gloved hands. Feeling you tremble underneath him.

Fucking Toji. It was because of him you were still like a bitch in heat, ready to latch onto any available cock in sight. 

As if you were a bloodhound, you tried to keep calm when the scent of his rich, aquatic cologne hit you, your shoulders tensing when he sat on the metal stool next to the bench and tapped on the headrest. “Lie back down for me?” 

Doing your best to comply, you twisted your torso slightly, the makeshift blanket almost falling down to reveal the rise of your cotton-clad breasts. Sukuna must’ve been unaffected by your near nudity because he didn’t even react when your bare waist came into view. Probably used to seeing tits in his face all the time. 

Those rubbery palms touched your hip, smoothing a cool liquid over your skin that stung slightly. “Okay, I’m starting the needle.”

There was a whir in the background and you flinched when his palm tensed around your hip bone, nearly bolting out of the chair when the point of the needle touched your skin. 

Sukuna jerked and stopped the machine pen, shooting you a glare. “Hey, quit it. You gotta relax for me, okay? I could’ve tore through your skin with the—”

“I hate needles.” 

The admission fell between both of you like a pin dropping sharply from the edge of a table. Pinging and fracturing around with incredulous silence.

Sukuna gave you a look. “Then what the fuck are you doing in a tattoo shop?” 

Unbidden, tears glossed in your eyes, and Sukuna set down the metallic tool, sighing. “Let me take a wild guess—your ex-boyfriend dumped you so you want to get inked as a sign of your freedom when in fact, you’re still grieving over the relationship, right?” The corners of his lips twitched. “You’re not exactly hard to read.” 

You sniffled pathetically, never imagining in a hundred of years that you would be close to bursting to tears in the middle of a tattoo parlour. 

Evidently, Sukuna may seem like he had a grasp on the situation, but he was just as clueless as you were and had rightfully offended you.

The air was thick with tension, uncuttable and gooey with some unnamed emotion. 

Sukuna decided not to say anything else and pass you a tissue, switching off the running machine with a soft sigh. “If you’re not paying me for a tattoo, at least make it worth my time by entertaining me.” Sitting back, he crossed his arms across his very broad, very sexy chest, and lifted a brow, a ghost of a smirk ready to tug up in the corners of his lips. 

“Go on, tell me your sob story. Might even throw in a complimentary spa voucher if you move me real good.” 

That’s it. You snapped your mouth shut and hopped down from the bench, throwing off the blanket with a sharp swish of your wrist. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” There was a familiar steel in your tone which you often used on errant reporters and underlings that had the power to make anyone cower. 

But, for Sukuna, all you succeeded in doing was making him confused. 

“So, you don’t want my listening ear?” 

You could no longer hold back the vitriol ready to spill from the tip of your tongue. 

“Look here, mister. Yeah, sure, you may be the best tattoo artist in this district and a good friend of Suguru, but I won’t tolerate your rudeness, especially when it comes to commenting on my life.”

The flinty edge in your gaze shocked him. “So, you can keep all your wisecrack jokes to yourself and I will see myself out. If you want me to bill you for the consulting fee, you know who to ask.” 

As you were about to tug on your shirt, you heard him click his tongue. 

“Hey—I’m sorry.” 

You froze, about to jam one arm into a sleeve when his rueful apology reached your ears. 

A heavy sigh resounded, and you turned around to face him, blouse still askew over your head. “Well, you’re not forgiven.” 

Sukuna’s lips twitched again, and he helped you tug down your shirt. 

Unbidden, the tips of his fingers grazed your exposed abdomen, and you couldn’t hide a shiver at his calloused touch. 

Face still stuffed halfway into your shirt, you were helpless to stop Sukuna from trailing his touch down to your stomach which was now exploding into a million butterflies. 

“Sukuna—”

“Do you ever shut up?” He murmured, and as quick as his touch came, it disappeared from your body. The tattooist showed you a fleck of stray ink staining his index finger. “Accidentally spilled some on ya. Sorry about that.”

He nodded towards the exit. “You can wait for Suguru to be done outside in the lobby. I won’t charge you for anything today.”

His sudden niceness threw you off, and you narrowed your eyes. 

“You’re strange.” 

The corners of his lips twitched, his amusement contagious. “Rich coming from someone afraid of needles in a tattoo shop.” 

Sukuna rubbed his hands, huffing. “Well. Get out of here. I have another customer.” 

But, the masochist in you pinned you down to the leather seat, stubbornly warring with yourself to get this through. 

“Do it.” 

Sukuna cocked a brow. “What?” 

“I’m ready to be tattooed.” 

In answer, he sank back down, pulling out his gun—whether emboldened or amused by your sudden resolution, you had no idea.

“Okay. Take off your shirt. We’re doing this, and—”

He gave you a look, one which froze you in place.

“—no backing out of this. Or, I’ll take your entire your deposit. Deal?” 

After what seemed like hours, your fresh tattoo was ready. 

Your clawed grip on the leather couch had left indents, and you were positive your molars were grinded into a pulp from how hard you had clenched your teeth.

“There,” Sukuna hummed, wiping away the dots of blood with a sterilised cloth, his smile small and a little proud. 

“You did so well for me. I’m proud of you.” 

Unbidden, his words cracked something in your mind, and the tears overflowed. It was mortifying to be like this—crying your heart out in front of an incredibly attractive man who had no idea how to handle your switching emotions. 

Embarrassed, you tried to play off your sudden outburst with a nervous giggle.

You expected him to kick you out—weirded by your reactions—not sigh and sit down next to you, his gloves in hand.

“Do you wanna talk about your relationship?” 

Mutely, you shook your head. 

“Do you want a drink?”

The mention of alcohol made you perk up and you nodded.

Sukuna exited through the curtains and returned a minute later with bottles of beer—one for him and one for you. You both clinked in morose cheers and drank in silence; the alcohol taking away the edge of pain from both your throbbing tattoo and your broken heart. 

“You’re better off without him,” your tattooist said after a moment. “The dude, I mean. Fuck him. You’re pretty—you’ll find someone good soon.”

Cracking a watery smile, you chuckled. “You think?” 

“I know.” His smile was confident and his charm irresistible. “A good girl like you will make a great one for any guy.” 

Good girl. 

Oh. 

Heat slicked down your spine, curdling somewhere in between your thighs. Sukuna watched the effects of his words play across your face—calculating the exact point when you were weak enough for him to make his move.

It was when your mouth fell slightly open, eyes darting over his face tattoos to fully drink in his own vermillion eyes, did he lean forward and kiss you.

You drank him in, no longer shy or subdued—turned flirty and lethal from the coasting hormones the pain elicited and the strong beer. His kisses rained like warm dew drops down your neck, your shoulders, and in between your exposed cleavage.

Sukuna hitched you up higher on the seat, knocking the beer bottles over. They shattered to the floor, and someone yelped in the room next door.

“Sorry,” he grunted, frantically groping under your skirt to pull your panties off. “Kicked something over.” 

He slapped his other palm over your mouth, pushing two fingers into your slick hole. Sukuna finger-fucked you fast and hard, the muted squelching of your pussy creaming all around his black gloved fingers effortlessly.

You whined and squirmed, eyes rolling back into your skull. Unable to take the searing pleasure.

Sukuna didn’t let up. He was ruthless—making you cum quietly in the back of his shop. Those warm and slightly chapped lips latched onto your pulse point, kissing down your shoulders as you convulsed and twitched in his arms.

Not giving you a moment to catch a breath, Sukuna unsheathed his cock from behind his acid wash jeans. You whined softly, impatiently pushing up his shirt to expose his washboard abs. 

Sukuna took the hint, ripping off his shirt and yours.

The air between both your lips tasted like ripe honey, and you lapped at his lower lip, swallowing his scratchy moan.

His voice alone could turn you on—and knowing the effect he had on you, Sukuna cooed, like an owner speaking down to his pet as he propped you onto your hands and knees. 

“Hold the chair tightly,” his whisper was hot against the sensitive shell of ear. “And don’t make a sound, you understand? One single moan and I will stop everything.”

As he spoke, he rutted the tip of his cock in between your thighs, and you were glad you wore a simple skirt today. It made it easier for him to pull down the crotch of your panties to the side. 

Sukuna slipped his entire prick inside of you without much prep, and your entire body tensed—your previous release helping to ease him all the way to the hilt. 

His hands were clawed on your hips, using them as an anchor to jackhammer your willing cunt.

Too fast—this is too much.

“Too much,” you murmured, wincing when he pried his entire length from your creamy depths only to sink back into you unceremoniously. “‘Kuna—”

“You can do it.”

The sensation of a rubber covered finger tapping and rubbing on your clit added another layer of debauchery to this unexpected tryst. A mewl ripped past your clenched teeth, and true to his word, Sukuna stopped all movement.

“‘Kuna,” you mumbled, peeking over your shoulder with wide, teary eyes.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

The tips of his pink hair were slick with sweat; falling right into his face, giving him a shadowy intrigue which shot straight into your neglected pussy. 

“I told you I would stop.” Without waiting for your reply, Sukuna sank his teeth into the tip of his gloved middle finger, yanking off the rubber in one smooth move. He repeated the motion with the other hand while you were spread legged and dripping onto his chair, waiting for him to move. “And you didn’t listen.”

Clinically, almost cruelly, he buried two fingers into your gaping hole, curving them upward. This time, he took a moment to inspect your folds and squeezing cunt, his face almost close to your ass.

“Hmm.” 

It was dehumanising to have a stranger do this to you, but you couldn’t stop him. You didn’t want to stop him. 

“A pretty pussy,” he mumbled, and withdrew his fingers, leaving you aching and empty again. 

Sukuna leaned forward, the heat of his body seeping into your bare thighs. “One more time, darling. And this time, be good for me, okay?” 

Nodding, you arched your back and he laughed at your eagerness. At how you presented yourself to him like an offering on a silver platter. 

“Slut,” he rasped, taking control of your body once again and bullying his cock into your tight heat. “Such a fucking eager little fuckdoll.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from moaning. There was only a curtain to separate both of you; anyone could walk in and see your tattoo artist balls deep into your creaming pussy.

Sukuna’s free hand had reached under your shirt, expertly tugging your bra cups down to pinch and roll your nipples.

The fact you were both still halfway dressed made you burn with both embarrassment and lust. Nothing else was heard around the room except for the soft squelches of your pussy taking his cock and his heavy breathing growing even denser.

Sukuna’s hips stuttered, and you could tell he was close. He bucked and undulated against you, a choked moan that almost sounded like pain caressing your neck.

“‘Kuna—” your whine was cut short by his rough hand tugging your face to his, lips crashing onto yours.

A dark sort of emotion overtook you, and for one split second, you were no longer the heartbroken girl trying to find meaning in life. Sukuna’s touches made you feel alive; brimming with vitality and hope.

Warm spurts filled you up and you gasped into his mouth, feeling him filling you up like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. 

When you both could finally speak, Sukuna gently withdrew himself and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

You closed your eyes, leaning back into him, exhausted to the bone.

“Keep the deposit,” he rasped in his low, deep voice; chest rumbling underneath your cheek. “The tattoo’s on me.”

After the disastrous week that was the result of your unfair dismissal at work and the revelation that Gojo Satoru wanted to be in your life not just as your baby’s daddy, but as a friend, things seemed to look up. 

Granted, your bank account was slowly dwindling by the day, and the food in your fridge was becoming just as sparse as your finances; you didn’t have anything much to do in the day but read up on business news and take baths—but all the hardships made you work even harder, determined to make a better life for your baby. 

Shoko had heard of your predicament and called you up for a wine night—or in your pitiful case—a sparkling wine night and teasingly asked you, “Why don’t you get Gojo to pay your bills?” 

“I’m not a sugar baby, Ieiri,” you had grumbled and she snorted, looking resplendent in her floral summer dress while you felt like a whale beside her. 

Stupid pregnancy belly. Your clothes were becoming too tight around your hips, and squeezing into your jeans made you feel like your thighs had turned into pieces of meat being squished into a sausage skin. 

Whoever said that women were the most attractive during their pregnancy obviously missed the mark by about a whole mile. 

“Money is money, Y/N. Besides, you can always use the excuse that you need it for the baby.” 

You had shot her a look over your sadly non-alcoholic glass of despair and frowned. “Are you teaching me how to swindle money from a CEO?”

“I’m teaching you how to be in your bag, Y/N,” she corrected with a smirk.

That was a few nights ago, and the idea still replayed in your mind. However, you recalled Gojo’s happy smiles and how he was genuinely ecstatic to be having a child and you reasoned her suggestion did not seem so farfetched. 

Winter was steadily approaching as seen from the snatches of cold air circulating around the apartment, and with it, Gojo’s increasing busyness. You had not heard from the white-haired CEO for almost a whole week and you were growing antsy. Your phone was resolutely silent as well, your messages to Toji and Sukuna going unread since that disastrous day in the OBGYN room. Trying hard not to let the winter blues and the chill of those two men get to you, you decided to take yourself out on a date. 

Bulging belly apparent under your sweater, you winced at the tenderness of your breasts and massaged them gently while you tried to bend over and lace your boots. Deciding that you did a good job, you huffed, dragging your puffy coat over your frame. Appraising yourself in the mirror, you had to bite down on a laugh at how much you looked like an inflated Michelin man. A part of you was saddened that you could no longer dress up in babydoll dresses and sleek winter coats; since becoming a mom, practicality had very much taken over fashion. 

The streets were bustling and you stayed closer to the walls, people giving you way once they noticed your swollen stomach and reddened face. How did all these Hallmark movies make pregnancy seem almost effortless? All those actresses had dewy skin, perfectly rotund bellies and a doting husband near them at all times—none of which you had with you right now. 

The cafe you wanted to visit was too crowded and you huffed, taking out your phone and deciding to move to a different location. But before you could waddle away in disappointment, a harsh wind picked up and snatched your loosely tied scarf, the red material shimmering from your grasp as you exhaled out an exasperated, “Ugh—seriously?”

Moving as fast as your swollen legs could carry you, you rushed to grab the evasive material, nearly twisting on a patch of ice and tangling in your undone boot laces. For one split second, gravity seemed to elude you and you cried out, terrified beyond belief, the one warning flashing in your mind: my baby!

But before you could careen down to the ground, a strong arm caught you. 

“Y/N!” 

You gasped and held onto the defined bicep for your dear life, the blood rushing through your ears loud enough to stifle the presence next to you. 

“You’re alright—you’re alright, love.” 

That voice…

Glancing up with teary eyes, you were stunned by who had caught you. 

“S-Sukuna?” 

He was dressed warmly in a cashmere sweater and a woolly black scarf, tribal tattoos on his face and neck standing out like a stain on his tanned skin; incredibly handsome under the slate-grey skies. The wind ruffled his rosy hair and you noticed he had a greasy box in one hand, the other still wound around your waist. 

Cognizant that he was still holding onto you, he reluctantly let you go. There was no mirth in his light brown eyes when he appraised you, apparently exasperated at your disposition. “Be more careful next time,” he clicked his tongue and took in your dishevelled state. “Jesus, who dressed you? A toddler?”  

Before you could protest, he set the box down on a shop’s window ledge and got onto one knee, lacing your boots tightly, straightening your collar and even adjusting some buttons of your coat that were askew. His brisk assistance left you with a light dusting of pink on your cheeks and you ducked your gaze down when he tried to meet your eye. 

A layer of awkwardness hovered between both of you and Sukuna eventually cleared his throat, picking up the box once more. 

“I heard about how you got fired. I was about to head over to your apartment. Um, I got you some pizza.”

He mumbled everything under his breath, as if he were embarrassed of admitting something simple as helping someone who was not himself. 

You blinked—once, twice—before finding your voice. “Oh. Thank you.” 

Sukuna shifted from one foot to the other, still unable to meet your eyes. “Um—do you wanna head back? I think it might get cold.” 

“Sure.” 

It was a short walk back to your apartment and even when you felt fine, you were surprised when he roughly tugged his scarf from his neck to sloppily wrap it around your bare neck. The smell of his musk and rich cologne pricked your nostrils and you hid your blushing cheeks in the folds of the soft material. 

He cleared his throat, attempting to make conversation. “Are you okay?” 

“I’ve been better.” In a quieter voice, you asked, “How did you know I was fired?” 

“Gojo told me. Fucking hell—that HR was ruthless. You sure you don’t want to sue her? Firing a pregnant woman is a discrimination.” 

Somehow, hearing Sukuna getting angry on your behalf made the warmth on your cheeks deepen. Hiding your quiet pleasure at how nice he was being for a change, you tittered. “I’m done with that line. I might just open a flower shop.”

“A flower shop? That’s so girly.”

Your apartment appeared and he helped you to unlock the front door, careful to usher you in first. Catching your breath, you responded to his jab a few seconds too late, your lagging pregnancy brain striking again. 

“Ooh, look at me, I’m a big, muscular, tattooed man who hates flowers. Real charming, Sukuna.”

Biting down a smile at how indignant you sounded, Sukuna settled himself on your couch, taking a gander at your space. You sat down next to him with two plates and two cups of Coke, sending him a mock glare. 

“No, no. I meant that as a compliment.” 

The pizza smelled heavenly and you indulged in two slices, the grease easing the disappointment of losing your favourite scarf. If he noticed the empty room you were slowly cleaning out to make space for your baby’s nursery, he didn’t say anything. 

You were coming to discover that Sukuna was more of an action-based person; preferring to speak with his carefully crafted gestures compared to flowery words. In that sense, he was different from Gojo, and you welcomed the change. 

For instance, Sukuna’s hesitation was apparent when he placed his palm on your belly, the warmth permeating through the thick material of your sweater. It was quiet except for both of your in-sync breathing. Outside, the wind was picking up, rattling the windows and exacerbating the silence within the walls. You didn’t break the heady solitude apart, content to bask in his affections and attention when those dark brown eyes flashed in wonder, cradling your bump with his larger hands. 

You shifted your feet into a lotus sitting position and winced. Sukuna noticed your lapsing gesture and gave you a quizzical look. 

“My knees are swollen.”

You didn’t expect what he did next. Gently grasping your ankles, he unfurled your legs and set them on his lap, removing your socks and massaging your feet. An unrestrained groan of relief slipped from your mouth and he chuckled in low tones. 

“Shit—that feels good.”

He hummed, not wanting to break that blissful look on your face so he stayed quiet, pressing his knuckles into the arch of first your right foot then left foot to ease the tension . 

Completely lost in the pleasurable relief, you almost didn’t feel the wetness seep through your panties, the quick twist of your womb. It was only when your abdomen started clenching harder that your eyes flew wide open and you squeaked. 

“Sukuna—um, I think—oh shit.”

He stopped his ministries instantly, tribal tattoos crinkling as he frowned. “What’s the matter?” 

In answer, you whimpered, and pointed to your soiled jeans. 

His dark eyes widened. “Did you piss yourself?” 

Your glare was marred with pain when you shook your head, resisting the urge to sock him right in his handsome face. “No, you dumbass—”

Breaking off, you clenched your teeth, doubling over with a gasp.

His reaction was immediate. “Oh. No. Are you—?”

Sukuna’s first instinct was to wrap his arms around you, hustling you out of the apartment and into the cold.

You nearly screamed at him to get you back into your warm apartment, but from his pinpricked pupils and heavy breathing, Sukuna wasn't exactly thinking straight.

Frantic vermillion eyes darted around the snow-flooded street. Shops were closing and many people were hiding from the flurry of snow falling from the sky. 

The entire world was shutting into itself to brace against a snowstorm and your baby had decided this was the perfect time to arrive.

You grunted in pain, fisting the front of his winter coat. "'Kuna, I wanna go back in. I—"

"You need a hospital," he urged, the panic in his voice unshakable.

The look on your face was brimming with pain, cheeks ruddy from the cold.

“My water broke,” you muttered, as if it wasn’t obvious what you were going through. “‘K-Kuna… help me.” 

Snapping back into action, Sukuna hopped up, holding onto you carefully as he made a few calls. But, with every single rejected dial tone, his panic was increasing.

“Shit,” he cursed, calling another hospital in a different district. 

Of all days when his potential baby mama had to pop, it would be when he didn’t have his bike with him. 

It was stuck in a workshop, the radiator frozen after these unprecedented winter nights. Sukuna was starting to grow desperate.

Another sharp gasp of pain from you rattled his chest, and he tried the ambulance one more time. 

Finally, someone answered.

“Hello?” He rushed without preamble. “My girlfriend is about to give birth. We need an ambulance down Kosai Street, stat.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the operator sounded regretful. “The snow is piling up and our ambulances were already deployed to other cases.”

He heard the meaning loud and clear: you’re not important enough to waste resources on. 

The tattoo artist sneered, teeth bared at the stupid woman’s simpering. 

“Fuck, no,” he snarled. “This is important, too! We have no mode of transportation and—”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she repeated again, this time more firmly. “We just received word of a huge accident down the Shibuya intersection and I’m afraid we have to respond immediately. Please allow us two hours to reach you and in the meantime, keep your girlfriend warm and out of the weather.”

The dial tone echoed down the line, and Sukuna thought he had hallucinated the whole conversation.

But, before he could go on a rant about how terrible and unfunded government hospitals are becoming in this country, you grabbed his arm, wincing in pain.

“Call Satoru,” you said in a strangled voice. “Call him and he’ll come. T-take my phone from my pocket.”

Sukuna did as you asked, putting his ego aside to call up the white-haired motherfucker. 

However, just as he was about to press the button, a soft voice interrupted the both of you.

“Do you need a lift?”

Haloed by his car lights, a tall, blonde man strode towards them, his hands in his pockets and a look of solemn worry on his face.

Sukuna didn’t know the guy, but evidently you did when he heard your soft and pained gasp.

“K-Kento?” 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He sounded formal, though the look in his eyes was steeped with regret. 

Something about how you said his name made the other man think this Kento guy was special to you.

But, he had no time to ask if this was the same ex who had landed you in this pickle with three other men; your legs had given out and you were sinking into the snow with an agonised cry.

Using all his strength, Sukuna hauled you into his arms, ignoring your shriek of surprise.

Looking this Kento stranger in the eye, he nodded towards the humming car. 

“Thanks. You came just in time. Y/N needs a hospital.”

Kento’s eyes never left your prone form in his arms, and Sukuna was starting to feel like he had unwittingly landed in the middle of something entirely too intimate.

The both of you were locked in a silent staring competition, and the tattoo artist had just about enough of this unspeakable tension.

“Oi,” he barked, loud enough to startle Kento’s attention back to him. 

“Are we just gonna fucking stare around? Y/N’s about to pop out her baby. We have to get to the hospital—now.”

— reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy and repost, or claim as your own

[nwjnsloona]

iced americano! -bang jeemin

saebi said she would pick yn up from her class but she forgot! yn was left to find shelter from the pouring rain, when suddenly, she spotted a cafe open. but what’s this? the barista is gorgeous!

TAGS— fluff, coffee shop au, kms/kys jokes, they’re just silly goofy gals

FEATURING— izna, vv brief mentions of hanbin

STATUS— on hold for now.....

profiles: yns babies | hag & co

01 — jobless vibes

02 — waiting

03 — On my way! (half written)

04 — dance team

taglist (open!) — @tzurelles @yerimbrit @sserajeans @edamboon @ourlovesarang @emphobics @yncoreee @rosiehrs @gtfoiydlyj @chaefims

[prettypinkporkchop]

Attached

"Charlie! You're so freaking goofy, man." You shove him.

"Hey, I'm a cop, I know things." He laughs. He looks around in his office and then sighs.

"What's it today, Swan?" You ask, leaning back in the chair in front of his desk.

"My daughter's about to get married to this dumbass." He rolls his eyes.

You lean forward, intrigued. "Who?" You ask.

"Edward Cullen." He chuckles.

"Carlisle's son?" You ask in shock.

He nods his head. "Being new to Forks, everyone knows everyone." He says.

"Hey, I'm realizing that now."

Charlie has been a good guide to your new area. He's been so helpful to you. He's got you a job at the sheriffs department. You make food and coffee in the breakroom. You also keep up with papers and organize files. Without Charlie's help, you'd be jobless.

"Billy and I are going on a fishing trip next weekend. Do you want a side gig?" He asks you.

"I mean, sure." You smile.

"You haven't met anyone in La Push besides Billy and Sue, right?"

You nod your head.

"Well, maybe you could make friends on this gig. Basically, during the trip, could you house sit for him? Billy is, uh, paranoid about leaving his house unattended." Charlie laughs.

"It doesn't sound like a bad idea!" You smile.

"Y/n," there's a knock on the opened door, "time to wrap up for the night." You turn to see one of the dispatchers. You stand up and finish up what you have to.

"Make yourself at home while I'm gone. Don't be shy about getting food. Just make sure nothing burns down." Billy says.

Charlie grabs his bag and smiles at you.

"I've got your back!" You give Billy a thumbs up.

"Hey, Billy!" A young toned guy spawns inside.

You look at him, and then he looks at you. His brown eyes catch yours like a fish hook. You can't get out. You can't get away. Honestly, you don't want to. He's so beautiful..

"Kid, what do you need?" Charlie asks.

The guy doesn't move or talk.

Billy looks at you, then him, then back at you, and he smiles.

The guy jerks out of his thoughts. "Sorry! Sorry! Uh, Sam said you needed me. But I think I know why." He chuckles.

Billy nods his head. "Yes, check in on her while I'm gone. Make sure she's alright." He clicks his tongue. "Let's go!" He looks at Charlie.

The two men leave, and it's just you and this guy.

"So, I'm Quil Ateara." He reaches his hand put for yours.

You're absolutely confused as to why they have this random guy here to check on you. Bit you reach your hand out to his. Once your palms meet, you get butterflies in your stomach.

"Hey, I'm y/n. So, why are you here?" You ask, not realizing it sounded kind of rude.

He's scoffs, jokingly, and then pulls away. "Wow, alright!" He laughs.

"Oh! No! I don't mean it like that! I'm just-"

"Yeah, I got you. I know what you meant." He backs away to the front door, opening it. "I'm a busy person, but I was asked to check in on you to make sure you don't need anything and if you're okay." He explains.

You nod your head and look around the house. You start to think about being in an unfamiliar house in the middle of nowhere is lowkey scary.

"Well, if I need anything, I'll call you. Do you want to give me your number?" You reach in your pocket for your phone.

His eyes light up, and he smiles. "Sure!" He steps toward you, gently grabbing your phone. He types for a bit and then hands it back to you. He makes his way back to the door and nods. "See you later, y/n." He shuts the door.

Once he leaves, you step to the door to make sure it's locked. Of course, the handsome guy locked it for you! You step back from the door and make your way to the spare bedroom down the hall. Your backpack is lying on the small bed covered with white blankets and sheets.

Opening the backpack, your clothes start spilling over. You begin to unpack, putting your bathroom things in the small bathroom.

After unpacking, you take a shower and then get in bed.

You get on your phone and scroll on tiktok before falling victim to slumber.

You wake up freezing uour ass off. You're feeling so tired. You check your phone, and it is 7:00 am. Yay.

You put on some fuzzy socks, layer some clothes on, and walk into the living room where the thermostat is. You turn up the air and walk into the kitchen. You dig around for some breakfast. You settle on a bowl of cereal.

There's a couple of knocks on the front door. You walk over there and look out the door window. It's Quil. How is he shirtless? What the hell?

You open the door quickly. "Quil, get inside. It's freezing!" You shiver at the cold air from outside hitting you.

Quil chuckles and steps inside. "Cold?" He asks the obvious.

"Duh!" You shut the door and rubs on your arms.

He walks to the thermostat and bites his lip. "Sorry, Billy doesn't like this being up above 70." He turns it down.

You groan and look at him confused. "I have to freeze?"

"No." He steps up to you, hovering over you.

You haven't been this close to him. You can feel his body heat. You're holding your breath and refusing to look up at him. Your eyes are stuck on his collarbones. "Uhm," you cough, "is there like a heater in here?" You ask awkwardly.

He reaches down to your side. You gasp slightly because even though you have a hoodie on, his touch gives you tingles, and the heat radiating from his hand flows through the fabrics. He slightly pushes you over to walk past you. He steps into the laundry room. You hear a few beeps and then a fan noise.

He comes out, leaving the door open and walking in front of you. "There's a heater in there. You can change the settings." He explains, chewing the inside of his bottom lip.

"How are you not cold?" You reach forward and touch his shoulder.

He tenses up, taking in a breath and watching you.

"Because I'm cool like that." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes and shove him.

He bursts into laughter, and you make your way into the kitchen.

"Hungry?" You ask, stepping back to your bowl of cereal.

He shakes his head and goes toward the door. "No ma'am. I have to go. I'll check on you again tonight. Text if you need anything." He waves and leaves, locking the door behind him.

------

You step out of your car with the alcohol in one hand and some snacks in the other. You step up to the door, place the bags down, and reach in your pocket for the keys.

You feel nothing.

You freak out and look everywhere. You can't find it!

You look everywhere in the car, leaving your bags at the door. The key is absolutely no where! What the hell?

You go to the house and try to open up a window. All of them are locked.

You peak through the door and see the damn key on the dining table! "Shit." You grab your phone and call Quil.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. I'm stuck outside. I left the key in the house." You chuckle at yourself, embarrassed. You rub your palm on your forehead.

"I'll be right there!"

You stand there, waiting for the handsome guy to show up.

A truck pulls in and Quil steps out.

"Ha! You have on a shirt? Where'd you go?" You asked being nosey.

He takes off his sunglasses and hangs it on his collar. He chuckles at you, stepping to the door. "Working at the shop with Jacob." He pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the door.

"Who's Jacob?" You ask.

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Billy's son. He's busy being married and working at his automotive shop."

"Did I drag you away from work?" You ask worriedly.

"Yes, thank you." He smiles, bending down to grab your bags.

You two walk inside, and he places them on the dining table.

"Alcohol, eh?" He smirks. "Having a party?" He turns to you.

"Nope. It's just me." You smile. "Did Jacob give you the key?" You ask.

He nods his head and then walks to the door. "I'll be back tonight." He says, shutting the door.

You start to realize the more you see Quil, the more you want him around. You really like him which scares you. You guys JUST met.

You shake off your thoughts and sit on the couch, watching some TV.

Tomorrow is your last day to be here. Then, the two older men will be back, and you go to work on Monday.

When the moon comes up, you crack open some alcohol you bought. You play some music and relax by yourself.

You keep drinking and drinking until you are very tipsy. You lay down on the couch with your eyes closed, loving the slight spin.

Then, you feel warm hands hold your face from behind. "You're drunk?"

You smile and grab onto one of his hands that lay on your cheek. "Is it bad that I am?"

He pulls away and sits on the other couch. You open your eyes and sit up, looking at him. He has an amused look on his face.

"What's so funny, mister Quil." You slur.

"Nothing. Nothing. I'm just making sure you're good for tonight." He leans forward.

"Yup! Alllllll good." You wink.

You notice he blushes slightly and stands up. "Okay! Good. I'll be back in the morning." He says, about to walk away.

You grab his wrist as he walks past you. He looks down at you, confused. "I hate when you leave."

He keeps his gaze on your face. "I'll be back tomorrow." He repeats.

You frown and let his wrist go. Your heart feels broken now.

He sees the sadness on your face and closes his lips onto a thin line.

"Sorry, I made things weird. I just feel.. warm when I'm with you." You play with your fingers.

You look back up at him and see he's smiling.

He leans down and places a kiss on your head, bringing his hand up to your cheek. He bends down to your level and looks into your eyes. "I know. Me too. But I have to go." He says softly.

You are in awe of his eyes and face. You're stuck in a trance. But he moves back and then walks out. You sit there, thinking about everything and counting every butterfly in your stomach.

You finish packing your bag and cleaning the bedding. You zip up your backpack and turn off the lamp next to the bed.

"Knock, knock."

You turn and see Quil leaning on the doorframe. You instantly smile and your heart races.

"Good morning, Quil."

Saying his name makes him smile and look down.

"Good morning, y/n." He replies.

You sigh and cock your head to the side. He steps closer to you.

"Thank you for checking on me like I need supervision." You giggle.

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity to meet you." He says, pushing hair behind your ear.

You hold your breath for a moment and stare at him.

"Do I make you nervous?" He furrows his eyebrows with a sweet smile.

You nod, slowly, refusing to tear away the eye contact. But, the front door opens, and you recognize Charlie's laughter. This pulls you out of your trance, and you walk out of the room, Quil following behind you.

"Damn! You kept my house clean. I appreciate you." Billy smiles at you.

"It's no problem!" You pipe up.

Charlie steps to you and grabs your shoulder. "Ready for work?" He asks sarcastically.

"Nope!"

----

You walk into the state troopers office, knocking on the opened door. He stops typing and looks up at you, smiling.

"Miss Y/n, you got the package?" He looks in your arms.

You hold the brown box that amazon delivered.

"Yes, sir!" You step to his desk and place it down.

"Thank you!" He looks at the clock and gasps. "Go home! It's an hour past your scheduled time." He looks back at you.

"Yes, I know. I just wanted to be sure I had everything done so tomorrow isn't a train wreck." You chuckle.

He leans back in his chair, spinning side to side. "Hey, been there done that. Goodnight, y/n." He smiles.

"Goodnight!" You walk into your space and grab you stuff.

You head outside walking to your car. You sit down and pull your phone out. There are no messages. You miss Quil. You haven't seen him since Sunday morning. It's now Wednesday. You guys have been texting here and there, getting to know each other. You don't know how to ask him to come over. You're so nervous!

You look up and sigh, trying to think of what to text him. Out the windshield, you see a rose placed under the windshield wiper. You squint in confusion and step out to grab it. There's a ribbon wrapped around it. Is this Quil? No way... is it?

You get back in your car, placing it in the passenger seat. You grab your phone and groan. "Don't be a coward." You say out loud.

You: would you like to see me tonight?

You're surprised he responds back as fast as he did.

Quil: more than anything. Where are we meeting?

You: oh! What if we meet up at the beach? La Push.

Quil: count me in. Lmk when you're ready.

The wind is blowing through your hair. Outside is a hint of blue. The moon is bright and the waves are loud.

You walk through the sand, closer to the man standing in front of the water, staring out. You walk closer and closer and he looks over at you with a smile.

"Y/n." He breathes out, wrapping you up in a tight hug as if he... misses you...

You hold him back, smelling his earthy scent. You couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair in the back of his head. Doing so made him hug you tighter. You close your eyes as you relax in his peaceful presence.

"Quil." You whisper.

He pulls away and looks down at you, keeping his hands on your sides. "Mhm?"

"Why do I feel attached to you?" You reach up, grabbing his face.

He doesn't respond but his lips part slightly. He starts to lean down. You nervously lift yourself up. Your lips hover each other before he finally presses down.

The fire that just ignited you. His lips feel like they're going to ascend you to heaven. You kiss him harder, adding some of your tongue. He follows you and pulls your body closer to his.

He finally pulls away, leaving you breathless.

"I'm attached to you too." He whispers.

"But why?" You ask.

"I.. if I tell you, will you run away from me?" He asks.

This breaks your heart. You can't imagine pulling away from Quil.

-----

You plop down on your couch in shock, dropping your phone to the floor.

Vampires?

Wolves?

You literally just saw this guy turn into a fucking wolf.

-----

Friday. A new day. Time to think clearly.

You turn off the alarm on your phone and see Quil's messages.

Quil: I hope you are feeling okay. You don't have to talk to me anymore. Just let me know if you're okay, please.

You: I'm okay. I'm still going to talk to you. I just need more information. I'm going to work. I'll TTYL.

Your work day was absolutely easy! Thank God. Not only that but it's your last day for the week. Although it was easy, you kept having flashbacks of Quil's wolf form. But it gets easier with every forced image. You start to feel safer... and then safer. It's starting to make sense. It's all been settling in.

You step inside Charlie's office. He's standing up, putting on his jacket. "Off to duty?" You giggle.

He nods his head and sighs. "Yup. Got a complaint about loud neighbors." He stops and looks at you. "You doing okay, kid?"

You nod your head and lean on the door. "I'm good, Charlie. I've been... in love." You smile.

"Quil Ateara. Good boy! But if he hurts you, I'll kill him." He pats your shoulder.

Charlie leaves in his cop car with his partner. You get inside your car and call Quil.

"Hey." He says.

"Hey. Come over." You were shocked at how casual you are starting to feel about this whole new life. Immortals and shifters. Sounds fun?

"Yes! I'll be there!" He sounds so happy.

You get to your house and see him outside, waiting for you. But once you park, he's quick to open your door and pull you out. He hovers over you and smiles. "You look beautiful as always." He gushes.

"Mm, brownie points earned, Ateara." You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss you.

He kisses you back and walks forward until you back is you against your car. His hands hold your face, and he's kissing you as if he hasn't in a thousand years.

But he pulls away. "If you're comfortable with it, I was wondering if you'd like to meet the pack tomorrow?" He asks.

This lowkey excites you! Being around a bunch of wolves and a few humans.. shit... count you in.

"Yes!" You squeal.

[ideas-scattered-dreams]

/ / silence? anger.

fandoms: genshin impact AU: SAGAU player au?

imagine that... You were just minding your own business and playing genshin as you always do when u have free time. you always do farming, collecting, taking pictures of your characters, doing quest as the usual. You hummed being satisfied of your works, you ran up in hills and killing some hiluchurls with your characters of choice. you were a silent player playing this game, like most games u play always being silent and if needed to talk you would. you never really need a reason to talk, what would the character do? reply? that's laughable. Though, the thought of the characters replying is nice, as you can have a conversation with someone your familiar with and don't need to be uncomfortable with each other... you smiled and chuckled at your own delusion, a character wouldn't be programmed do so here, but u don't mind to think of that way.

The character u control is enjoying your presence and your elegant face in the skies. they don't mind being used for your own gain or just to have fun in general. though they wish to hear your voice rather than a sigh and a hum. they have seen a lot of your emotions that are visible on your face but not once voiced it out... until now ofc. 🌙━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━⭐ You were currently doing a quest that involves... ill abort or albert. you HATED that guy with pure sin and anger, u couldn't stand to be around him, you would glare and just avoid him at all cause, especially when u use barbara (or main her), but i guess this was your unlucky day, you had to interact with him. You saw him behind the cathedral... again. agh you knew why he is there but u cant program him to just leave and jump off a bridge to the water,' now what does he want..' you approach him hesitantly just moving your character slowly, like micro slow. agh... When u got close to him u couldn't stand him. like omg he ugly asf, you wish u could actually kill him with your character right now... you grumble and had a frown adored about your face, teyvats skies grew gray and winds grew harsh... the citizens wonder why u are angry and upset.. they couldn't have that right? if you were angry at someone, they should be disposed off quickly... the character u are using glared daggers at abort or albert for making you upset, this man just had to anger their grace with his presence.. before abort finishes his first sentence, you beat boxed that bitch hard. "stfu u looking like that one father that cheated their wife with a fuckin maid and still say your sorry even when u got her pregnant, what's up with you goofy ah outfit? bro looks like a a fuckin cabbage that your hair complements lookin like mayonnaise and what is with your posture? man even madame ping and the other granny grandpas has better back sides, you look like a whole ah gorilla, what's with the hair? did u dye it yourself bc u want to fit in the blonde air way? you look like bakugo madapaking katsuki Walmart version, bro i see others lookin like u in this game but you be the WORST one, bro looks like dottores failed experiment that lived a day to tell the tale. are u fucking jobless to stay here and fucking stalk our sweet deaconess barbara? i aint even surprised by you being jobless, bro i'd be surprise if your not homeless. bro thought he was albert Einstein but bro is just a weirdo stalking mf don't even stare at me with those fucking eyes i wish to PLUCK OUTTTT... "

You panted from that long speech and walked away from him, not looking back to see his shocked face and a group of acolytes behind him including Jean looking angered and disgusted. You were to upset to do your routine with your character for now as u are tired from yelling at abort... maybe u will ignore his quest and do another later.. you sat them down on one of the cathedral seats outside and planted a kiss on your finger and placed the kissed finger to your characters lips and exited.

After you left, teyvats skies thundered infront of abort, the characters you used has their weapons out ready to murder the fuck out of abort.. i mean.. you wont notice if he is gone right your grace? 🌙━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━⭐ the next time you logged in the game, you dont see abort anymore, like he just.. didnt exist in the first place... but who are u to question? good radiance he is gone, this made your mood happy and hum. this isnt a dream right? this feels 100% real, hah. what a nice reality.

[dlstmxkakwldrlarchive]

honestly onminkey are like my fav trio they're so silly n goofy n like jinki teases ming n ming teases kibum n then kibum teases jinki so it's like a fun triangle n their lil trips too 😣

this pic of them where it looks like jinki and kibum are sacrificing minho to some moster they're so fun... do u remember the anniversary live where jinkibum kept calling minho jobless and everyone was ? and then it turned out that it was just them teasing minho and his full solo schedule in jpn that he couldn't reveal yet 😭

[crowroboros]

stares at you stares at you stares at you

opinions on carl from echo vn Echo vn?

stares at YOU

Carl Hendricks. Where do I begin with him?

Simply put, he's great. I think everyone in the main cast is very compelling as characters, and Carl is no exception. I don't even think his route is bad or the weakest. In my opinion, it's on par with the rest. It just suffers from being the first done and thus comes off as disjointed and disconnected from all the others when looking at the VN as a whole (though I do wish his relationship with Flynn was present in his route. Especially how close they are. But again, first written, not everything was figured out I suppose.)

His struggles with anxiety and self-worth are some of the more grounded and relatable aspects of the vn and it's nice to see such things depicted in a way that isn't either complete ass or written off as a joke. Howly approached it in a more realistic way than most I'd say. His anxiety is taken seriously, and I appreciate that as someone with some anxiety issues of my own. The interview scene shortly before the hysteria was rough, and the way Carl describes what happened really highlights how anxiety can affect the way we perceive the people around us.

Do I think Carl was nervous and a bit awkward during the interview? Hell yeah. I know I would be as well. But do I really think that the interviewer was able to immediately tip off to the fact that Carl wouldn't be into it? Do I think that the interviewer was just thinking "man what an absolute fuck up this guy is. jobless"? No. But damn, I completely understand how Carl's mind was able to fill in any blanks to make those assumptions. When you see yourself as a fuck up, as worthless, you begin to read into what every slight tone change or off look can mean. You end up projecting those thoughts onto others and end up believing that they see you the same way. It sucks. And I really like that Chase still had his back and tried to comfort him after the fact without talking down to him.

I also like that who he is isn't defined by his anxiety both by the characters within the vn and from a meta perspective. Carl is an artist, he's goofy, laid-back, and likes to play games. And his friends see all of that, to them he isn't just "the one with intense anxiety" but is instead he's "Carl Hendricks". It's a common pitfall many make when writing characters who struggle from one thing or another where the writers hyper-focus on that one aspect and forget to flesh out the character beyond that.

I also think his relationship with his family name and his parents is interesting. I see a lot of opinions online about him being the typical spoiled rich kid and that his anxiety shouldn't be as bad as it is with the money he has. And while sure, money can make affording help easier it alone doesn't solve his issues. That's something that takes work. A lot of work. Furthermore, even though the Hendricks family is rich due to their ice-cream business and status as the founding family of Echo, we still need to take into consideration that he lives in Echo. The town itself is struggling and that immediately puts a divide between him and the rest of the population. We see it in Route 65 where Karen (the bus driver) refers to him as "pomp and yachty-blooded", to which Carl is described to then get a sort of distant look on his face. He's socially isolated because of his identity, something that isn't helped by the fact that it's pretty obvious that there is a pretty serious disconnect between Carl and his family legacy. That's even part of his route's conflict, dealing with the fallout of James and John's relationship. We also know that his parents tried forcing him into a business degree when he first went to college with Chase, something that quickly fell apart. To me, it's clear that Carl is under a lot of pressure and stress to walk the path that his family has laid out for him, and that he doesn't receive much support in his own interests and goals in life. This most certainly wouldn't have helped with his anxiety and self-esteem, feeling as if you're meant to live up to a legacy you have no interest in reaching.

I could talk about this vn all day, Carl included, so I might expand on this when I get home later cause I REALLY want to talk about his dynamic with the rest of the group (especially Flynn). But in short; Carl is great. Both as a character and as a person. If I was somehow ripped from this reality and plopped within the plot of Echo, I think Carl is probably one of the characters I'd be both the most willing to talk to and one of the characters I'd get along with the best. Proud member of the Carl Defense Squad.

[atopvisenyashill]

the way twitter stans don't get matt smith is playing up the blacks vs greens conflict like most of the actors have been in the recent interviews, like ofc as the person who plays daemon he's gonna say he doesn't like alicent lmao

(also i find it interesting how all of the crazy team green twitter stans had no problem when tgc called jace a dweeb isn't that hate too🤔)

no YEAH and like, obvious caveat it isn't the whole fandom but twitter does incentivise the absolute craziest people to get popular which means some of thee most annoying people to have ever existed in this world are popular in the greater hotd fandom, and what's been consistently frustrating is how many people who are either rhaenicent/girls focused or tg stans who just refuse to acknowledge the absolutely cracked behavior coming from their side. like, all this focus on olivia, basically with the implication that this is an isolated thing like with the hate lena got for playing cersei, but it's not because imo the internet (or at least twitter) has gotten infinitely worse since got finished, so it's not just olivia getting this insane behavior, it's the bulk of the cast! and it's coming from everyone, from the angry book fans, the targ nation delulus, the femslash enjoyers, tb, tg, every subfandom has had some insane and over the line behavior directed towards the cast that loves to default to either "well you're ugly and i hope you die" or just straight up bigotry.

like the amount of people (largely the "toxic yuri enjoyers" or the tb stans, i can whack the people i hang out with!!) going after tom for saying standard actor stuff like "I love my character" or "i feel bad for my character" and saying he's a rape apologist is crazy. people didn't even go after jason momoa for that real dumbshit "i get to rape beautiful women" comment this hard! is he supposed to not try to understand the character he's playing?? are people who play villains or antagonists just never allowed to feel sympathy for their characters? that's crazy, that's insane, but especially in a series where a) there are SO MANY villain protagonists and b) this series is known for exploring why bad people turn into bad people and why good people do bad things and what even a "bad person" or a "good person" looks like, so why are we mad that the cast plays into this??

and YEAH tbh like you say, i think there's a lot of in this case tg stans specifically who get so fucking angry whenever Matt Smith plays along with the "all must choose" angle but it's like - yeah of course he does, he's not the only one doing this, he clearly thinks it's fun to joke about how he's gonna decimate ewan mitchell, and i think a lot of his bts stuff throughout his career has gone from the two extremes of "having something amazing to say" and "being completely and totally unserious" because this is a job he does, and he likes to get goofy with it. it's fine!!! but no, apparently, it's such a crime to simply exist and like that he's playing this fun character with a goofy wig and a cool aesthetic that we've gotta dogpile every post about him calling him ugly!! but when The People We Hate In Fandom do something vile like call olivia a cunt to her face, that's the true evil! and when People We Are Friends With start saying really weird shit about fabien being ~violent~ we just look the other way even tho that feels just a lil racist!!!

it's more frustrating because you can't even say this is a fandom that skews young like a shitty teen show or a cartoon - this is a grown up show for adults, this is prestige tv, this is a show and a series you actually think "maybe i should wait a few years before i let my middle schooler dig into that one" but the fandom is SO INSANE. WE ARE ALL ADULTS WHY ARE WE ACTING SO JOBLESS. GO PAY YOUR CHILD SUPPORT. DO SOME YOGA SO YOUR BACK DOESN'T SEIZE UP BEFORE 40. TOUCH GRASS!!

[sage-the-unwise]

came up with this funny au idea in my head a while ago for the sole purpose of letting the iterators do goofy shit that's basically just that they have vrchat in their heads and they're all goofing off and living like jobless twentysomethings and having a good time because they deserve it. also nsh getting dunky donuts

[libertys-lovers]

*sharp inhale*

HAPPY BIIIRRRTTTHHHHDDDAAAYYY!!!!

Another year has passed for these six goobers! Another year of being silly, another year of being goofy, and another year of being jobless little NEETS! 🥰 (Even though they’re technically not jobless? They work on their own show, don’t they? Anyways-).

I know I’ve talked about it before, but these 6 have had such a huge influence on my life, it’s almost embarrassing. Their show is easily the most consistent fixation I’ve ever had, and their lives are a nightmare-scenario that I am so damn happy I get to indulge in. In self-ship lore, I’m proud to call them my friends. In real life though, damnit, I’m just glad I heard of them at all. Perhaps I shouldn’t get too personal, but every single brother’s had some sort of influence on me.

…

And, of course, that includes the catalyst brother for all of this.

As you can imagine, Kara is especially important to me. He’s somehow a culmination of what I am and what I want to be. We’re both really dramatic & artistic in a way, and we both act despite how others perceive us; I just really need his confidence! And, of course, he’s important to me purely based off the fact I wanna smooch him silly. But… there’s another part of it too:

Kara, to me, represents two of the most influential aspects of my life; self-shipping and Oso-San. He may not be my first F/O, technically; Ichimatsu was my first official F/O, and Dororo may as well have been an unofficial F/O since I was a kid. But, Kara is the earliest on the list, he somehow came back on the list after being removed during a rough-ass time, and he has caused the most brainrot without a damn doubt. In a way, he kinda summarizes the entire self-ship experience for me. And, ya know, the Oso-San representation is self explanatory. I have other “most influential” franchises, like Homestuck or FNAF, but Oso-San is the most persistent hyperfixation I have. It got me through high-school & through the pandemic, and it’s by far the series I revisit most.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot recently, and I realized that Kara even represents my closest friendships (well, 2 of them anyway!). The two fixations he represents are closely tied to my friends; I wouldn’t be hitched to him if it wasn’t for one friend, and I wouldn’t even know about him if it weren’t for the other. I still remember watching clips of the show with @vhshipping , which actually caused dreams that literally gaslit me into watching the show NWKEKD; we ended up binging a bit of the show together, which I think solidified its place as a fixation in me lol. And I remember @self-shipping-payaso asking about the lil men I was posting about on my story, leading to them helping me realize that they could be F/Os! It’s crazy that a single character can bring back so many wonderful memories with such wonderful people. I hope those two realize how damn important they are to me, outside of their wingmaning as well! They better! I’m sending this to them so they should! You! You two! I fucking love you! 👋🥹

Needless to say, this has greatly increased his value as a character for me.

But… the question might pop up of “why are you talking about all of this in a birthday post?”, and the short answer is that “this is my blog and I’ll do whatever I want!”. But, if it wouldn’t kill me to be serious for five minutes, well, I guess it’s to showcase why I bother to make birthday posts about the bros in the first place. I usually don’t make big deals about fictional character birthdays, but these guys have had such an influence on me that I almost feel obligated to do it for them NAKDMDKFK. Maybe this is all my way of trying to justify why I’m so attached to them, idk.

Truth be told, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly explain everything they mean to me, but this was certainly a valiant effort!

So uh… TL:DR… Happy Birthday to the Matsunos~!

[ashtonsunshine]

I mean i liked checking it out and pretty much was into it idk jobless 💀 (but im glad im changing i literally ignore these stuff now as much as can... still nosey but its getting better lol).

Unfortunately i just like to know shit but after a while it sounds weird and almost repetition of the same things that happened long time ago.

I don't get the ones that try to do or change something about things like those are strangers to you ykwim? Just reading the gossip is a thing but trying to intervene like... what are you going to do? 😭

And it got really weird like doxxing and shit so thats not right... specially with a baby on the way its just too much (like weirdos wishing harm on a baby?!!? absolutely insane!)

Realizing to focus on what you actually like is way better and more fun.

But i always notice how ashton does the most for this fandom yet he's always the most hated in these type of blogs, it just breaks my heart he's very passionate about what he does and he gets shitted on for it, being called pretentious for showing his love... does he get a lil silly goofy? Yes but it's sweet idk what ppl see and make up something negative from it and when he uses big words? Lol i like adding new words to my vocabulary that i'll probably never use.

Sorry this is very long and honestly you dont have to answer this but i just was so much in (surprised im not blocked 💀) and then one day i was like well.. this is stupid and annoying so i kinda stopped.

Saw you went to a 5sos show days ago i hope you had a great time 🤍 and again you dont have to answer this at all but your post got me thinking a little... one of the first ppl i followed on here and i think your hello/goodmorning posts are very sweet and the way you always post them is sweeter. i hope you are having a great day/night from wherever you are 👍🏻

I understand the human need to know and be nosy, but I've learnt that sometimes it's better to be ignorant in order to be happy and enjoy things in peace.

I see this dynamic at work every day. People gossip about others because they have this need of talking shit for no reason other than being low-key jealous of their colleagues' workplace situation. It's as if people are envious of other's happiness and become petty about it.

Drama and gossip are addicting. It's like an adrenaline rush. But, ultimately, like every addiction, it starts consuming you from within and disrupting your life.

I'll never understand how some people have so much energy to run these types of accounts that harbour so much negativity, when some days I don't even have energy to exist right.

I've read so much shit about this band over the last decade on the internet, and you're right, Ashton somehow always gets it worse simply because he refuses to play the game and chooses to be himself no matter what. Him and his big words, and his sarcasm, and his snarky comments. It's one of the reasons I love him. Fuck everyone! Be yourself and the right people will come to you and stay with you.

But you know what makes my skin crawl? When the blogs are like "free speech", as if free speech means you're allowed to say whatever you want without consequences. It angers me when people use free speech as an excuse to be unpleasant and mean, because that's not what free speech is. Free speech means you can't be jailed for voicing an opinion; not that you can't be a target of criticism for it.

Only people who haven't had the right of free speech taken away from them do that. There was a heavy dictatorship in my country until 1974 where people would be grabbed on the streets by undercover state police if they gathered in groups larger than three and questioned for conspiracy against the government. Some people were tortured. Some people disappeared. Others were killed. All that for voicing an opinion. My parents lived through this shit, so I don't take my right of free speech lightly, and neither should any of you.

I'm getting political now, so I'm gonna go.

Thank you for the sweet words. 🫶🏻 I'm glad you're out of that dark place.

[goldenguillotines]

aaand 2, 8, 21, 23, and 29 for Paw2paw,

◇No art of them.. yet!! ◇

2. How did they get together?

Childhood sweethearts kinda thing! Lapoal and Yani are both the same age.. grew up in the forest/rocky mountains. Kinda fated to happen? Or at least that's how they view it.. I know Lapoal definitely thinks she's kinda a treasure? Very lucky to have her.. and Yani loves having Lapoal around!! It was pretty stupid and goofy, how they realized their feelings for one another. Kind a "oh!" "Are we Moirails?" "Do you want to be?" and it was history. Seems that no matter what Yani is always running after Lapoal with open arms supporting him.

8. Who tends to worry the most?

Easily Lapoal.. Yani does worry but it's in a very immature type of way.. but her concerns are always there. However, Lapoal is worried Yani might get herself into a heap of trouble.. She's mischievous and kinda naive. So occasionally, he has to swoop in to help.

21. What do they like when going out for food?

Yani will literally eat everything and anything. And.. Lapoal isn't very accustomed to city food or more modern things.. So I'd like to think they tend to like things that their parents or lusus used to bring around. Mainly Asian style cuisine or Indian cuisine!

23. What do they do when they’re bored and together?

WRESTLE...Cuddle and Nap! Lapoal is probably of the few people that can actually handle Yani's strength. He might not look it, but Yani packs a lot of strength.. and Lapoal is a little on the smaller side too but he's a purple/blue cusp. He can handle it! It's always playful and ends up with someone pinned and giggling.

Naps and cuddles are always a must. Yani loves to sleep.. Lapoal likes his cat naps too!

29. What do they do after a hard day at work?

Both are incredibly jobless- However, usually when they do their chores and tasks around their homes. They bathe together, wash my back I'll wash yours thing. Yani likes how Lapoal pays extra special attention to their hair. Mega tail wags!!

[rosellabascomacapinlac]

Hey you demonic Junko Kawano and your avatar goofy mayor’s son suikoden boy! You thought my face is fake because you think it's the effect of heavy make up, so you think I deserve a hideous inferior ignorant man will impregnate me to give birth an ugly monsters! I am still a virgin, you and your wretched friends will pay everything for what you’ve done to me! You think I am ugly because you believed I always wear make up all of the time! Those lowly hideous breeding rapists jobless cannibals had always came to me, who dare to dominant me, my life, and my uterus, do I deserves those monsters? But they are all rubbish! What the heck do you think about me, a trash lover?! I am no trash lover! So you always liked me to be a rape victim for your greedy business. I am still a virgin, I felt sorry for you, then go to hell.

*grabs Junko Kawano and threw the demonic witch on the tough wall and punched the demon on the back*

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: Goofy (Disney)

Favorite thing about them: How funny he is, obviously, but also how sweet, friendly, and earnest he is, which makes him truly likable and more than just a one-note bumbling idiot.

Least favorite thing about them: Probably his well-meaning yet questionable parenting choices in A Goofy Movie that make Max miserable. Though of course the moody teenage Max is at fault too, and once they finally have a heart-to-heart talk, they come to a beautiful resolution.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I'm friendly most of the time.

*I can be clumsy.

*I'm at least a little eccentric.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm not tall or skinny

*I'm not nearly as accident prone as he is.

*I'm not an anthropomorphic male dog.

Favorite line:

From one episode of Goof Troop:

"If there's one thing I don't like about falling off a roof, it's the pain involved."

As Marley's Ghost in Mickey's Christmas Carol:

"And so as punishment, I'm forced to carry these heavy chains for eternity!... Maybe even longer!"

From A Goofy Movie, his response to Max insisting that he's grown up and has his own life now:

"I know that! I just wanted to be part of it! You're my son, Max. No matter how big you get, you'll always be my son."

From Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas:

"Of course there's a Santy. Otherwise, we'd have a lot of jobless elves running around."

And from Lonesome Ghosts, a line that either inspired Ray Parker Jr. when he wrote the theme for Ghostbusters, or else is a hilarious coincidence:

"I ain't a-scared of no ghosts!"

brOTP: Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and his son Max.

OTP: Max's mother, whoever she might have been, and sometimes Clarabelle Cow. (Yes, I also know about Sylvia from An Extremely Goofy Movie, but I've never actually seen that movie, so it doesn't feel quite right to list her too.)

nOTP: Max.

Random headcanon: His two favorite foods are pancakes (since he sings about them at one point in Mickey and the Beanstalk and eats them in the breakfast scene in A Goofy Movie) and homegrown tomatoes (since he sang a cute song about them on the '90s kids album Funny Food Songs). Sometimes he combines them: for example, he makes BLT sandwiches with pancakes instead of bread, or griddled tomatoes with butter and maple syrup.

Unpopular opinion: I'd like to see an explanation of what happened to Max's mother that didn't kill her off. I know it's generally accepted fanon that she died, but in the first place, there are too many dead mothers in media, and secondly, the idea that a character as happy and silly as Goofy should be a widower feels so sad and wrong. But then, the alternative of a divorce that ends with Max's mother no longer in his life might be worse. The only explanation that wouldn't be incredibly sad for Goofy would be if Max was adopted and Goofy was always a single parent. But that doesn't seem likely: all evidence points to Max being Goofy's biological son, since he has his buck teeth and his laugh. Maybe it's just as well that Max's mother has never been mentioned at all.

Song I associate with them:

"The World Owes Me a Living" (although it was first sung by the Grasshopper in The Grashopper and the Ants, who just happened to be voiced by Pinto Colvig using his Goofy voice, it later became a signature song for Goofy himself)

"On the Open Road"

"Nobody Else But You"

Favorite picture of them:

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

“twitter user @evnptrsgf who was in her feelings that we were talking about them making fun of natalie’s appearance. dumb as hell 😭”

Oh I saw that. Not a single sensible statement was made in her tweets. Apparently shaming people who make fun of someone’s appearance is jobless behavior, not spending your time making fun of someone. And apparently “nobody is innocent” and just having a fan account is a part of the “problem.” Which problem that is I don’t know, but I would say bullying Natalie is a problem which doesn’t happen on here and doesn’t happen on other fan accounts sooo….

right? what do they think the “problem” is? no one cares that they have a fan account.. the problem is that you use that account to spread hate. then we have goofy asking who cares when she’s the one who really cares, but is too much of a coward to say shit on main.. tried to go anon, both her and jessie, before getting called out 🤦🏻‍♀️ “fun with your friends” to these idiots is being absolutely repugnant on social media. who raised these gremlins?