#✦ Two shots and I need more

[captainofthetidesbreath]

"Ah. Your distraction worked. Could have set it when we were farther away." / "Désolé. I didn't say it was a good plan."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Dungeon Meshi: The RPG

[emdotcom]

Yeah, so while I was on my "I'm going to read into Vanny/Vanessa as much as possible" journey, I noticed an odd quirk in her animations in how she moves. At first, I thought it reminded me of a ballerina, 'cause she's kinda tip-toeing, & she has this way of keeping her head & chest in one place as she moves, but I looked again & realized --

That's not ballet! She's doing a tight-rope act. Like, look at this one:

This is like standing up on the wooden boards before you do the actual tight-rope walking, & the ring leader is hyping you up as you do some fun movement for the crowds. &, then, these:

These are all instances where she walks with one foot directly in front of the other. In that third, she's doing the "woaaah" wiggly-ass balance movements & everything, as if she's swaying up at the top of the tent, even though she's down on solid ground.

Idk, I feel like the way her feet are placed isn't accurate (pretty sure they should be pointed left & right, not both forwards...) doesn't make this 100% correct, but I like it. It also connects back with her first SB teaser, wherein she's up in the rafters.

[fuumiku]

Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

[atomic-bobo]

Katie & Trip | Touch

[sslowdeathh]

✦ Chaperone ;

Not requested, coined for a headmate. I couldn't find a flag for this specific thing, though please tell me if there is one.

✦✦✦ definition ;

A chaperone is a headmate that doesn't exactly care for littles, but they are always near / in front when littles front. A chaperone may also supervise headmates that age (or pet)-regress.

A chaperone will NOT interfere with whatever the little is doing unless it is dangerous, or otherwise harmful. The chaperone will only watch from a distance until something goes wrong. If everything is okay, then they just chill.

[PT: Chaperone.

Not requested, coined for a headmate. I couldn't find a flag for this specific thing, though please tell me if there is one.

Definition:

A chaperone is a headmate that doesn't exactly care for littles, but they are always near / in front when littles front. A chaperone may also supervise headmates that age (or pet)-regress.

A chaperone will not interfere with whatever the little is doing unless it is dangerous, or otherwise harmful. The chaperone will only watch from a distance until something goes wrong. If everything is okay, then they just chill. /PT END]

[operationslipperypuppet]

who runs a one-shot at first level? it’s a one-shot. let me do more than one thing before needing to take a nap. and don’t send options for cool subclasses in the setting you’re choosing if some people won’t even have access to that because they’d get it at level 3!

[bandaidfingers]

Some sketches and little panel previews of my characters Raphi and Sykes, a gloomy spiritual medium and her plucky paranormal technician. Your new favorite ghost hunters.

These two are from “Memory”, the 17-page comic I did for One Shot Comics’ newest anthology Dream.exe!

The Dream.exe kickstarter is live ✨HERE✨ until June 14, so if you want to grab yourself a copy and support all of the artists on it (including myself) now is the time!

[theswampghost]

the fucking “i dreamt last night that you killed me” scene is one hell of an intricate ritual.

[mitternacht]

Finally set up my UU shelf!

Guess who the favorite is (difficulty: impossible)

[monofazz]

Sorry for popping out of existence again have a peace offering 🫴

Swatch having been assigned to the new big shot around town and teach him how to act around rich people and not make an idiot of himself [Spamton is a brat about it]

[viridian-snow]

Does anyone ever think about how Breach's touchiness with Rex might be her attempt at convincing herself things are real. Because I do. I think about it a lot.

[backpackingspace]

Young odysseus convincing everyone Ithaca is nothing but a poor island with rocks and goats to avoid any raids/conquerors/so he doesn't get murdered for talking to Helen bc "it's not like he's a real choice"

Young odysseus falling in love with Penelope at the same event: wait. Wait shit I fucked up hold on just hear me out

[ghosttotheparty]

The dialogue writing prompt thing. Number eight with Steddie. I think Eddie saying it to Steve. Idk. It'd be cute:]

youre so right cw: weed use

8. “I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.” dialogue prompts!!

Eddie is very tired.

It's been a long... few days. (Feels like years.) And he wants to go to bed, and listen to the wind, and maybe get a little high, but as he thinks about it all he remembers where he is.

In the lobby of Hawkins Memorial Hospital, with stitches in his skin and an ice pack on his head. Next to Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley, with Steve Harrington by his side. Steve's knee won't stop bouncing up and down. Eddie can hear the rubber sole of his shoe squeaking on the tile, and after he suffers through it for another minute, he reaches out and sets his hand on him. Steve's knee freezes as soon as Eddie's hand is on it, but Eddie can feel his tenseness radiating through his jeans, can feel how anxious he is, and he wordlessly flips his hand over, holding it out.

He doesn't know what he expects, but after a moment Steve slides his hand into Eddie's, pressing their palms together and lacing their fingers. Eddie keeps staring at the floor. There's a spot of dirt on the white tile that looks how he feels. Steve's fingers tighten after a moment, and Eddie squeezes back.

They're there for a long while. Waiting. Robin falls asleep with her head on Nancy's shoulder, and Nancy rests her head on Robin’s, sighing deeply. Eddie wishes Steve would fall asleep. He seems like he could use it.

He doesn't know how long it is until a door opens and the others appear around the corner into the waiting room. Eddie and Steve pull their hands away silently, tightening as they watch everyone trickle into the room. Max, Lucas, Erica, and Dustin, followed by Max's mom, Lucas and Erica's parents, Dustin's mom, Dr Owens, and Chief Powell. Steve exhales next to Eddie. It takes a long while for them to sort everything out. The parents all look... Eddie doesn't think tired is the right word for it.

They all look scared. Even as they look at their children.

Eddie wishes he was high.

The kids don't want to go home alone, even with their respective parents, so a sleepover is organized at the Sinclairs'. Max will borrow some of Erica's pyjamas that are too big for her, and Dustin will borrow Lucas's. (Though Eddie suspects they'll all be asleep as soon as they enter the house. Especially Max, who looks like she's about to keel over any second. Lucas seems to notice it too, and keeps an arm around her the whole time.)

Goodbyes are said in the parking lot, in the brightness from the hospital that's spilling out into the night. Mr Sinclair shakes Steve and Eddie's hands and Ms Henderson hugs them both as gently as she can. Eddie feels like he's spinning, blindly hugging the kids, murmuring soft I love yous and pressing kisses to the tops of their heads, until he's standing by Steve and watching the cars peel out of the parking lot.

Nancy sighs heavily again.

"You're with me?" Steve asks Eddie softly. Eddie looks at him. His eyes reflect the hospital lights in a way that looks holy.

"Yeah," he says.

He sits shotgun while Steve drives to drop the girls off at Nancy's, getting out to hug them and accept the kisses they press to his cheeks, and then he watches Steve walk them up to the front door, hugging them both tenderly before he whispers something to Robin that makes her smack the back of his head. Steve is snickering when he comes back to the car, and it makes Eddie smile.

"Ready?" Steve asks, like they're going on an adventure instead of going home.

Home.

"Do you think... we can stop by my place first?" Eddie asks weakly. "I wanna get... some stuff."

"Yeah," Steve says, pulling out of the Wheelers' driveway. "What do you wanna get?"

"Uh." Eddie sighs. "Some clothes. Keepsakes. Cash. Wayne doesn't know where I hide it, I bet he didn't get it when they made him leave. And, uh..."

"And?"

"Okay, you can't judge me," Eddie says, opening his mouth to speak and make excuses for himself, but Steve interrupts with a quiet, "Never."

Eddie smiles at him for a moment.

"I kinda really wanna get high," he says. "I'm just... I'm so fucking tired, man, and my stitches hurt like a bitch, and I'm..." He trails off, unsure of what to say. He doesn't have that many reasons. He feels like he should have more, like he needs excuse after excuse to get high, but Steve just nods.

"I feel you," he says. "I have some weed at home, but it's not a lot."

"Steve Harrington," Eddie says, relaxing into his seat with relief. "Where've you been my whole life?"

Steve laughs quietly.

"Right here, man."

The trailer is taped off when they get to it, but they don't let it stop them. (It's not like Eddie's never broken in anywhere. Plus, he isn't even actually stealing tonight. It's all his.) If they get arrested, Powell is in on everything now. It'll be fine.

Eddie finds some bags and Steve helps him stuff them full of sweaters and jeans and shirts and handfuls of socks and underwear. Eddie finds his lunchbox in the living room, untouched and unbothered, and he supposes it makes sense that the military government men don't actually care that much about drugs in the grand scheme of things. He fills the lunchbox with the cash from the false bottom of his sock drawer. Steve watches, an almost curious expression on his face. Eddie does one last sweep of the room as Steves takes the bags out to his car. He presses a kiss to his guitar, silently promising he'll be back for her, He finds a bong under his bed and carries it out of the house with him, holding it up as Steve starts the car. Steve grins at him. (He's got an amazing smile. It lights up his whole face like a lamp.)

Steve’s house is eerily quiet when they get there. Silence isn’t all that weird in and of itself, Eddie thinks, but the house is so… big. Like there should be twenty people living here, and not just Steve by himself. Even at the trailer, there's always some kind of noise, the tap dripping, the radiator clicking, the wind making the windows rattle. But the Harrington house is so silent Eddie can hear his own heart beating.

Steve pauses in the doorway, taking a breath that almost echoes in the emptiness, and Eddie’s heart suddenly aches as he thinks about Steve coming home all alone, day after day, night after night. Sitting in the empty loneliness.

“Steve,” Eddie says softly as he follows Steve inside, watching as Steve turns to face him, holding one of Eddie’s bags.

“Yeah?”

Eddie hesitastes for just a moment before he steps forward, shutting the door behind himself, and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck in a tight hug. Steve hugs him back just as desperately, and it’s a little awkward because they’re both carrying Eddie’s bags, and Eddie can’t get as close as he wants to. Which is probably a good thing.

With the door shut, there’s no light in the house at all. It’s pitch dark, but Eddie doesn’t really care. Steve asks if everything is okay, his voice soft and breathy right by Eddie’s ear, and Eddie almost cries. His eyes burn, and he nods for a moment as he swallows, desperate for his voice not to break.

“Yeah.”

They separate after a few moments, slowly, like they don’t really want to let go.

Steve leads Eddie up to the guest room. Shows him how to turn on the shower, adjust the temperature.

When he leaves to take a shower in his own room, Eddie’s body aches. Like Steve’s absence makes him hurt. That’s probably not healthy, he thinks to himself. But when has Eddie ever had healthy habits? And in the grand scheme of things, Eddie doesn’t think a little codependency is the end of the world.

The shower is nice. The water is nice and hot, the water pressure even and hard enough on his back that he relaxes. He watches dry blood and dirt and Upside Down grime wash across the white tile floor and down the drain.

He gets cold when he gets out of the shower and quickly scrubs his hair dry with the towel before he dresses, grabs the bong and lunchbox, and heads downstairs.

Steve is in the kitchen, searching through the fridge, when Eddie gets there. His hair is dripping wet, and the sweater he’s wearing is too big, loose and hanging down to reveal his chest when he bends down.

“You hungry?” Steve asks, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. His eyes glance up and down. Eddie pretends not to notice.

“Maybe a little.”

Steve pulls some Tupperware out of the fridge and sets it on the counter before he reaches back in, looking back at Eddie.

“Did you re-bandage your stitches?”

“Uh, no,” Eddie says. He sets the box and bong on the island, watching as Steve pulls out two cans of Coke. “They’re not bleeding or anything.”

“Should still keep them covered,” Steve says. “So they don’t get caught on your clothes.”

“I don’t have…”

Steve just shakes his head.

“I got it.”

He pulls a first aid kit out from under the sink. Everything looks brand new, except the bottle of painkillers. Eddie leans against the counter as Steve pushes his shirt up, kneeling in front of him and carefully, gently bandaging him up.

Eddie laughs.

“What?” Steve questions, shooting a look up at him.

“Just…” Eddie sighs, looking at the ceiling, wincing as Steve presses medical tape to his skin so it sticks. “Helped prevent the end of the world. Somehow survived. Now I’m… standing in Steve Harrington’s kitchen.”

Steve laughs softly, moving onto Eddie’s other side. There are fewer stitches there, but the skin is all mangled. Steve is so gentle Eddie barely feels it.

“Who would’ve thought?” he says softly. Eddie just hums in response.

They’re eye to eye when he stands up. Eddie can’t tell which of them is taller. Steve’s eyes catch on his cheek, and he puts his fingers to Eddie's jaw, gently making him turn his face. Before Eddie can say anything, Steve is finding an ointment in the first aid kid and smearing it carefully over his cheek before he murmurs, “Tilt your chin up,” and Eddie looks up at the ceiling. Steve’s fingers press ointment over the injury on his neck. That one isn’t that bad, but Steve is still careful, almost tender. He bandages his cheek next, his teeth caught between his teeth and his brows furrowed in concentration.

Eddie takes the ointment when he’s done and wordlessly touches the underside of Steve's chin, making him look up so Eddie can do the same to his neck.

“When did you take the painkillers at the hospital?” Steve asks as they settle on the sofa.

“Uh.” Eddie hesitates, crossing his legs as he sorts out the weed. “Maybe two hours ago? Ish?”

���Think they have you to four to six hour ones,” Steve says. “Should last a while. If you need more in a few hours tell me.”

“Might not need ‘em,” Eddie says as he works. “If this works.”

Steve leans back against the armrest of the sofa and pops open a Coke as Eddie smokes, the empty house filling with the sound of the bong bubbling. He holds the smoke in his lungs until it burns, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back to blow the smoke at the ceiling.

“Yup.”

Steve snorts, and Eddie grins, opening his eyes to pass him the bong and the lighter.

“What would happen if your parents walked in right now?” Eddie asks, watching Steve he takes a hit, and Steve coughs, laughing as he blows the smoke out.

“They’d lose their shit,” he says, grinning. “Don’t know what they’d be more upset about, that I’m smoking weed or that I’m getting high with Eddie fuckin’ Munson.”

Eddie laughs, almost giggling, like it’s a compliment.

Steve takes another hit, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhales, and Eddie watches raptly, like he’s studying him.

Slowly, the pain in Eddie’s waist subsides, and he relaxes into the sofa, staring at Steve as they pass the bong and lighter back and forth, as they nibble at the fruit from the fridge, as they sip their Cokes. Eddie doesn’t even really know what they’re talking about anymore, but Steve is smiling, so it doesn’t matter.

The room is a little brighter when Steve smiles. Eddie’s eyes are stuck.

“You’re so annoying,” he says. Steve’s smile broadens, and he snorts.

“What the fuck did I do?”

Eddie huffs, taking a hit, watching Steve. He’s leaning against the back of the sofa now, slumping. His hair is almost dry, frizzy and wavier than Eddie expected.

“You’re so perfect,” Eddie complains, mentally cursing his lack of filter when he’s high. “Even in school, fucking… Golden boy Steve Harrington.”

Steve snorts, laughing quietly, childishly. Eddie likes seeing him like this. Relaxed, his brain quiet.

“Not so perfect anymore,” Steve says softly, still smiling.

“No,” Eddie disagrees. “Still perfect.” Steve rolls his head on the back of the sofa to look at him. Eddie nods. “Golden boy, perfect golden boy.”

Steve is smiling. His cheeks are flushed but Eddie can’t tell if it’s because of the weed or not.

“I mean seriously,” he says, because he can never shut up. It’s part of his charm. (Or lack thereof.) “I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.”

Steve giggles.

Eddie passes him the bong and drains his Coke while he takes a hit.

“What do you think of when you look at me?” he asks as Steve blows smoke at the ceiling.

Steve looks at him, his eyes glassy.

“Don’t know,” he says softly. “‘S not really… like.” He takes a breath. “An image. I guess. Like, I see your face, but when I think about you, ‘s more of like…” He looks at the ground, his mouth twisting as he thinks. “A feeling.”

Eddie looks at him, his breath catching in his throat.

“What kind of feeling?” he asks, taking the bong from him. Steve barely seems to notice, looking at the ground. He’s quiet, his lips almost curved into a smile.

“Don’t know. Kinda… In my stomach,” Steve says quietly, almost mumbling. Eddie listens closely. “‘Nd my… my chest.” He runs his hand over his chest, over his heart. Eddie lowers the bong to his lap, his eyes following the movement. “Like a twisty kinda feeling.”

“Like you’re sick?” Eddie questions. Steve takes another breath.

“Kinda,” he says softly. “But like… a good sick. Like a…” He gestures vaguely with his hand, his fingers moving. “Like a fluttery sick.”

“Like… butterflies?” Eddie asks quietly.

“…Yeah.”

Eddie smiles, raising his eyebrows.

“Sounds like you gotta crush on me, Stevie.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, still staring at the ground, and Eddie wonders if he heard him, before Steve blinks and his face shifts. Hardens. His brows furrow slightly like he’s thinking, and then his eyes widen and he looks at Eddie.

Oh.

“Steve?” Eddie asks quietly, looking at him, and Steve looks away sharply, the hand that touched his chest reaching for his hair.

“Shit.”

He gets up, and Eddie’s eyes widen, and this must be the actual Upside Down, because Eddie’s world has been flipped over. The ugly paintings on the walls all fall to the ceiling, and the burnt wood in the fireplace falls up the chimney, and Steve doesn’t notice.

“Shit,” he says again. He’s pulling at his own hair, pacing across the room. “Shit.”

Eddie follows him up, putting the bong on the ground and dropping the lighter. It bounces off the carpet and lands under the sofa.

“Steve,” he says, reaching for his shoulder. “Hey.”

Steve turns when he pulls at his shoulder, and Eddie looks into his red-rimmed, teary eyes.

“‘S okay,” he says softly, pulling Steve closer. He reaches for the hand in his hair, gently pulling it away. “It’s okay.”

“‘M sorry,” Steve chokes, breathing hard, and Eddie shakes his head, reaching to hold Steve’s face.

“Don’t be,” he says softly, smiling. “Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. Breathe, Stevie.”

Steve inhales deeply, looking anxiously between Eddie’s eyes. Eddie nods.

“It’s okay,” he says when Steve exhales slowly. His thumbs brush over Steve’s cheeks.

“Eddie,” Steve says weakly. Eddie pulls his face forward and kisses his forehead gently.

“‘S okay,” he murmurs.

When he pulls away Steve’s eyes are closed, and Steve’s hands find him, hesitant and gentle and soft on his waist like he’s scared Eddie’s going to fight him off. Eddie steps closer.

“I like you too,” he says softly. Steve’s eyes flutter open and find Eddie’s.

“What?” he asks breathlessly, his eyes shining again, filling with tears.

“I have a crush on you,” Eddie says quietly, slowly. “Like a huge, debilitating crush.”

Steve’s eyes unfocus, trained on Eddie’s mouth like he’s trying to find the words written in the air between them.

“Really?” he asks so quietly Eddie almost can’t hear him.

Eddie grins.

“Really really. Like, since high school.”

“Woah,” Steve breathes. Slowly, his hands find Eddie’s cheeks, gentle over the bandage that Eddie forgot about, gentle over his skin. Eddie's eyes flutter shut when Steve leans closer, sighing when their lips brush, and then they’re kissing. It’s a brief kiss, soft and tentative and nervous, but Eddie is breathless and almost dizzy when they part.

Eddie pushes his fingers into Steve’s hair, smiling softly when Steve exhales slowly, shakily.

“I think…” Steve starts quietly, his forehead resting on Eddie’s. “…I may be too high for this.”

Eddie giggles quietly.

“We can talk tomorrow,” he whispers softly. Steve hums, tilting his head and closing his eyes.

“Kiss me again?” Steve murmurs, nudging their noses together.

“Thought you were too high for this,” Eddie breathes. He’s just as high as Steve is. The room is spinning a little bit.

“I know, I just…” Steve stops, swallowing and licking his lips and looking at Eddie with a desperation in his eyes that makes Eddie ache. “I just want…”

Eddie kisses him. Hard, and lingering, just a firm press of his lips to Steve’s, and a soft whimper escapes Steve’s throat, his hands tightening on Eddie.

Eddie kisses him again when they part, tilting his head, and then again, and again until Steve feels like he’s about to fall over, leaning against Eddie heavily.

“Woah,” Steve says again, his arms now around Eddie’s waist. Eddie grins, pushing his hair back.

He pulls Steve into a tight hug, gentle over his bandaged sides, and Steve presses his face into Eddie’s neck, taking a heavy breath. Eddie tugs him over to the sofa, and it takes them a moment to get situated, finding a position that doesn’t strain Eddie’s stitches, that doesn’t put weight on their sides. Eddie ends up on top of Steve, his head on his chest, Steve’s hand tracing over his back and slowly dragging through his tangled curls. Eddie holds his other hand and presses kisses to his knuckles before he holds his hand to his face.

And Eddie falls asleep, excited, for the first time in many long years, for the sun to rise.

[miliamin1]

Enid gets woken up more harshly than usual. Brutally snatched out of a sweet dream. Her mumbling protests are ignored as she resists getting pulled from under her colorful covers. Wednesday has her up in some wrestling move so that if she doesn’t attempt to stand, prompted up on the smaller girl  she would end up awkwardly on the floor. And so she barely stands as the world seems to be spinning and her muscles weak.

She puts more effort to open her aching eyes and commandeer her dried out tongue after seeing the hour. "Weeends, stooop, it's early, nothing can be that urgent."

Wednesday instantly throws her back on the bed. Enid almost bounces off of it when landing.

Enid groans from her head spiking in pain. But closing eyes only makes restless anxiety in her muscles more apparent instead of providing any relief. She opens them and squints at her phone.

Not only is it early but classes also got canceled, with pack group chat she lurks in blowing up with relief about that announcement.

Why the heck would Wednesday wake her up then?

"Wends, we got no classes today." 

No answer. 

When she picks her head up the goth seems to be back in bed.

But her heartbeat hasn't slowed to nothing.

Enid groans getting up and makes her unbalanced shuffle to the dark side. "Wends, is something wrong?"

"I'm not answering any questions or touching you until I get my coffee," the pretty corpse says gravelly.

Enid’s eyebrows knit together. The seer has been mighty grumpy from her caffeine withdrawal but only got short with everyone but Enid because of it yesterday. 

This change is upsetting. More than the awful state Enid’s body is in for some reason.

Enid flinches at the ping sound notifying of Yoko's message.

' Yo, do u mayhaps know how to witness protect Kate from all the furs?'

Kate isn't really popular amongst werewolves but why would she need-

Enid blinks rapidly. 

Kate.

Dinner chaos.

Coffee deal. Enid lunges for her shoes and jumps out of the dorm still putting them on. Then bounces herself off from the balustrade to sprint back again for her wallet. 

She desperately needs to buy coffee the fastest she can. 

Coffee for a kiss. Another kiss. Oh Goddess Wednesday kissed her! And will kiss her again if she will get her an iced quad! 

Enid has to thunder back to their room again. She needs a way for the drink to survive a full speed run! Her hand hesitates for a beat over the black thermocup she gifted the goth.

"It's clean," Wednesday says, so Enid grabs it and tries to leave by the door one last time.

Before she realizes that jumping off their balcony will be much faster as she almost breaks their window.

None of the few seconds she spends in the air is spent on premature realization on how much absorbing the force of the landing will affect her headache. 

----

okay so apparently a one shot is now a two shot

[hidey-writes]

wip wednesday

There’s a quiet murmur of sound in the room, movement and conversation. Gu Yiran waits, lets it wash over him until he can make sense of it. Two people speaking in low voices, the occasional lilt into a question before the sound dips back down into [murmuring]. Ding Guozhu, and Zhang Xiaoguang. The quiet metal sound of a thermos opening, and Ding Guozhu’s voice cuts out for a moment.  Zheng Bei’s voice isn’t there.  Neither is Yaoyao’s, Gu Yiran reminds himself.   It’s only that — The last thing Gu Yiran remembers, concretely, with any certainty, is Zheng Bei. The look on Zheng Bei’s face, bursting in through the door, the way his expression changed when he saw Gu Yiran, something almost frantic in his eyes. The very last thing Gu Yiran remembers is the shape of Gu Yiran’s name in Zheng Bei’s mouth — not Gu-laoshi, for once, but Gu Yiran. To Gu Yiran’s right, the door to the hospital room unlatches.  Ding Guozhu and Zhang Xiaoguang’s conversation quiets as the door swings open. First, Yaoyao’s voice, “I bet you’re all starving! Lao Jiu—” and then footsteps coming toward Gu Yiran’s hospital bed, too light and quick to be Zheng Bei’s. There’s a hurried shushing from the corner. The door closes too fast to admit a second person.  Gu Yiran’s eyes are already open. He’s already disappointed.

from the third draft! hopefully the penultimate draft - at least the one scene i have drafted feels like it's only about a draft worth of revision from being done, so i'm optimistic. i'm trying a new thing where i am simultaneously constructing the "outline" / very chaotic list of events by scene for the third draft while also starting to write it. i think i'm liking it so far.