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gojorgeous · 3 months

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"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!”

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said.

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind.

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers.

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.”

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path.

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back.

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket.

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.”

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?”

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t.

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s.

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?”

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying.

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong.

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches.

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment.

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you.

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike.

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now.

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when�� you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him.

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside.

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it.

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet.

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face.

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease.

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo.

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night.

“Yeah. Long day at work.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?”

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you.

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there.

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance.

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.”

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?”

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.”

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life.

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight.

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around.

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder.

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines.

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs.

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.”

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool.

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone.

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride.

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention.

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish?

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman.

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself.

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive.

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?”

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.”

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours.

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps.

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says.

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet.

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.”

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?”

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?”

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like.

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then…

“So, what’s your technique”

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual.

“Bet I could find out.”

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.”

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…”

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.”

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks.

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job…

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.”

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?”

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth.

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing.

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?”

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal.

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.”

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to.

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit.

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now.

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone.

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid.

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines.

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle.

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans.

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever.

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles.

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to.

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs.

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now.

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please…

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land.

Fuck.

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework.

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly.

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight.

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it.

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better.

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?”

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over.

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.”

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls.

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.”

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see.

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs.

Your lips part. “You knew?”

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?”

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him.

But you have one thing on him.

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.”

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.”

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.”

You freeze. He notices.

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?”

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–”

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation.

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.”

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo.

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?”

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced.

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display.

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin.

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?”

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree.

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…”

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides.

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone.

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again.

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.”

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.”

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased.

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.”

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.”

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue.

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right.

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you.

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault.

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes.

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away.

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?”

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone.

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick.

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole.

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out.

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.”

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages.

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut.

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.”

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you.

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth.

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him.

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.”

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same.

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant.

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs.

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind.

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be.

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you.

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death.

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest.

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?”

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.”

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?”

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe.

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.”

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?”

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been.

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free.

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position.

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind.

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you.

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.”

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @fushironi, @enchantedsylveon, @keiva1000, @complexivelovely, @httpstoyosi, @bbyxxm, @6kabuki.

link: 1k followers event

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

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daytaker · 3 months

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The Gang React to You Breaking Your Ankle

Lucifer

"This was bound to happen sooner or later."

I mean, really, with all the stunts you play with his brothers and that sorcerer, it's more surprising that you didn't break anything before now. Thank goodness your room is on the ground floor. Now, here is a schedule of where you need to be and when, along with the brother who is your designated companion at all times to ensure you don't get stuck somewhere or fall over and break something else. This is a rotating position so stop fighting all of you!

Mammon

"Holy shit, humans break easy, huh?"

Assuming for the moment that Mammon didn't accidentally get your ankle broken by pulling some stupid stunt for Devilgram clout and involving you in it, he'll be extra careful with you for a little bit. People keep jostling you in the hall! Don't they realize you're basically made of glass and paper?! He'll clear the halls for you to hobble by with your crutches. Yep, you're earning all sorts of new friends.

Leviathan

"E-sports are the best activity when you're injured."

What a convenient excuse to drag you to his room more often than usual for anime marathons and all-night gaming sessions. Like Mammon, he's a little uneasy about this revelation about just how delicate you are, but nobody gets injured playing video games. He's basically protecting you from your next inevitable accident.

Satan

"Stop trying to do so much on your own."

Satan acts extremely annoyed when he sees you trying to hop somewhere without your crutches or lifting anything more than fifteen pounds unaided. Of course, he's just worried about you and expressing that in the most practical way he can. He repeatedly reminds you of advice on improving your recovery rate he found in medical books and the blogs of reputable physical therapists (he always checks into their credentials).

Asmodeus

"Poor thing! Let me spoil you!"

And that's basically what he does, whenever he gets the opportunity. This is a great excuse to get some much needed R&R, in his opinion, so the two of you will be visiting spas and getting massages and you aren't walking anywhere anymore, he is one of the Rulers of the Underworld and you are going to be carried on a litter, so help him Gardonus.

Beelzebub

"You need to eat well to get your strength back."

Prepare yourself for Beel's version of "eating well". You only had three eggs for breakfast? You'll never heal at that rate. Have another six and some bacon. Here's a protein shake. It's designed for demons so it's probably a little grittier than the soft stuff from the human world but it's exactly what you need. No, he doesn't have any science to back this up. Yes, he expects you to clean your plate.

Belphegor

"Of course you got hurt, running around all the time. You should just relax with me."

Little did you know this was all part of Belphegor's master plan...

What a perfect opportunity to spend every second of the day with you. Now that you're forced to sit around and avoid being too active, he has you right where he wants you (specifically, under the blankets with him while he sleeps). He'll remind you at every opportunity that you normally run yourself ragged, and you've earned some time to laze around. And now that you're injured, you have the perfect excuse!

Diavolo

"Your poor human bones... My home is always open to you if you need somewhere more convenient to stay. Please take care of yourself, in the meantime."

Rest assured, he will provide you with all transportation necessary to and from RAD. Or perhaps you would like to try remote classes? Leviathan finds them productive! And if you need anything, please let him know. He'll be in touch about five times a day just to make sure you remember that.

Barbatos

"I am only a phone call away should you require my assistance."

And he will be on call at all hours of the day and night, just in case. You'll be treated like royalty when you visit the castle too, of course. (Even more like royalty than usual, that is.)

Solomon

"Oh, that? Here."

He just magics your ankle better. There, there, little apprentice. He's surprised you didn't do that yourself.

Simeon

"What are you carrying? I'll take it for you. No, I insist!"

Simeon will be a perfect gentleman, helping you up and down stairs and carrying your books and shopping for you. He's very concerned about you somehow re-injuring yourself, and even when you're alright to walk without crutches anymore, he still *really wishes* you'd use them for an extra week or two, just to be on the safe side.

Luke

"You did what to your ankle?! Ankles can do that?!

Congratulations, you've introduced Luke to the concept of broken bones, and he will find the human skeleton creepy and gross for the rest of his life.

--------

@thefandomthings I know this isn't exactly what your ask was, but it's similar, so I hope you like this!

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ao3topshipsbracket · 6 months

Text

prompted by nothing in particular, things I learned that I'd pass down as advice to anyone intending to do a large multifandom bracket tournament:

Imagine your bracket inspiring wild enough discourse that someone makes a Hall of the Mountain King edit. No, really, imagine it. Imagine that going down in your activity feed. Imagine being known across the site for that. Does this prospect fill you, on some level, with delight? If not, you may not be cut out for a large multifandom bracket tournament.

Do not try to do a large multifandom bracket alone. You need a team, and the bigger your audience gets the more of a team you need. You especially need a team if you're potentially working with a bunch of things you've never heard of. For a smaller bracket with an activity feed that's more reasonable to keep track of, you don't necessarily need multiple blog admins, but you at the very least need a groupchat so you aren't making all the decisions alone.

Your guys might lose. In fact, your guys will probably lose, since there can only be one winner. The sooner you accept this the better for all involved.

You are the mod. It is your job to be impartial, no matter what. You can hate and rage against one of your options in private. In public? The things you hate are valid contenders exactly like every other. If you really can't bring yourself to be at the very least neutral about something in public, just don't include it.

This also means that you have to be evenhanded. You can reveal your personal biases once finals are set in stone but if you're perceived as making policies that favor your guys that shit gets ugly and it gets ugly fast. Remember: everyone can see the vote percentages perfectly well on the post! The winner of the vote gets highlighted! People can see these things!

Keep anon off. If it looks like it's going to get at all heated, turn blog comments off and keep them off. Don't publish any type of ask you aren't okay with getting more of.

DO NOT RESPOND TO THE TAGS. You can respond to asks, if you really want to, and you've thought through the consequences, but do not respond to the tags. This is the other reason that you need a groupchat, ideally a groupchat full of likeminded individuals who have good takes and are fairly levelheaded: bringing bad or annoying or even just funny takes to the groupchat will give you the strength to not respond to the tags, the serenity to not respond to the tags, and the wisdom to not respond to the tags.

You cannot prevent voter fraud. You can accept voter fraud, or you can have a meltdown about voter fraud. In a small bracket (votes in the triple digits) you can ask people nicely not to fraud, and this will probably even work if you're not in mcyt fandom, but once you get to the tens of thousands it does not work at all. Even if nobody actually frauds, it's easy to accuse the other side of fraud and difficult to prove innocence; people can and will abuse this. Accepting fraud is literally always going to be less stress for you and I highly recommend it. Also, it's funny.

Try to establish policies before things come up, rather than reacting in the heat of the moment. Once you have made a policy, stick to it. Relatedly, when you are making policies, ask yourself very seriously if they're policies you're willing to stick to.

Things you will likely need policies on: Do you publish propaganda? Do you reblog propaganda? What is the line for being an asshole beyond which you block? What do you do in case of a tie?

"There can't be that many fans of [whatever]" is always wrong. There can always be that many fans of whatever.

#not a poll

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feluka · 5 days

Note

Hi, I don’t rlly know how to explain this but I’ll try haha.

I recently found out I have Egyptian and specifically Coptic ancestry, through family tree making, matching with cousins, gedmatch, dna testing, etc and now personal confirmation from family/ancestors.

The problem is idrk who was the Coptic ones in my family as my dad died when I was four and I’ve had no contact with his family at all since. I know it came from his mother, but I can’t even give you her name let alone where she was from, or anything. Although I want to learn more and reconnect and eventually find out who they were exactly. It’s just hard because my dad’s living family has no contact w us and since he’s dead, it’s been hard to get records as well.

I would like to learn more about Coptic culture and Egypt in general but I am worried about people considering me a ‘culture thief’ since I only recently. found this out a few months ago but didn’t really have 100% confirmation until like 2 weeks ago. And even though I can prove genetically I have ancestry Coptic I can’t really say who my ancestors were which would probably make some skeptical.

Especially because I am African American and there already exists a rift between Egyptians and AAs bc of hoteps who claim Egyptian culture/claim Egyptians are just Arabs who ‘stole’ Egyptian culture. I want to be respectful but I’m unsure how to navigate this.

I guess I’m asking if you have any idea how I should move forward, or if you know of any resources to learn more? I want to be respectful, but I would also love to start to reconnect even if I don’t know where my ancestors were exactly from other than ‘Egypt’.

Hello! First of all, this is both a very respectful and a very personal ask, so I want to thank you for trusting me with that. I hope my answer can help you find peace with the matter a little.

Instead of trying to figure out if the overall sentiment of trying to reconnect is harmful or not, because there's really no answer to that in and of itself, and instead stop at every individual action taken to reconnect and asking: could this be harming anybody?

For example, if you'd like to pick up Coptic language lessons, could this action possibly be harmful to anyone? Not really. Is reading about Coptic culture and engaging with what survived of it in modern day harmful? I don't think so.

The only possible thing that I can think of that might be harmful is, I have awful experiences with certain diaspora Copts who have never really engaged with the community nor know much of it, who suddenly butt in conversations about Coptic politics in Egypt like they're an expert on it despite never having been or known anything about it themselves, but from the way you've written this ask I doubt you're the kind of person to do that anyway, seeing as you're being very respectful and that you recognize that there's some dissonance in your experience (which there's no shame in, but the self awareness is helpful as a guide of when to participate and when not to!)

I don't know if I said this before on this blog but, to my knowledge, the matter of the hotep subculture entails far more than just questioning the Egyptian identity, and seeing as I'm neither African American nor Black at all, I don't think it's my place to comment on it. I invite any of my Black followers to contribue to intra-community discussion in the reblogs/comments for you to read, though!

All I can promise you is that even if the notion that the population of Egypt was displaced rather than converted during the Arab conquest of Egypt is false, there still are Black Egyptians and there always have been. Sadly I'm sure there will always be people who try to make you feel like a pretender, but that is true of so many things and regardless of what you do, so always remember thay Black people have always been part of Egypt's history, and that nobody is entitled to know your personal details or family history and you don't need to disclose anything you're not comfortable with to prove anything to them.

As for resources, there's always a lot on Egyptology in general, so the specific topics that would be helpful to be aware of are: modern history of Copts (or Copts post the Arab Conquest of Egypt), the persecution of Copts, the decline of the Coptic language and the efforts to revive the language. The last two are especially pertinent nowadays.

Lastly you can always ask other Copts! I may not have all the answers but I'm sure between me and my followers we can find something helpful for you if you're trying to find a specific resource of have more questions. (The scarcity of resources is something we *all* have to deal with, even us here in Egypt, I'm afraid, but it's not a lost cause! You'd be surprised how much is out there on internet archives.)

I hope you have a lovely day. ♥️

#asks

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rachelsfav-queer · 4 months

Text

I can’t sleep because my nose is all plugged up and also I slept in late this morning sooooo…

Late night Wenclair thoughts? I may smooth these out into a proper fic sometime so please don’t steal any of this! Thank you!

Below the cut just cause there’s a lot lol. All sfw stuff here, don’t worry

So, I just saw this post from @barblaz-arts with some of their sketches (sorry, I couldn’t find any pronouns on your blog and didn’t want to assume anything) and one of them was a “get-along shirt” shirt. So that made me think of Enid making a two person sweater for her and Wednesday to wear and Wednesday “begrudgingly” wearing it all the time lol. So she just constantly is trying to indirectly get Enid to ask her to wear it, cause she doesn’t want to admit that she actually loves wearing it cause of how close it allows her to be to Enid. Enid of course knows that Wednesday loves wearing it and why, but lets the seer think she’s being sneaky. (Thanks for the inspo barblaz, lol)

NEXT THOUGHT!

What about Wenclair’s first time sleeping in the same bed? Like, I imagine it’s probably a bit awkward and stiff for them. But I think that it’s actually Wednesday who breaks the tension by randomly blurting out something like “I want you to hold me… please” and like, she’s blushing, thinking she’s just ruined it all but Enid just smiles rolls over, opening her arms out to invite her to cuddle close. Ugh, can you imagine Wednesday slowly curling up against Enid as she becomes more comfortable in her gentle embrace?? 🥺🥺🥺

NEXT THOUGHT!

So, y’all remember that scene where after just barely meeting Enid, Wednesday opens up about her traumatic experience as a child that literally shaped who she currently is as a person, a characterization that so many people have criticized endlessly because they didn’t actually pay attention to this scene that explained explicitly why Wednesday acts the way she does and that it’s not just “teenage whiny ‘I hate my parents’ type angsty” stuff but actually an interesting and new take on these classic characters because these characters have been around for decades and it’s hard to come up with new stories while also keeping the characters the exact same…….

Sorry, I ranted again… sorry.

Anyway, y’all remember that scene, right? Well, I absolutely love it and what it implies for Wenclair. Because it shows how Enid is the only person who Wednesday shows true vulnerability to. Not even T*ler or X*vier with the infuriating love triangle they had. She comes close to it with Eugene and Pugsley, but only with Enid do we see that raw vulnerability. And I really like that.

So, to the actual point, I think that Wednesday actually has a lot of that throughout their relationship journey or whatever you wanna call it lol. Wednesday opens up to Enid and Enid only about she struggles with certain things and how she is truly afraid that her issues will end up pushing Enid away again, and for good this time. And Enid actually talks Wednesday through all this seriously. She tells her that yes, her behavior needs to be adjusted to no longer be toxic, but also assures her that she’s going to be there for her. She won’t tolerate genuine toxicity, but she will be understanding and patient with mistakes. Because that’s what Wednesday really needs and we see that in the show actually. Enid is the perfect deuteragonist to Wednesday because she holds her accountable in a way nobody else does in the show. She doesn’t dance around anything, calling Wednesday out for her sometimes toxic behavior but doing it in a compassionate way.

ITS BECAUSE SHE UNDERSTANDS WEDNESDAY IN A WAY NOBODY ELSE DOES EXCEPT HER FAMILY!!!! BECAUSE WEDNESDAY OPENED UP TO HER ALONE ABOUT HER PAST TRAUMA!!!!!!! they’re so fucking canon it’s not even funny

Anyway, this is all just for the point of Wednesday opening up to Enid, late at night, when neither of them can sleep. Wednesday because she needs to get these things off her chest and Enid because her girlfriend is struggling and she wants to be there for her in any way she can. Gods, I love them so muchhhhhh!!!!!!

NEXT THOUGHT!

On the thought of Wenclair being awake late at night, I believe with every bit of my being that whether you think “Wednesday is the top” or “Enid is the top” either way, Wednesday will either be little spoon or will be curled up against Enid’s side with Enid’s arms around her. Whatever way they’re cuddling, Enid is in someway holding Wednesday close. This right here goes hand in hand with my next thought, which is that Wednesday is very clearly autistic-coded and it’s almost painfully obvious lol. So, this means that Wednesday really likes the pressure of being held tight. She likes weighted blankets but not nearly as much as she likes being squeezed by Enid. That is all lol.

NEXT THOUGHT!

Autistic Wednesday and AuDHD Enid supporting each other’s neurodivergence wholeheartedly. Enid is always carrying around noise-canceling earbuds and headphones for Wednesday. The earbuds are for when Wednesday just needs basic protection from background noise, which is most times and the headphones are for situations when she needs something more heavy duty. So, when Wednesday’s getting overstimulated by the world and people around her. And with Enid’s touch being the only touch that Wednesday accepts without any sort of discomfort (yes I know that Gomez and Pugsley make contact with her too, but she looks slightly uncomfortable with it when they do it, compared to whenever Enid touches her, she doesn’t even seem fazed, not even when she’s a bit more excited and isn’t touching very lightly. There’s a clear difference) I think that Enid has a sort of “escape plan” where Enid will pull Wednesday away from situations where she’s uncomfortable. She’s always gentle, yet firm. Firm both for Wednesday’s sake because she needs the grounding but also to show anyone around to STAY BACK! Mmm, Enid being instinctually protective over Wednesday when she’s overwhelmed. Along with all that, Enid is basically a personal guard dog for Wednesday, keeping a clear distance limit for anyone around them, to ensure nobody bumps into Wednesday or touches her.

On the other hand, I think that Enid probably has texture issues with foods. So, Wednesday will act as a kind of “taste tester” but for textures whenever they come across new foods that Enid may want to try. Basically, Wednesday checks first to see if certain foods will trigger Enid’s texture issues or if they’re safe for her to try. Wednesday knows by heart what textures bother Enid and so is distinctly capable of handling this task and does it happily. And for Enid’s ADHD, Wednesday doesn’t particularly understand Enid’s struggles but is by far the single most supportive and understanding person to Enid’s symptoms. Whether it’s Time Blindness or Executive Dysfunction or whatever issues she’s dealing with, Wednesday either acts as an assistant to help Enid work through it, or if she’s unable to for whatever reason, Wednesday doesn’t let Enid for even a single moment feel guilty about it, reassuring her entirely.

Basically, they’re each other’s best support and they work together to help each other!

NEXT THOUGHT!

I HC Wednesday being into like, heavy rock/metal music. More specifically, I think she loves Ghost (definitely introduced to them by Yoko, same goes for all the other rock music she listens to) and so I think that Wednesday and Enid actually influence each other’s music tastes, so Enid’s listening to some of Wednesday’s rock playlists and Wednesday’s listening to Enid’s kpop playlists. At first, both do it simply are interested in being involved in each other’s interests. But, they both find themselves relating to the music they’re listening to and actually loving it just as much as the other does.

All of this is to say,,,,,,, Wenclair going to a Ghost ritual wearing the merch and Wenclair going to a kpop show (sorry I don’t listen to kpop so I don’t know any bands) wearing the merch.

Please someone draw either or both of these I am begging on my hands and knees please please please pleaseeeeeeeeee

Whew, OKAYYYY!!! I think that’s all I got lol. It’s almost 2 in the morning and I still don’t feel even slightly tired… this is painful lol

I hope y’all enjoy my sleep-deprived brainrotted wenclair thoughts lol. Feel free to share your thoughts on any of these either in the reblogs, replies, or my askbox! I’d love to know that I’m not alone in these thoughts and I’m not just losing my mind…… pls

#rachel talks #wenclair #wenclair brainrot #wednesday x enid #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #autistic wednesday addams #autistic enid sinclair #adhd enid sinclair #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix

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kerubimcrepin · 30 days

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Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 16]

Finally, we arrive at my most favourite scene of the entire movie: The battle against Atcham. And my most favorite music, too. Seriously, if you're reading this blog, and hadn't watched the movie yet, what are you doing? At least watch this scene!

youtube

Once again, we see Bakara fighting someone who is much older than her and has been to at least a single war.

She has absolutely no element of surprise, and he enters the fight on his own terms, — attacking her from behind, because her reaction time is way worse than his.

Just as in the last confrontation, he dodges and parries her blows. Mostly dodges. He's more agile in air than Kerubim, and gets to his enemy faster. As a trade-off, Kerubim attacked more often in between parrying Julith's blows, because his nunchucks are a sort of ranged weapon.

As already said — she is absolutely no match to him.

There are many implications here: first of all, Atcham may or may not like women. Second of all, he may or may not even have preferences, despite nobody likely wanting him fr.

This info is very important for lore discussions, everyone.

This battle was him playing with her. And he removes her from the battlefield just as nonchalantly as he won.

youtube

And here is my most favourite track in the entire movie...

I think 10yo kids have a superpower that lets them detect people's insecurities. That, or he's remembering what Kerubim told him about Atcham.

Interestingly, while his swords seem to be made of wood at a first glance to a person who hasn't watched this movie 20 times like yours truly, these two shots (besides all the sparkles that'll be flying off these swords when they begin fighting...) confirm that it is, very much, not wood. He isn't afraid of accidentally killing a university student, a random idiot, and a ten-year-old.

Judging from Joris's scared-ass face, he is also quite aware of what Atcham coming here with two shiny, sharp swords (currently pointed right at his head), means.

He's putting Joris in his place, here. He's the unarmed 10-year-old. What can he do to him at worst? Cry about it? Scream?

Another part of this is that he needs Joris to come to Julith mostly unharmed, and not missing any limbs. Which will be easier, if he's scared and compliant.

Bad news for Atcham: Joris's response to being belittled is the same as his.

Because this battle goes by very fast, due to Atcham and Joris both being very agile, it is interesting to look at it on a frame-by-frame basis, to see what they're actually doing to one another.

Joris has his hand in a fist. There is a big likelihood that he wasn't grabbing her bell, but punching Atcham, and this hypothesis seems quite likely when one sees how Atcham is thrown in the air by the impact.

Just from this little moment alone, it is probably obvious to Atcham that, despite Joris's age, it will be a very annoying battle at best, and a fair one at worst. But even being aware of this doesn't give him the time to react to Joris's moves.

After being punched in the face by Joris, he drops the bell, but interestingly, despite having all the time to grab it, Joris goes straight for his sword.

He has good priorities. Even if this battle is due to his worries about Lilotte, grabbing her bell and risking losing the opportunity to grab a weapon, would be far more detrimental.

Atcham hits Joris with his head 1-2 times, similarly to the way he will hit Ush in the future. This can point to either him borrowing other classes' techniques (the classic iop headbang), or to him developing this style when he was a child (when you're small, thin, and furless, the best way to defend yourself if some older kids are pinning you down would be to hit them with your head).

Also, interestingly, while Joris aims to hit Atcham with his sword lethally, Atcham keeps parrying his hits by either aiming at Joris's sword, or hitting him with his hands/legs/head. He can't exactly risk killing Julith's kid, — despite the numerous threats.

I had always viewed this scene as Joris's true ascent to adulthood — not hiding, but grabbing a sword, a tool of killing, into his hands, for the sake of whatever family he has left.

Besides that, I also think it is the scene that truly made Atcham and Joris family, — brothers, an uncle and a nephew. Atcham would never have listened to him, much less grow to respect and love him, had Joris not fought back at his insults.

I bet when he was little, Atcham fought back too, just as feverishly. This is something he respects a lot, ad I bet that he blames himself at least a bit for not being strong enough when he was a kid. A very dog-eat-dog mentality.

(puts on tinfoil hat) If Kerubim and Joris's bond is "violence forged through pure love", and then Joris and Atcham's is "pure love forged through violence".

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #dofusmovie #atcham crepin #Youtube

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 months

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Hey! I love your blog so much. I was wondering if you have any thoughts or head canons on Astarion and his parents (and/or extended family), please? I’d love for our precious vampire Elf to have a happy ending and be reunited with them again, even if there is some angst along the way. My own Tav is a High Elf, and I think she’s keen to help Astarion (who is, of course, her romantic partner) to find his parents and/or family if he wants to.

I’m actually of the opinion that his family is dead and even if they’re not, it’s probably best for everyone if they keep thinking he is.

First off, Cazador intended for his spawn to go out and find him new victims; that’s what he created them for

So, it makes more sense for him to turn people who won’t be missed

We don’t know much about Astarion’s past, but I think the fact he never mentions a family is telling

Either his family is dead or he was so distant from them pre-Cazador that he doesn’t feel the need to speak of them

Or if he did have a family he was close to, I wouldn’t put it past Cazador to have them killed just to make sure his spawn don’t have any hope of escape

Astarion spent 200 years certain nobody was coming for him, if he had a family, I think he would have held out hope for longer or, failing that, become loudly resentful of the fact that they didn’t look for him

And even if we can look past all that, Astarion died that night

The person he was is gone, he can’t even remember how own face

He may have come back, but he came back wrong and after 200 years of torture he can’t be the son his parents remember

I can’t see a reunion resulting in anything other than resentment and pain

His family buried him, they had 200 years to morn and move on and Astarion is only just now able to truly live again

The graveyard scene is about rebirth and being able to move on from the past

I think his happy ending is him being able to accept who his is now, not to dwell on who he was and that means letting go of everything

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav

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cringyfanfictions · 2 months

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Before I had a Tumblr account there was this Greek mythology blog I really liked called @dontwannadothisanymore but now they're deactivated :/

This really sucks because I really wanna see their posts again (and there were two that I really really really need to see again). But if nobody reblogged then those posts are gone... forever. I have faith that people reblogged, though, I just need to find them.

If anyone has ANY post from them that they reblogged, please tell me!! Genuinely I will be so thankful.

Here are the two post I'm looking for:

One is an Athena Complex big 4 (Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Hades) headcanons post. I think it was about them feeling/using their power for the first time. The only thing a recall concretely is Hades being oblivious af (and something to do with Cerberus). There was a panel of the character before each set of headcanons.

The other is a Hades & Poseidon & Zeus fic, and actually if I dig through my very numerous ChatGPT prompts I might find it (sorry, I think I fed the fic to AI because I loved the style so much, maybe I shouldn't have done that but if I do find it that way then I sure won't regret it) but I might not (it will also take a helluva long time 'cause I didn't name any of them) . Uhh it's kinda hard to explain the premise but what I remember is: Hades spits out bad coffee (on the stairs?) and goes to the kitchen (and sets the cup in the sink?) and lies down on the floor. I don't remember what Poseidon was doing but he also joins Hades on the floor. Zeus gets up to use the bathroom and calls out to his brothers if they're in there just in case, and Poseidon answers that they're in the kitchen on the floor and Zeus ends up joining them too. Yeah. At some point either Zeus or Poseidon narrowly avoids stepping on Hades's coffee-spit.

I loved *all* of their Greek mythology headcanons though, literally if you can find a single one please tell me.

I did a google search and found some of their not Greek mythology posts, and a couple of Gm headcanon posts which I will reblog (but on a seperate blog probably).

(I'm too scared to reach out to the bigger blogs they interacted with; some of them are restricted anyways.)

Yeah. Thank you (if you read this far lol).

And sorry for the tags...

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dearfuturehusbandblog · 21 days

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ZMAN CHEIRUSEINU aka "I'M the terrible communicator!?!?!?!!"

Dear Future Husband,

I hope nobody ever quizzes me on this blog because there are so many things that I've started and stopped writing that never got posted that I literally never remember what I've actually put here...

Not that that's really fully relevant to what I was thinking about writing now, but I currently have two unfinished posts in my drafts folder (amidst 25 others that will probably never get posted) that are just a recap of this year so far.

Because I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare.

Explaining what's going on right now is kind of problematic because I haven't provided the lengthy backstory yet (which is one of the drafts I have yet to finish...)

Suffice to say, MotherLivelyHeart is being a nightmare to me again.

I think I've shared before that MLH and I share a vehicle? If not... yeah, we share a car. I'll have to look through my posts to see if I've explained that situation before, because that's one more thing to check off the "my life absolutely f*ing sucks" list.

Usually this isn't the worst thing in the world because we operate on different schedules and there isn't much crossover when it comes to who needs the car when, and when there is I usually drop her off somewhere, do what I need to do, and pick her up after.

For the record, I HATE when she offers the opposite because I have a history of being abandoned in places waiting for her to pick me up and it gives me such severe anxiety.

So last week on Sunday I asked MLH what her plans were for the next day. I asked this because I overheard a phone call she received on Friday from the dentist's office about an appointment she had on Monday at noon that she hadn't told me anything about and I knew if I was going to ever find out she was going to take the car, I would have to be the one to ask her. So I asked. And wouldn't you believe it, she had a dentist appointment on Monday at noon! Shocker.

Now, I'd been out of work since the beginning of January (again, details will hopefully be in another post) so I had a lot to take care of at work last Monday and I told her that.

We agreed she would have the car for her appointment and I would take the car to work when she got home.

Come Monday afternoon, suddenly everything has changed.

You see, her boss called in sick and she had the day off because she has a specific job that requires her to work alongside her boss and if he doesn't work, she doesn't work.

So she had the day off. Joy.

Of course, did she tell this to me directly? No.

Did she message me this information? No.

I'm just supposed to approach her and ask, "hey, did your boss call in sick and give you the day off?" I guess.

So she went to her appointment and ran some errands and called me while she was still out. Apparently some specific water bottles she can only get in like two places were available at one store about 20 minutes away from our house and she placed a pickup order so she could get them before they were sold out. The order had to be picked up between like 2:30-3:30pm and she called me at around 1:30.

Great.

She picked a pickup time that was directly during the time I was supposed to be at work.

Which she knew.

Because I told her this literally the day before.

So I told her fine. She should do the pickup order and when she got back I would take the car to work.

"Well, I also wanted to go swimming."

*Deep breath* Ok, what time is swimming?

"From 2-9pm."

At this point I didn't know how long I'd be at work because one of the things I had to take care of could be like 4-6 hours and I didn't know if there would be enough time when I was done to get home and let her get to the pool with enough time to swim before they closed.

"Ok, well why don't you go swimming, do the pickup order, and then I'll take the car to work?"

"Well, I want to come home and eat something first."

Ok. So now, what was supposed to be my time to take the car is going to be "stolen" by her coming home (15 minutes), eating something (15 minutes), going to swim (40 minutes), getting the pickup order (30 minutes), and coming back home (20 minutes).

This is TWO HOURS off of my time.

WHICH I HAD TOLD HER I NEEDED LITERALLY THE DAY BEFORE.

So she came home, ate something, and changed into her bathing suit. She left around 2pm for the pool.

I assumed at this point I'd hear from her around 3:30pm that she was around the corner.

But 3:30 came and went.

4:00pm came and went.

4:30pm came and went.

5:00pm came and BigSis messaged that she would be done at work in an hour and could either of us give her a ride home?

MOTHERF@*$%^#$ER

So it's been three hours without an update from MLH, but then she responds "I should be on my way back from the pickup order then."

EXCUSE ME!?!?!?!

She left for the pool at 2pm. THREE HOURS have gone by and she hasn't even gotten the pickup order that was supposed to be picked up between 2:30-3:30pm!?!?!?!!?!?

But she tells me that I'M a terrible communicator.

I was supposed to get the car by 1:30pm latest. It was now after 5pm and I STILL hadn't gotten to work yet.

As much as I hate when she offers to drop me off at work so she can take care of things that will take a few hours, SHE DIDN'T EVEN ASK ME THAT. She made it seem like I would have the car all afternoon to take care of what I needed to at work. And when her plans shifted, she made it seem like I'd have the car by 3:30pm latest.

And let me remind you THAT I TOLD HER THE DAY BEFORE WHAT MY SCHEDULE WAS SO THAT THIS S*** WOULDN'T HAPPEN.

But I'M the terrible communicator.

At that point I was so frickin annoyed already. MLH messaged me "should I get her or just come home" and I was so peeved I said "just get her because if you come home and I take the car I'm not picking her up."

She didn't respond to that message.

Great.

No thumbs up. No "ok." Just nothing.

Then at 6:12pm I get a message from her "car's downstairs in front."

So no message from BigSis that MLH had picked her up and they were heading home. No "we're around the corner." No nothing except over an hour later "take it."

BUT I'M THE TERRIBLE COMMUNICATOR!?

At that point it was too late for me to do some of the things I needed to take care of for work because, again, I was supposed to have been there FIVE HOURS EARLIER. And a friend messaged and asked if I could go with her to Costco, so I said to hell with it and I went to Costco with her.

While I was at Costco I messaged both MotherLivelyHeart and BigSis about what I was getting so we were all on the same page. Included in that message was eggs because, well, I was getting eggs.

I got home at like 10pm and MotherLivelyHeart and BigSis were already asleep. I made a couple of mini salami kugels with some spinach that oddly floated to the top, waited for them to cool, tried 1/4 of one before sticking them in the fridge.

Next morning I open the fridge and there's a new carton of 1.5 dozen eggs. Because apparently MLH went to the supermarket early in the morning and got eggs because "we were out."

DESPITE ME LITERALLY MESSAGING THE NIGHT BEFORE THAT I WAS BUYING EGGS AT COSTCO.

Oh, but it gets better. Because the salami kugel I had tasted the night before was missing.

BigSis was working from home so I asked her about it and she said she had no clue.

So I asked MotherLivelyHeart about it, thinking maybe it slipped out of the fridge, smashed, and she threw it out.

But no.

Guess who ate it.

Yep, the woman who has been suffering from gout and avoiding meat for the better part of a year.

The woman who saw it in the fridge and said to herself "oh, that's one of the broccoli kugels LivelyHeart made for herself for Shabbos that she said wasn't good. I guess I'll eat that for breakfast without asking her if she really doesn't want it because although she's on a weird diet right now, there's no way she's made a meal plan for herself that includes this food item she made for herself."

Because, did she message me to ask if she could have it?

Nope.

Did she knock on my door to ask if she could have it?

Nope.

Halfway through eating it she realized it was salami.

And she still finished the whole thing.

And still at NO POINT did she message me AT ALL to even tell me that she ate it.

I had to find out by inquiring OF HER.

BUT. I'M. THE. TERRIBLE. COMMUNICATOR!?!?!?!

I shouldn't be mad.

It's just food, after all, right?

Except that it's not.

It's a frickin pattern of carelessness and disregard for me as a person.

And I'm so frickin sick of it.

I'm so damn tired.

It wouldn't have killed her to ask.

It wouldn't have killed her to apologize.

And what I haven't really explained here (because again, that's in a draft post) is that I've been on an elimination diet since January 1st which has cut most things from my available food selections.

But is she on an elimination diet?

Nope.

So we have a HOUSEFUL, a PANTRYFUL, and a FRIDGEFUL of food she can eat.

And she chooses the ONE thing I made FOR ME.

Which she KNEW I made for ME.

Instead of the MYRIAD OF THINGS that she can eat that I can't.

Which means that she's not only taken a meal from me, but now I'm at a food deficit from the fridge while she lives in abundance.

BUT. I'M. THE. TERRIBLE. COMMUNICATOR.

So let's leap forward to today.

Today was Shabbos mevorchim. Pesach is in two weeks.

And MotherLivelyHeart decided we are going to change over the kitchen two weeks ahead this year.

So she scheduled her cleaning lady to come tomorrow (Sunday) to help clean the kitchen so it can be turned over.

Did she take into account that this would be motzei Shabbos and that we'd have to make Shabbos and that would involve dirty dishes and use of the stove/oven and pots and pans?

Yeah, no.

Did she take into account that the way she wants to clean the oven requires the oven to be self-cleaned before and after which takes a good several hours and creates so much smoke that we'd have to keep the windows open and also it's like 40F right now and she also wanted to go to sleep early because the cleaning lady is coming at like 8am?

Yeah, no.

BigSis went over the oven cleaning thing with her and she exclaimed "are you kidding me?! Then why am I having the cleaning lady come tomorrow?!"

BECAUSE YOU SCHEDULED HER WITHOUT CONSULTING US.

BECAUSE THERE WAS NO COMMUNICATION.

DO YOU SEE A FRICKIN THEME HERE!?!?!!?

Oh, but there's more. Because there's always more.

Thursday was another nightmare day for various reasons. One of which was that I ran errands with MotherLivelyHeart.

She scheduled an appointment for smackdab in the middle of the time I told her I'd be working.

YES. AGAIN.

And she wanted to drop me off at work and pick me up when I was done.

Well absofrickinlutelynot, thankyouverymuch.

I was supposed to work until 6pm.

I had told customers I would be available until 6pm.

Her appointment was scheduled for 6pm.

So of course "I need the car at 5:30pm."

She wanted to drive me to work earlier so that she could take the car at 5:30pm to her appointment that wouldn't be done until 7pm and then come get me an hour and a half after I was done working.

But I was supposed to trust that she wouldn't run errands or dilly dally around and that she'd actually get me at 7:30pm, which we know is never the case.

So I told her no, I'd be taking the car to work. But I would notify the customers I'd only be there until 5:30pm, at which point I'd get her and drive her to her appointment. Then while she was in her appointment I could do the Shabbos shopping, since it seemed pointless to have to wait for her to come home again before I could go out and shop.

For various reasons, we had three stores we needed to go to, one of which was about 20 minutes in the opposite direction of where her appointment was. I figured I could go there first, then on my way back to get her I could run by the other two stores, get her and then we'd go straight home.

But no.

Because it was raining and people apparently don't know how to drive in the rain. So despite me taking the highway, which should have cut like 10 minutes out of the ride each way, it took me about 30 minutes to get to that first store, which I was in for maybe 10 minutes, and as I was checking out MLH messaged "my appointment is almost over, where are you at?"

So all I had time for was turning around and going straight to get her.

Which, fine, whatever.

One of the stores we went to literally just for chicken.

And it was chicken for her because she wanted a specific type of breaded chicken for Shabbos.

So I figured I'd run into the store and grab it while she stayed in the car.

But no.

Because while I was unbuckling, she was unbuckling. Because she decided to come in.

So she went to look at side salads and I went to the chicken section where I waited but she never showed up.

Then I get a message from her.

"Where are you?"

Excuse me???? WHERE ARE YOU, WOMAN???

I told her I was at the chicken section waiting for her and she said "I already checked out. I'm going back to the car."

WE LITERALLY WENT TO THIS STORE TO BUY HER CHICKEN.

SHE CAME IN WITH ME.

PRESUMABLY TO BUY HER CHICKEN.

But she's checked out already!? WITH WHAT!?

Oh. Apparently something to eat. Because she's hangry.

Which she, OF COURSE, DID NOT TELL ME.

Fine. Whatever.

So I bought her frickin chicken.

And then on the way home she got mad at me about three driving-related things that were out of my control (like the car started making a weird noise that might be the muffler, and there was a huge pothole I couldn't avoid, and I was coming to a stop at an intersection when some lady rounded the corner quickly and we barely missed colliding...) which resulted in her yelling at me that she hates the way I'm driving.

So, yeah, that was a fun ride home.

*EYEROLL*

Anyway, on the way to her appointment she said "we never worked out a Shabbos menu."

I told her the same thing I've told her almost every week over the last three months: I'm eating differently from you guys, so you just tell me what you want and I'll grab it from the store, because I already have set aside what I'm going to eat.

And she tells me "my boss has off tomorrow, so I can cook."

Which is perfectly fine in my eyes because I'm still recovering from an injury (again, that's one of the drafted posts...) and I also had a horrendous cold for the previous two weeks so I'm still trying to get back to baseline. Any pressure off me is appreciated.

We basically worked out that for shabbos we'd do a big soup for Friday night (which I would make), then she wanted chicken (obvs) and I had bought green beans at Costco I told her she could have, and then Shabbos lunch would be fish and salady stuff.

Well, Friday rolls around.

The day already sucked because I tried adding some vegetables back into my diet during the week that are apparently problematic for my digestion. Fun.

But then MotherLivelyHeart decides to stick to her arbitrary Pesach cleaning schedule which says to clean the milchig dishes she's had piling up all week. So of course she decides to do this at like noon and doesn't finish the job and there are still milchig dishes in the sink at 3pm when I need to go in and make the soup.

Add onto that, one of my "chores" is the pareve dishes, some of which have been piling up too and also need to be done, which she feels the need to remind me of, despite her milchig dishes still filling the sink.

So I go in around 3pm and just start cooking, using the small bit of counter space that's available to me.

She decides that's the perfect time to finish the milchig dishes.

FINE. WHATEVER.

She gets them out of the way and reminds me YET AGAIN about the pareve dishes.

FINEWHATEVER.

So around 4pm I'm back in the kitchen, doing the pareve dishes, of which I only got about half done because it was causing pain and I still had to cook.

So I pivoted and did the soup.

But nothing else had been cooked yet.

So I made the green beans.

And I had to separate the soups so I could add things to theirs that I can't eat.

At this point I'm still annoyed from her the day before, my insides are so unhappy with the newly tested foods, I'm in pain from the injury, and I'm trying to cook for Shabbos.

Around 6pm I asked BigSis if she could help with the chicken. She was like "I STILL HAVE TO SHOWER!!!" As though she didn't have all day for that and somehow me needing help is my fault. She said "if you had asked me like three hours ago I could have done it."

Except that three hours ago, the milchig dishes were still filling up the sink, so.... what exactly do you expect from me!?

Sometime a little earlier when MotherLivelyHeart had been in the kitchen it was clear I wasn't doing so well and she asked what was wrong and I described the pain and she was like "I'm sorry" and then disappeared.

So then she gets a "20 minutes to candle lighting" alarm on her phone, and she's been trying to light early in zchus of the hostages and chayalim, so she calls out "20 minutes to licht benchen." Which I responded to but she didn't hear, obviously, because she yelled again "LivelyHeart, did you hear me!?"

To which I responded an annoyed "YES!!" and she was like "you don't have to talk to me that way! I clearly didn't hear you. And BigSis and I can make Shabbos on our own, you know."

Which, MYGODWOMAN. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO.

My responsibility based on our conversation was the soup.

ZE HU.

SHE was supposed to do the chicken and the green beans and whatever else they wanted.

So now she's annoyed at me because I'm annoyed at her for not doing the thing she was supposed to do, but I'M the one in the wrong.

FINE. Whatever.

In the end I didn't do the chicken.

I literally didn't have the strength for it, let alone the energy.

Not that it was really missed at the meal, but she was a bit annoyed and gave me that same "BigSis and I can cook for Shabbos on our own, you know." To which I responded "You said you were going to cook." I literally don't even remember what her response was.

Well, fast forward through Shabbos to tonight because I asked her if she wanted the chicken for melava malka or if we should stick it in the freezer for a week since it's KFP.

She wanted it for melava malka.

Which, fine, whatever.

I told her if she could bread it, I would cook it.

She got gloves, she got bowls, she got the chicken, and she got eggs.

She did not get the other ingredients she needed for the breading. Or a plate to put it on. Or a fork.

She sat down at the table and then asked me to get the other ingredients.

Which, fine. Whatever.

I got an interesting piece of mail that I'll discuss in another post when I know more what's going on with it, but it basically called my attention to research something. So I was on my computer off to the side while she was breading the chicken.

The next thing I know, she's frying the chicken.

I went into the kitchen and asked her why she was frying it when I told her I would do it for her since cooking usually exhausts her, and she got all frustrated and exasperated at me and said something like "I DON'T HAVE ALL NIGHT TO WAIT FOR YOU."

And I was like, "what are you talking about!? I was waiting for you to finish breading it! you didn't tell me you were done!"

Which just pissed her off more.

BECAUSE. I'M. THE. TERRIBLE. COMMUNICATOR.

But this is the time of year we celebrate freedom, right?

This is the time of year we thank Hashem for rescuing us from a horrible situation.

Well, where's mine?

We're supposed to celebrate every year as though WE ALL left Mitzrayim.

As though we were ALL saved.

But I am not saved.

I have never been saved.

The stupidity I've just described above is just a piece of the insane patterning of my entire life.

I have no escape from this nonsense.

And I'm just so done with all of it.

I want it all to be over.

I want it all to go away.

Where's my freedom?

Where's my salvation?

I really have to finish those other two drafts, because this isn't even the clearest picture of what I've been dealing with since 2024 started. It's barely April and I just want this secular year to be over.

There are a couple of people who have suggested guys to me over the last several months and, although they're not really what I'm looking for, right now I just don't have the emotional energy for a new relationship. I'm just so burned out from this one that I deal with every frickin day of my stupid life, which of course I can't even tell these people.

So... dear future husband, I hope you can hang in there, because I don't know when I'll be ready for you.

But maybe by then I'll be a good communicator.

-LivelyHeart

And now for the story after the story:

So, after that disaster of a drive back from the store on Thursday night, we got home around 8:30pm and although she got something small to eat from that second supermarket I knew that MotherLivelyHeart hadn't eaten anything since lunch so when I made dinner for myself I made a second bowl for her. I brought it to her and she said "oh... you didn't have to do that." Not a lot of enthusiasm there.

She didn't eat it for about a half an hour, by which time it was probably cold, and the next thing I knew, she was in bed going to sleep without another word about how it was.

Now, I don't demand praise or feedback for anything I cook, but she usually makes a comment about whatever I make, so I found it odd that she was silent on the matter.

On Friday I went to ask her about something else and while I was talking to her I asked how her dinner was the night before and she said something along the lines of, "it was... interesting. ground chicken just doesn't cook well, it's not your fault. you prepared it well, it's just not that good. ground turkey is better."

No "thank you," no "it was sweet of you to think of me," no "I appreciate the effort especially considering that you're working through the pain right now."

Just meh.

I love when I'm appreciated.

#jumblr #frumblr #shidduch #frum #jewish dating #orthodox #shadchanim #shidduchim #jewish #shadchan #shidduch dating #dating #jewishdating #i am the shidduch crisis

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cringecannon · 28 days

Note

I’m obsessed with the idea of there being some Normal Person ™️ who was kind to Astarion when he was a vampire spawn that maybe he’s a little unhealthily obsessed with. Maybe they’re a bartender at one of the establishments where he picked up victims for Cazador, maybe a seamstress who gave him thread for his embroidery or to patch up his clothing, maybe just someone who had kind words for him and didn’t try to hit on him, who knows? But it would be verrrrrry interesting to see an Ascendant Astarion encountering that Normal Person again, maybe deciding to “reward” them for being kind to him when he was nothing. Though I’m not sure if his idea of a reward would be what they would consider a reward….

(Also as an aside, I love your writing! I check your blog daily and my friends and I are constantly sending each other your Gortash and Astarion posts like “wake up, babe, new cringecannon dropped”)

He wasn't entirely sure why he was so enamored with you. To put it bluntly, you were just so... plain. Unassuming. Normal. Sure, you were nice. Plenty of people were nice to him though, and he didn't spare them a second thought. He watches you over the chalice of wine in his hand, seated in a dark corner of the bar.

Dark eyes follow the movement of your fingers as you carefully flip the page of whatever book you're reading. He glances up to your mouth, memorizing the twitch of your lip as you half-smile at some thought. Vanity rears it's head. You must be thinking of him. You had spoken to him for maybe a minute, one transaction out of hundreds, but how often did you get to see a face as pretty as his?

Not often, he hopes. A bolt of insecurity cuts through him. He feels pathetic, desperate. It sickens him. He could take anyone in this tavern home with him, and he's not going to sit around and let you make him feel inferior. His eyes settle on some pretty thing sitting alone at the bar and takes his wine with him, swaying over to his mark. Out of the corner of his eye, he tries to see if you're watching. You're not, staring down at your book like it's the most important thing in the room. He refuses to let you deflate his ego. His master wouldn't want you anyway. He'll waste no more time obsessing over some boring nobody.

He does, though. Watching you becomes a treat for him. Speaking with you when he he shops becomes a whole event. The last time he saw you, you'd finally started to recognize him. A warm smile lit up your face as you reached for the exact kind of thread he always comes in for. It was fate, of course, that he'd be abducted the next day.

That first night in camp he wonders if you'll miss him. If you'd think about him as fondly as he thinks of you. Reality crashes in, and the fact that you probably won't is bittersweet. He had been playing a dangerous game with you. Any closer, and Cazador probably would have found out. You'd have been just another thing to take away from him. It was safer this way.

He doesn't think about you much after that. Facing death everyday tends to do that.

It's not until Cazador's blood has long since dried on his hands that he thinks of you. He washes his skin absentmindedly, trying to remember all that he could about you. It wasn't much, honestly. He didn't know your name, but he knew the kind of books you liked to read and the way your eyes shined when your hand touched his when he paid for his thread. It was a start. No one else in camp had kept his attention long. He needs someone to sit by his side and look good for all eternity, and you'd do just fine.

That settles it, in his mind. When the elder brain business is over, he'll start courting you. He thinks he should start by buying the shop you work in. Get rid of the owner somehow, and then he'll give it to you. Once you fall for him (and you will, because you're just too perfect to be so ungrateful after receiving such a thoughtful gift), he'll invite you to live in his new manor. If you're a bit more stubborn, it won't matter. He's not yet sure what hovel you live in, but he's sure you'll appreciate the upgrade.

He sits up a little taller, a small smile on his face as he dries his hands. Should he make you his spawn before he marries you, or after? On one hand, it'd be the perfect way to start the honeymoon. On the other, if he turns you early your cooperation would be guaranteed. He hums to himself. Decisions, decisions. Honestly, it's too soon to worry about it. He has the rest of his everlasting life to woo you. No point stressing over it now.

#this ask is old but it's crazy how many friend groups used to share my content with each other #.astarion #.bg3

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 20 days

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ANOTHER RAMBLE HERE, I, ARRIVED

(But I'm going to add Ithaqua, Luca, Hunter!Nathaniel due they are my favorite!)

(Translation: I want their gender)

But also for writing for Florian x Reader, I don't think I can't. But I'm trying! But I have to make another account for this, due my main account is literally idv oc ask blog. But, I'm more of a "giving ideas for character name x Reader"! making rambles and small things about (insane) silly character!

FLORIAN RAMBLE HERE:

I like power play as well here! I do think Florian is in the higher rank in the Fire Investigator Industry, Being senior in the industry due it was mentioned the amount of fire he caught are very impressive. Which means, he caught fire many times. But his S/O being newbie in the industry. I think it depends on if His S/O is his long lost (I will ramble about that later!) Best friend or childhood best friend, or newbie he will soon be obsessed

But the fanarts I see of him, interpreting who he is. I did see one fan art of him being golden retriever (probably because of his hair, but we don't know yet!), and other one of him being bored or different expression that is like negative. Even more fanarts of him being happy and silly! Like I said in my first ramble, he is silly character (that's fucked up), that acts so silly!

In opinion how he acts with Newbie! S/O, he would act like golden retriever. Always following S/O around, even though he's supposed to do his literal job, but he excuse himself by saying that he's taking a "break"! (Lying ass), becomes sadden whenever his S/O has to go to do their jobs. Which means, Florian would try to convince S/O to stay with him for awhile (Translate: abusing power here), but if His S/O refuse, he would start guilt tripping them, or more like this

"You know my dear butterfly, if you keep refusing. Remember, I'm the senior." Florian once cheerful and convincing expression of face quickly changed, turning into blank look. His eyes that were once full of light and excitement, the eyes that is always eager to help people, especially being with you. Is gone, as if it was hidden mask, while his gloved hands becomes firms on your cheeks, looking down at you. As if daring you to question his authority.

Probably that will shut up S/O, BUT I'M BELIEVER OF FLORIAN CALLING HIS S/O "butterfly", BUT I DON'T KNOW IF HE WILL CALL HIS S/O BY FIRE RELATED NICKNMANES ACTUALLY! Before turning back into happy and puppy-like if S/O gives in

AND ALSO, I do think he would use his power, scaring off any newbies or upper ranks of the Fire Investigator Industry. Oh? Nobody wants to partner up with you during lessons? No worries butterfly! Florian is here! After all, you need him right?... Right?

Like I said, he's probably like golden retriever. Acting like one whenever he's around with people, but becomes more with his S/O. But I also do see him turning into scary dog/not-so-goldeb-retriever with anybody he deemed a threat to him (and S/O also!) . Straight up glaring at that someone, before turning back to normal if his S/O comes back

During in/the Manor: I do think it's the same thing, but more overprotective. Yes, he acts friendly with everyone. Like Lily! But will glare at anybody who tries to talk to his butterfly, (more like threatening to take off their eyes, without hesitation) plus, I believe he would be the one (and only, even the first) to rescue S/O, but takes advantage of his abilities (IT'S LITERALLY SPRAYING WATER, BUT I THINK HE WILL MAKE MORE POWERFUL..), hunting down the hunter down without mercy

After all! They were the one who hurt his butterfly, he may be sadistic. But he's the only one who is allowed to act like that with his butterfly! No one else!

I can see him also like... Growling (like a literal dog) or his once cheerful and (obsessed) loving look quickly drop if anybody wants to heal you or is healing you when he's about to. Nobody is allowed to touch his butterfly

LOOK, I'M VERY CURIOUS ABOUT HIS EYE THAT IS BANDAGED, SO HERE'S MY RAMBLE ABOUT IT: I'm firm believer that Florian ONLY let his loved one, and also his S/O, take it off and let him see his missing eye/or healed burned eye (we don't know if he take off his eye or it was burned by the fire his parents die OR where he was rescuing the children!), while smilling lovingly at them and dork way as well. While his S/O worships him/changing his bandages (he will keep using that as excuse)

ITHAQUA RAMBLE: (IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS, IT'S FINE. DUE I'M NOT MAKING SENSE HERE..)

Listen, listen here, I'm very much in love (MORE LIKE OBSESSED) with your ithaqua fics! Very chef kiss. Good description of him as well! I do believe he would act like that due of his... Well, isolation and his mother sanity being gone

BUT IMAGINE IF HIS S/O HAVE HIS MOTHER HAIR COLOUR, LIKE RED HEAD...

HAVE YOU SEEN FIONA? AND GRACE NEW S (or A tier, I don't remember) COSTUME. BOTH OF THEM HAVE LITERALLY RED HAIR COLORED.. I WAS LIKE "I bet Ithaqua would have break down.." MAN THAT BOI IS GOING THROUGH STUFF...

This is my opinion about this! Cause I never seen anybody or Even someone talking about this, but I didn't want to talk bout it. Because I don't want to be accused of, like "So wait you're literally shipping him with someone that have his mother appearance?" NO, I MEANT THE HAIR COLOUR, NOT THE WHOLE APPEARANCE. ONLY THE HAIR (and probably the mother figure vibes, if you want add in the pain and insanity this man is going through right now)

But back what I'm saying! I think S/O would be a survivor, as Ithaqua saw them. He would be surprised but is hidden because of his mask, before wondering if that is mother who comes back. But realize it's just S/O, before continues hunting them down.

But I do think I see him not wanting too, due S/O acts like mother figure to every survivor and hunters (Especially hunter that are children), letting them go and being the last survivor to escape. Which it's quite a surprise, but I do also see him hunting them down for a bit before leaving them to do the decoding the cipher

Plus, him being a literal a owl (or stalking deer, I don't know, he gives me that type of vibes), he would stalk S/O everywhere. Making sure they're safe, scaring them sometimes

(I'M SORRY IF THIS IS TOO OCC, I THINK THIS IS HOW HE WOULD ACT WITH HIS S/O THAT HAVE HIS MOTHER HAIR COLOUR)

LUCA RAMBLE: (MY BABYGIRL :3)

I may or may not got into IDV, even playing the game, because of this man. HE'S SO GOOFY, AND THE FACT HE'S LITERALLY ONE OF MY KINNIES, I always love reading fics of him. Plus, I'm planning to do cosplay of him later, but... Gonna buy some costume of him..

BUT BACK TO MY RAMBLE: imagine if his S/O is his fiance/lover/wife, before he lost his memories and becomes prisoner. I do see him being very loving to his lover, even affectionate with them as well. Which may or may not cause him to get distract from his lessons with Alva, always getting scolded by him

But... Good moments and Memories don't stay for too long, hm?

After Luca got into the "accident", even losing his memories. I do see him being confused at the mention of his fiance, as his S/O tries to make him remember them during their visit as they wondered why he "kills" his teacher, But, he's lost case as he would think of them as stranger, or a friend exactly

During the manor: If his S/O found out about their lover going to The manor, I do see them going too to find their lover. But if his S/O got the letter too, it would be the same thing!

But due of Luca well... Brain not so being function, I think he would remember S/O due of their past frequent visits back then in the prison or not, due of how he's brain is working. I do also see them slowly getting along like they used to, before they got married. It was innocent and nice, but hurtful if S/O is still hurt by Luca not remembering them

But slowly, Luca would be possessive. Pushing anybody or quickly excusing his S/O, so that he could "show" his new inventions! Look! Cool right? Just ignore that buggy person. They're probably not intelligent like him

Plus, I do also seem him taking advantage of him pretending to be S/O lover, like he did lose his memories but if he saw anybody (god forbid, any survivors), getting TOO close to his S/O. He would step up and say

"Excuse me! My lovebug will talk to you later! Bye bye!" As Luca grabbed your hand, before you even about to excuse yourself! But as you were about to scold him for interrupting such a conversation with you and the new survivor, he gives you puppy eyes... Oh, what are you going to do with him?

YES I BELIEVE THIS MAN USE PUPPY EYES TO USE ON S/O, but this is my personal opinion!

HUNTER! NATHANIEL RAMBLE:

DAMN I DIDN'T EXPECT THIS (dead) BROTHER OF MAN I PROMISE TO BE DEVOTED TOO, WOULD HOOK ME UP LIKE FISH ON HANGER. I'M ON MY KNEES WITH THIS MAN..

Actually ngl though, whenever I read some about him In your blog. I would sometimes wonder what would happend if S/O got Hunter! Nathaniel infatuated (He's in denieal right now) AND ITHAQUA GOT AS WELL. I DON'T KNOW IF THEY ARE WILLING TO SHARE..

Due of how Nathaniel did to Ithaqua and his mother as well, even how Ithawua interpreted their relationship with one of another. So, being animals they are, they WON'T even share. Plus, I do see both of them keep marking on S/O many times, especially during matches..

NSFW RAMBLE (AGAIN, IT'S ALRIGHT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS)

During matches, GOOD LORD FORBID IN DUO MATCHES. IF THESE TWO ARE PARTNER UP... There are going to be some.. Shaboinky going around, probably in the basement and S/O being overwhelmed (and overstimulated), by these two. All of those survivors better be glad that S/O is good distraction..

I also do see them taking turns, getting more possessive as one take turns. But also, one of them becoming sadistic. But I also see them fighting over S/O while S/O is too overstimulated..

NSFW OVER

(I THINK I'M WILLING TO MAKE RAMBLE ABOUT SURVIVOR! NATHANIEL AND SURVIVOR! ITHAQUA.. AND MATTHIAS, HE'S GROWING ON ME)

Anon buddy pls know i love you and i want you to have an amazing day imma keep reading this over and over lol

Also i literally gave an oc red hair to fuck w Ithaqua cuz im a bully hdhjdhdhdh but anyway YEAH YEAH im just in awe of this hszhhzzhzh

#anon ask

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platonic-tony-stark · 1 month

Note

Hey 👋 I know it’s rough right now, I really do understand it. Life is tough but you shouldn’t shame yourself for having these feelings ! What you feel right now is completely valid and you deserve to acknowledge those feelings and not feel a guilt about them. I don’t know you but I can assure you that you are wanted in this life and you are needed in this life. We all have different ways of coping and just because yours is a fictional universe billions of galaxies away doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY this feeling of suffocation and darkness that you probably feel carries itself on your shoulders everyday WILL PASS and that little voice inside your head that says “that’s bullshit, you’re wrong it won’t go away” is very very wrong. No matter how hard it gets never let that voice win. You are worthy of happiness and it will come your way. That voice is a liar and in a few years time you will be glad you didn’t listen to it. Everyone yearns for the past and for childhood to come back and embrace them like a warm blanket but if you get so caught up in the past you are going to forget to look ahead and around at the current moment. You might think it’s the end and that isn’t true, it’s the beginning. I know that sound cliche but you need to remember it has been proven that multiple realities exist so somewhere in those realities your comfort characters are reading your story and watching you right now and I can tell you with full confidence they are screaming “DONKT GIVE UP JUST YET, I DONT WANT THIS STROY TO END”. We all as readers of your blog no matter if they like, comment or just appreciate from afar are also begging you to carry on. You are so strong to have come this far, carry on. YOU HAVE GOT THIS! Drink some water and eat something small. You deserve that much at least. Now start the next chapter in your life, your comfort characters can’t wait to see what’s next xx 💚💖💚 (anytime you see this at the end of an anon that’s me and I appreciate you being here)

Wow wow wow. First of all, damn tumblr looks hella different now. Secondly, I can't believe, my posts are still around and still getting LIKES amd Follows. Like my guy- I've been gone for almost 2 years now I think. I was on some times but not active active yk. I truly believe nobody missed me EXCEPT this person.

SO UPDATE. I ain't dead. And got professional help. Brain chemicals balanced and stable environment. I moved and sorted things out at work.

I joined loads of communities and wrote some fics on AO3. I still love tony and the OG Marvel Stuff but clicked out after endgame and the spiderman movie after.

Just wanted yall to know i never deinstalled the app and never ever thought to delete all this. I kind want to continue but want to kept the atmosphere of the first avenger movie and around iron man 1 & 2 i just love the nostalgia. In my humble opinion the best era.

Thanks for read and I might beginning to post again. Maybe. Let's see what the morning brings

Cheers yall!

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anonymouslymadebydesign · 1 year

Note

Hello neighbour! :D

I saw ur Howdy x little!GN!Reader and it’s adorable!!

But I want angst. Could I request a Howdy x gn!reader but the reader from our world + seriously injured.

Kinda feel like if the reader was dragged into Welcome home, Home would trap reader inside and start injuring them. Maybe,, the reader arm/leg(s) ripped off???

Oh but if u don’t do those! Reader can get scratches from home like deep wounds? :)

I’m sorry if this wasn’t in ur pinned post!! I didn’t understand some and I hope u take care of urself and plz, get some sleep/hydration! :D

Hello Neighbor ! Thank you for your ask, it reminded me I should probably include my dos and don’ts for this blog, huh ? I’ll update that soon ✿(> ‿ ◕)✿

I don’t write heavy gore but more lighthearted stuff, so how ‘bout a puppet reader with a few scrapes ? While everyone in the Neighborhood IS of puppet nature, I like to imagine they’d still feel pain, maybe just a bit different than we do

(╯ ‿ ╰,)

✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂

Content Warning ! : Mentions of detached arm and sewing needles

Characters : You ! , Wally, and Home

Word Count : 1468

✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂

Nobody had heard from Wally all day. It wasn’t uncommon for the smaller puppet to be hidden away for days on end, busy in his own little world until he either remembered the outside world or needed something. But, as the days turned into a week, you and your friends began to worry for him. Few had gone to check up on him, but due to Homes creeks of protest, most everyone gave up with a sigh or a shrug. If home wasn’t willing to open its doors, then it was virtually impossible to get in.

You had watched your neighbors in the past couple days leave Home looking defeated. Even Eddie, with his mail, watched in disdain as letters piled up outside.

These past events replayed in your mind as you brought your fist up and gave a heart knock on Homes door. Their window eyes seemed to open dazily, rolling back from the side before landing down on you.

“Good evening, Home.” You smiled and rubbed the brick tiles gently.

‘Creeeeak.’ Home moaned in response, which you surely hoped was a greeting in return.

“Can Wally come out to play today?” You asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice nice and light despite the nervousness that wracked your plush body. “I wanted to go to the old stone dam creek in the woods, where the grove starts, and thought he’d like to join. Please, oh please, let him join me?”

Silence. Silence and dread is what filled the air in the Neighborhood as you and Home seemed to have an intense stare down. Neither of you spoke for what seemed like an eternity before Homes front door slowly but surely opened.

A gasp tore through your throat as you glanced at the barely open door then back to Homes massive eyes. “Really? Oh, really? Home, I’m,” You grinned feeling giddy. “I’m so happy! Thank you!”

‘Bam! Creeeeak….creeak.’ Was Homes response. No one could understand them as well as Wally, but the response seemed to be one of acceptance, tired acceptance. With a final thank you, you pushed the big yellow door open and stepped inside.

“Wally? Are ya here?” You called out.

“(Y/N)?” Wally’s surprised voice greeted you in turn.

“Home says you can come exploring with me!” You clapped excitedly.

Wally had been in the kitchen, staring out the window that sat above the sink. From there, he could just see Julie’s house through the thick trees that sat right behind his house. Some days it felt like spying, other days, when he hadn’t left for days, it felt like he was telepathically reaching out asking someone to notice and get him out.

And here you were.

“Is that so?” He asked as he made his way towards the front door. “How generous of you, Home.” He smiled his natural lazy grin but it was obvious he was tired. You could see it in his eyes.

‘Bam! Bam! Bam!’ House responded to Wally. Whatever they said, it made your smile waiver seeing his expression drop so quickly.

“Wally?”

“C-Come on,” Wally reached forwards and grabbed your hand, quickly pulling the two of you out of Home. “Before they change their mind..” He mumbled to himself.

As the two of you exited the house, with the door now fully open, you reached down and tossed the pile of mail that was beside the front door inside. It wasn’t a lot, but enough for any passer by to see from the street and recognize it was untouched and piling.

“Ah, thank you, (Y/N),” Wally seemed to breathe in deeply before sighed deeply. God, there was nothing like fresh air after being holed up for a solid week. “You’re so kind to-“ He was going to tell you how kind and sweet it was of you to rescue him from his own Home, whether or not you really wanted to go play. Instead, his voice was caught in the back of his throat, and all he could do was stare at you.

Well, specifically, your arm. As you had tossed Wally’s mail into his house, the front door had closed completely on your outstretched arm. The two of you stare as the door vibrated before unlocking, opening once again, and what felt like spitting your arm up.

You stared in shock and horror. Mortified, you looked over to Wally, who met your gaze with his own version of shock and fear.

There, between the two of you, hanging by a few threads and an inch of fabric, was your mangled arm. Twitching, fingers flexing as you realized you could still move them, just barely. ‘I can feel em’ You thought briefly.

While, yes, everyone in the Neighborhood was of puppet origin, that didn’t mean you or anyone else was immune to pain or the occasional boo-boo. Although, from past experience, this required stitches.

As the initial shock slowly wore off, which in actuality only lasted a measly five seconds, a blood curdling scream left your body. Well, cotton curdling, that is. Tears filled your eyes as you began to sob uncontrollably.

“IT ATE MY ARM!” You screamed like your life depended on it. “OH GOD, OH GOD, MY ARM!”

Wally felt the same panic you were experiencing possess his body as he gripped your hand he had been holding even harder now.

“We…we gotta…” He was wracking his brain for a solution. “HOWDY! HOWDY CAN FIX IT..A SEWING KIT, HE'S GOT A SEWING KIT!” He tried to meet your panicked eyes with a smile but it came off as panic like mania instead. He grabbed your nearly detached arm, pushed it back into position, and pulled you towards the bodega.

✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂ ✿ ⌂

“Now, how did this happen?” Howdy asked after setting you atop the front counter and pulling out a portable sewing kit from one of the many shelves that sat behind him.

You sniffled as you rubbed your eyes with your fully working arm. What a sight you two had been, a disheveled Wally, hair askew with wild eyes panting heavily, dragging you in. You, with your head hung low, sobbing so hard it sounded like a wounded animal had made its way in seeking sanctuary.

In a way you were.

“Home,” You spat out as your tried regulating your breathing. “Home close-closed it’s doo-oor on…on my arm when,” You couldn’t look Howdy in his eyes, scared of what you’d see. Anger? Disappointment? Pity? You could only guess as you stuttered out an explanation.

“Home shut its door on (Y/N)s arm when they were tossing in all the piled up mail Eddie left.” Wally finished for you, his own hands twisting what used to be his ascot anxiously. It was so stretched and torn from messing with it, you were certain it’d have to be replaced. “When Home noticed, it opened the door again but….the damage was done.” He finished quietly, pitifully.

Howdy sighed deeply before turning you fully. “You can still move your fingers, aye?” He asked. You nodded and wiggled your fingers in demonstration. “Alrighty then, I’ll sew you up, give you some medicine, and send y’all on y’all’s way. Though, I suggest,” He began glancing behind him at Wally. “That the two of you stay away from Home for a good while, ya hear?”

“Yes Sir.” You and Wally agreed at the same time.

“Sleep over at (Y/N)s or, if you don’t wanna do that, stay with Poppy. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind watching over you two for a while. Sure she’d like the company.”

Howdy got to work on sewing up your arm. You weren’t sure if it was the sheer amount of adrenaline that had flooded your body that made it feel nothing more than getting a shot at the doctors. Howdy had put what looked like antiseptic around the wound and silently began putting your arm back where it belonged.

As he dutifully did his work, Wally stood adjacent to you, rubbing one of your legs that hung over the counter comfortingly. Every time he tried whispering an apology you shook your head and told him it wasn’t his fault, it was Homes. That maybe it had been an accident, truly.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

“There, all patched up now.” Howdy had said, giving your shoulder a hearty pat. “How we feeling?”

“Better, thank you, Howdy.” You looked up to him finally, giving him your best grateful smile.

He looked like he had more to say but shook his head, a sad smile gracing his soft features, before scooping you up and setting you back on the ground.

“Be careful out there, okay?

And don’t let the sun set on you here.”

#welcome home arg #wally darling #julie joyful #sally starlet #barnaby b beagle #eddie dear #frank frankly #poppy partridge #howdy pillar #welcome home #horror #puppet dismemberment #I think howdy has a southern accent #maybe that’s self projection #as a Texan I feel in my boots Howdy has a southern accent okay #body horror cw

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