guys i just heard a minecraft cave noise in real life
change your settings to peaceful it'll be ok
k hold on
where are my parents
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I remember one time I got INSANELY high off of edibles while playing Among Us, and it quickly became apparent to the other players online. I forget how honestly but literally anything "sus" I did was ignored by everyone because I was so fucking high. I tested this theory by standing in front of a body and the person that actually reported it didn't even mention me. The funniest part was when I was trying to do wires, I kept fucking up over and over again, so I was just standing in front of wires for actual minutes trying to figure it out. A small crowd of players gathered around me to watch and would get mad every time someone reported a body or emergency meeting because "she's never going to get her tasks done if you keep interrupting them." I don't think anyone cared about winning at that point, they just wanted to see the high crew mate succeed in her tasks.
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a guy shoots at me with a sniper rifle and I catch the bullet in my teeth and eat it, but he saw that coming and put poison in the bullet, but I saw that coming and drank an antidote ahead of time, but all those weird chemicals still give me a really bad kidney stone a few days later and I pass out from pain and crash my car into, by pure coincidence, the sniper
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𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭
pairings: forensic scientistreader x gojo
the infirmary's basement lab reeked of cursed energy and formaldehyde—a combination that would make most sorcerers nauseous, but to you? it was practically aromatherapy.
you're elbow-deep in curse residue when satoru materializes in your laboratory doorway, that signature grin plastered across his face. even with his blindfold on, you can feel his eyes tracking your every movement as you carefully peel back the layers of a grade 1 curse's anatomy.
"got something special for you," he sings, holding up a sealed container that pulses with cursed energy. "fresh special grade. still warm."
your head snaps up so fast you nearly drop your scalpel. "you didn't."
"oh, but I did." he strolls in, unbearably smug, and sets the container on your examination table. through the reinforced glass, you can see the twisted remains of something that was probably terrifying when it was alive. "took out a whole nest in shibuya. saved the best one just for my favorite little psychopath."
the cursed energy pattern was fascinating—you could already see where its technique had manifested physically in the tissue structure. and your heart does something embarrassing in your chest. while other people get flowers or chocolates, gojo satoru brings you corpses of the most grotesque curses in existence because he knows it makes you happier than anything else could.
"you're insane," you breathe, already pulling on fresh gloves, your previous specimen completely forgotten.
"says the person who keeps curse organs in labeled jars like a trophy collection." he leans against your table, watching you work with that insufferable fondness. "so... about my payment?"
"your payment?" you're already examining the curse through the container, mind racing with possibilities. "you're the strongest sorcerer alive. what could you possibly need from me?"
he taps his cheek. "kiss. right here. non-negotiable."
"you're ridiculous."
"and you're stalling." he bends down slightly, presenting his cheek like he's being completely reasonable. "come on. those are the terms. one special grade curse equals one kiss. I don't make the rules."
"you literally just made that rule up."
"did I though? pretty sure this has been our arrangement for months now."
he's not wrong. somewhere between the third grade 1 curse and the cursed womb he'd brought you, this had become your routine. satoru kills curses, brings them to you, and collects his "compensation" like he's not powerful enough to take anything he wants in the world.
the truth you're both dancing around: he doesn't want anything else. just you, your terrible fascination with dissecting the darkest things in their world, and these stolen moments in your lab where you're both exactly the kind of crazy that understands each other.
you pull off one glove and cup his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek. his skin is warm, and you feel him smile wider beneath your touch.
"there," you murmur. "payment rendered."
"generous as always." but he doesn't move away. "want some company while you work? i cleared my schedule."
"you mean you're dodging yaga again."
"can't it be both?"
you roll your eyes but can't help smiling as you turn back to your new specimen. "fine. but don't touch anything. last time you contaminated three samples."
"that was one time—"
"three. samples." he snickers in response.
"now let me work," you continue "i want to see if its domain structure left physical markers on the brain tissue."
satoru watched you make the first incision with the same fondness most people reserved for sunsets. "marry me."
"ask me again when you bring me a fully intact cursed womb."
"that's not a no~" it really wasn't.
and then he laughs at your scowl, that genuine sound he only makes around you, and settles in to watch you work. and if his hand finds yours between incisions, if he steals more kisses than curses delivered, well—that's just another part of your arrangement that neither of you are ready to name yet.
after all, only someone as crazy as gojo satoru could fall for someone who gets excited about dissecting special grade curses.
and only someone as crazy as you could fall right back.
Reblogged halfway-happyyy
unfortunately i wasn't made for casual, i wanna understand your soul, i wanna know why you act the way you do, i wanna know all the bad things you've done so i can love you more
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Heeeeyyyy friends! I’m looking to add some more Marvel villains/antagonists to the shop! And I’d love suggestions!
Some faves these last few months have been The Spot, Magneto (I know he’s only a villain sometimes but y’all love him), VenomDoctor Doom, Galactus…and I just added some more X-Men villains. Who else would you like to see?
Shop is here. Love y’all!
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thinking about using clark as your own personal heater, or rather a blanket.
on nights like this, quiet, freezing, you're grateful for your big warm boyfriend. you don't know how he manages to retain this much heat, when you're ice cold beside him. maybe it's his size or some metahuman alien ability that you’re not privy to but you don't think about it much when you tangle your legs with his under the covers, warming your limbs instantly.
your pleased sigh muffles into his chest, where your face is stuffed, cheek pressed against the soft material of his pyjama shirt. he vibrates under you, an amused little chuckle behind closed lips. then he hisses, a quiet thing when your frigid toes curl around some part of his calf.
he inhales, “i wish you'd wear socks, might help keep you warm.”
“we've been through this, clark. it's uncomfortable, too many layers, feel like i'm suffocating,” you once again muffle into him, nasally because your nose is snug against his sternum. he doesn't know how you're breathing, talk about suffocating.
“i know, honey,” he appeases you with a stifled smile, despite the socks covering his own feet.
mhmm. you shift slightly, hand soft against his belly. nimble fingers had searched for heat a little while ago and found it under his shirt, spreading across his skin to cover as much surface area as possible. he leaves you there, rubbing his own hand over yours through the fabric.
“still cold?” he murmurs against your temple. you hum your agreement, attempting to squirm your way closer to him. it's no use, there's no more space between your bodies to escape the cold. he pulls you that impossible inch anyways, you’re almost completely on top of him.
he can't seem to sleep, not when that sliver of guilt snags at him every time a shiver passes down your spine. he has an idea, one he's not entirely sure he’ll be able to execute but wants to attempt anyway, for your sake. he carefully pulls himself from under you and you whine, "clark, what are y-”
“hold on, baby.”
swift as ever, he raises himself up on two arms and climbs over your body. with his torso planted on top of yours and legs bracketing your own, he lays on you, like a blanket. his spine remains stiff, hesitant.
“is this okay?” he murmurs, soft against your neck.
you pause for a moment, taking in how his warmth disperses even better like this, his weight grounding. clark feels the way you exhale, slow and satisfied, under him. your arms curl around his back with a whispered, “it's perfect.”
he allows himself to melt then, he tucks his hands under your shoulders and buries his head further into the pillows. he doesn't know how long this will last, as he consciously hovers just a bit so as to not crush you but it's enough. god, it’s enough.
so much so that by the time the sun is out, and the two of you have had an undisturbed sleep, clark is splayed out beside you, asleep on his stomach with a heavy arm across your body. you think you might be a little too warm now, the light streaming through your curtains combatting the cold morning. still, you remain entangled with him, legs curled similarly to how they were last night.