#Wednesday Prompt Smash

[thebearthatreads]

Wednesday Prompt Smash: Werewolf Detective

I had a lot of fun with today's prompt, I hope you enjoy it!

Prompt: Werewolf Detective Word Limit: 300 words “What do you think, Lou?” “Honestly I couldn’t tell you, Franky.” Lou scratched the patch of stubble on his chin peering over the crime scene. “We don’t know where Vinnie ran off to, we sure as heck can’t arrest him if we don’t know where he is. And even if we did know where he was, without a body we’re going to have a hard time…

[deviaticn]

tag dump!!

[alltimefail]

Entertainment Weekly just placed Dead Boy Detectives on their "Top 19 Best Supernatural Shows to Stream Right Now" list.

Mind you, Dead Boy Detectives is making these lists AFTER cancelation! IT RANKED AT NUMBER 5/19 (and beat out some pretty big names, I might add). The EW is a hugely popular publication! It's so bonkers to me that Netflix would cancel such a highly beloved, successful show that I had to write them about it, yet again!

If you need inspiration to keep talking about Dead Boy Detectives and hold out hope that we can save this show, THIS should help. Keep streaming, keep promoting it EVERYWHERE, keep creating for it, and for the love of all things wonderful keep bothering Netflix. This show shouldn't have been canceled, and we need to keep reminding them of what a poor decision they're making. ESPECIALLY with GeekedWeek coming up, we need to be SUPER noisy for and about Dead Boy Detectives.

A transcript of the email I sent out today can be found below the cut! A list of Netflix exec emails can be found HERE.

!!!! Note: you can use my email as a framework or as inspiration, but DO NOT copy and paste it word-for-word, or else it will be marked as spam !!!!

Dear [Insert Recipient's Name],

I hope this email finds you well! I previously reached out regarding Netflix's unfortunate decision to cancel Dead Boy Detectives, but since our previous correspondence, there have been several articles admonishing the surprising and untimely cancelation of Dead Boy Detectives. The publications include but are not limited to BamSmackPow, CBR, CHIP, Quotenmeter, Serienjunkies, Serienfuchs, Filmstarts, Movie Pilot, Kino, Vodafone Deutschland, Dread Central, Pop Culture, Sentidog, Geek Girl Authority. and Animation World Network.

Three notable articles have come out post-cancelation that I'd like to highlight due to their succinct, well-informed perspectives on why canceling Dead Boy Detectives was a poor decision are as follows:

The Death of 'Dead Boy Detectives' Was Untimely by Lacy Baugher at Tellyvisions.org

Dead Boy Detectives: The Latest Casualty in a Concerning Trend of LGBTQ+ Show Cancellations by Sam Huang at TellTaleTV.com

Netflix made a grave mistake canceling 'Dead Boy Detectives' by David Opie at YahooNews

It would be remiss of me not to emphasize how these publications are not just central to the US and UK; the cancelation of Dead Boy Detectives is being reported and scrutinized internationally, in several languages and countries.

What truly prompted me to contact you again is an article that was released by Entertainment Weekly today, September 11, 2024. In the article, "The Best 19 Supernatural Shows to Stream Right Now," EW placed Dead Boy Detectives in the #5 slot: it outranked other shows on your platform such as Stranger Things (#13) and Wednesday (#18). The Sandman, the show which Dead Boy Detectives is a spinoff of, is notably not present on the list at all. You can find the article here on ew.com.

Dead Boy Detectives was also ranked as the #1 Best DC Live Action Show available on Netflix by MovieWeb, outranking titles such as The Flash (which has a whopping 9 seasons), Lucifer (a show that was so loved by fans that Netflix picked it up after its own untimely cancelation, mind you) and, yet again, The Sandman.

All this to say, Dead Boy Detectives is still making "Best of" lists even after its cancellation, and it is ranking exceedingly well on said lists! This speaks volumes in and of itself; people are just as outraged today as they were the day it was canceled and it's abundantly clear that critics and audiences alike love this show and want to see more of it! You have a hit show on your hands that is growing in popularity daily, meaning Netflix truly has everything to gain by listening to customers and rethinking this objectively unpopular and unfounded decision.

Please do not waste the immense potential of this incredible show that means so much to so many people. I appreciate your consideration today and implore you to listen to the outcries of fans and critics alike, to do right by the cast and crew of Dead Boy Detectives, and ultimately repeal its cancelation.

Sincerely,

[Your Name]

[ladybyakuya]

꒰INTO MY KALEIDOSCOPES꒱  ‧₊ SUGISHITA KYOTARO !

ஜ ˗ˏˋ summery ˎˊ˗ ⇝︎ There is a Japanese word to describe the sense a person has upon meeting another person that future love between them is inevitable. This is not the same as love at first sight. For example, your smell was never unfamiliar.

~ Rebecca Perry, Beauty/Beauty; from 'Kintsugi 金継ぎ'

ஜ ˗ˏˋ content warnings ˎˊ˗ ⇝︎ fem!reader x sugishita kyotaro ﾉ mature ﾉ online dating ﾉ aged-up characters ﾉ angst ﾉ fluff ﾉ eventual smut ﾉ pining ﾉ worldbuilding ﾉ character study ﾉ slow burn ﾉ more tba.

꒰ ONE ꒱ ⊳ 0.6k word count

꒰ TWO ꒱ ⊳ 1.0k word count ≡ prompt writing

꒰ THREE ꒱ ⊳ 1.0k word count ≡ collab entry + prompt writing.

ஜ ˗ˏˋ notes ˎˊ˗ ⇝︎ This is just an impromptu mini-drabble series that I keep coming back to and often at times I end up writing more. I don't have anything concrete going on but a vague plot line so if you enjoy my writing you'll have to be patient and pray that I get sad once in a while ( generally it is a monthly occurrence, uhm! sad girl hormones ) so yeah see you in next chapter >:)) sub on ao3

ஜ ˗ˏˋ playlist ˎˊ˗ ⇝︎ perfect ( smashing pumpkins ) by wednesday ‧₊ almost fantasy by fog lake ‧₊ daggers by dhruv ‧₊ kokomo,IN by japanese breakfast ‧₊ takes me back home by the wasia project ‧₊ more to be added.

[mikavlcs]

Whispers in the Dark

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: After a harrowing nightmare, Wednesday tries her best to bring you comfort.

Warnings: soft/ooc!wednesday...you have been warned

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: @vorsdany and i did a matching prompts challenge, so make sure to go read hers as well -> Take Me Home

(also if you think that this is just a worse iteration of this story by tumblr user missmonsters2, you are absolutely correct! go read hers as well<3)

Masterlist

Wednesday Addams adored nightmares.

There was nothing quite like the rush of adrenaline she got when she escaped from the clutches of a particularly dreadful nightmare.

The way the terror could persist for hours after, leaving behind a lingering sense of dread that heightened the senses, was addictive. As far as Wednesday was concerned, it was one of the greatest feelings in the world.

The flashes of technicolor terror and monochromatic mania quickly became her favorite part of the day. The perfect precursor to the torture she would have to endure when she woke up and was forced to interact with her fellow classmates.

But this, unfortunately, was not a very widely held opinion. For most, night terrors were a blight, not a blessing.

And she was so graciously reminded of this when Thing came tumbling in from the balcony, movements more frantic than she’d ever seen before. It was odd, she thought, given both the late hour and the fact that he was supposed to be staying with you for the night, but she still didn’t spare him a glance.

If he had a problem, he could consult her after her writing hour. Enid was off having a sleepover at Yoko’s, and she was intent on taking advantage of the rare quiet in her dorm.

However, Thing wasn’t one to be deterred. When he failed to get her attention, he jumped onto her typewriter, smashing a bunch of keys beneath his fingers and effectively ruining the page she was working on in the process.

Wednesday blinked, then twice, brows raising in surprise. Her fingers curled into fists, jaw clenching against the rush of anger that coursed through her. Slowly, she bit out a low, murderous, “Thing—"

But her biting tone had no effect on the hand. He interrupted her once more, tapping out the same message over and over. 

She surged forward, intent on grabbing the hand and locking him in her drawer for the next week, but then she started paying attention to what he was saying, the message he was trying so hard to convey.

And once she properly received it, she was out of her chair in an instant, her ruined page already forgotten.

Wednesday moved through the maze of corridors like a shadow, footsteps swift and silent to avoid the attention of any roaming teachers. Whether Thing was following or even able to keep pace with her was irrelevant to her, his message was the only thing on her mind.

Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

It played on an incessant loop, making her heart pound against her chest with a vitality that threatened to break the surrounding ribs under its weight.

That vitality made her quicken her pace. When your dorm finally came into view, she slammed the door open with an urgency she would later consider humiliating.

Moonlight cascaded in through the window, cutting through the murky darkness of the night and providing Wednesday with just enough light to see the barest hint of her surroundings.

Dark eyes scanned the room for any immediate threats and when it became clear that there were no attackers or monsters lurking in the shadows, she took a breath and began to properly survey her surroundings.

Her gaze first caught on your desk, the stacks of books and papers neatly resting on top of it. Then your bed, unkempt and noticeably empty despite the early hour. And finally, she saw you, your normally vibrant form reduced to a shaking silhouette curled up beneath your window.

Wednesday took to languages very easily and the language your body spoke was no exception. Within months, Wednesday was able to read you with the same ease she did her favorite novels, spines slightly worn from use and pages annotated to absolute perfection.

So the calligraphy tucked in the tight furrow between your brows, the letters the light tremble in your shoulders scrawled, and the words the bags beneath your eyes printed for her were deciphered in moments.

And it all came together to definitively prove the hypothesis that began forming the moment she stepped foot into your dorm.

You had a nightmare.

This wasn’t the first time. Since that night when the school nearly burned down, it seemed to happen a lot. The incident had a firm grip on you, and it showed no signs of lessening, but it didn’t deter Wednesday any.

Because even now in the darkness, hugged tightly in the grasp of fear, you were luminescent.

Approaching slowly, she kneeled before you, caught your wide, teary eyes. Behind her, she heard the door shut softly, signifying Thing’s arrival, but she kept her attention solely on you.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

The question itself was a gamble. Many nights you would just shake your head and suffer in silence, leaving Wednesday to just be there with you and hope her presence brought forth some form of comfort. But it seemed tonight she got lucky.

“It was about the Hyde—Tyler. He…he ripped you apart, and I—” You choked on a sob, bringing both hands up to dig the heels of your palms into your eyes. “I just watched.”

She hummed lightly. Unsure of what to say, she lamented, “Sounds frightful. I wish I could’ve been there to see it.”

A wet laugh reached her ears, causing an effective stutter in the steady beat of her heart. Your hands were brought back to your knees, but you were still crying, still held firmly in the clasp of your dream. 

And despite her inherent discomfort, Wednesday wouldn’t stand for that.

Things like comfort and physical affection were your forte, not hers. But you were there for her in her darkest hour, unwavering during her torturously vulnerable time just after the defeat of Crackstone that she shuddered to think about even now.

When the weight of everything finally crashed down on her and threatened to shatter her into a million pieces, you were there to hold her together in soft but steady arms. So she would do the same for you.

Hesitant hands cupped your cheeks and rough thumbs wiped your tears in uncertain yet gentle strokes.

“Tell me what I can do for you,” she urged, attentive eyes looking for any legible signs to interpret.

“Just stay,” you whispered. “Please.”

She nodded. She was already wearing her sleepwear, so a change of clothes was unnecessary. The only thing left unattended was…

“Thing, go back to my dorm and throw the paper in my typewriter carriage out. I will rewrite it entirely tomorrow.”

Your face fell at her instruction, and Wednesday could read the lines of guilt clear as day in the fall of your shoulders and dip of your brow.

“If I’m interrupting your writing—"

“You’re not,” she injected sternly, moving one hand to grip your shoulder. “You asked me to stay, so you’re stuck with my torturous presence for the rest of the night. Whether you like it or not.”

The beginnings of a smile played on the edges of your lips, but before you could respond, Thing scurried up to your side and gave you an inquiring tap.

“Hey, buddy. Sorry, I ruined our sleepover. I’ll make it up to you I promise.” You extended a pinky down in his direction, which he promptly wrapped his own around. A pinky promise, if Wednesday wasn’t mistaken.

Usually, she would scoff at such childish affairs, but you were full-on smiling now, some of your usual vivacity seeping back in, so she let the moment pass without comment.

Her eyes followed Thing as he left. Sure, he had ruined her writing (something he would be punished for in due time), but he had admittedly done well to immediately notify her of what happened.

She would have to give him something, she decided. Maybe one of those scented lotions he was always trying to steal from the Jericho convenience store.

Once he was gone, she stood, tugging you up by your shirt sleeves and pulling you back to your bed. Gently, she shoved you down, and only once you were completely settled did she slip between your sheets and lay down next to you.

Crossing her arms, she raked her eyes over your tired form, lingering on the hand resting in the space between both of your bodies. Temptation, soft and sweet, pulled at her, but she stubbornly resisted.

“You won’t have to worry about your sleep being hindered anymore.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, exhaustion making your eyelids dip. “Why not?”

“I’ll steal your terrific dreams away for my own enjoyment,” she informed, lips quirking slightly. “I could use the pick me up.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” you teased. Wednesday shot you a sharp look at the flagrant slight to her character.

“Insult me like that again and night terrors will be the least of your worries.”

A chorus of sleepy laughs arose from your lips, and even with your eyes half-lidded and only the faint light of the moon to illuminate your features, Wednesday could see the fondness in your eyes. “Of course, Wends.”

She huffed, redirecting her gaze to the ceiling.

“Go to sleep, we have classes tomorrow.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. She barely had time to finish her sentence before your eyes closed again, breaths already beginning to even out.

Still, she waited minutes longer, until she knew you were deep within sleep’s embrace, to reach down and rest her hand over your outstretched one, curling her fingers lightly around yours.

Wednesday had never been one to hold superstitious beliefs of any kind. She made sure that her mind remained rooted in logic at all times, but she wanted to believe that this physical connection would somehow help transfer the horrors that plagued you to her.

So she then could keep the terror at bay and revel in it while you enjoyed whatever pleasantries your mind conjured in its place.

And if that didn’t work, then she would be more than happy to slay the demons that haunted your dreams with her bare hands if need be.

[maxybabyy]

loosely inspired by that dropout prompt of having sex at abstinence-camp.

His face prickles under the hot sun.

It’s been like this since he arrived at camp. Daniel itchy from the heat, face flushed like he hasn’t been using SPF 50 twice daily. Waking up feeling raw, tender in a way he hasn’t before. His temper is fucked too, he reckons, feels probably like a live wire would – jittery, shaky.

“Daniel,” Max says, voice soft as he tugs on his arm. “What is this? I thought – always Wednesday we are in the kayaks. I have even my vest here already. What will we do indoors?”

Daniel looks at him, at the bright pink vest stretched across his chest. His shoulders are burnt, skin flaky where Daniel had rubbed in the aloe vera. His sheets smell of it now, and he thinks, maybe, that’s part of it too – why he feels like this, sensitive. Allergic to that too, probably.

“No worries, Maxy. I will take lead on this, just. Watch,” Daniel tells him, shakes him off as he walks to the front.

Behind him, Max purses his lips but he falls into step quickly.

“Alright, everyone! Listen up and gather round,” Daniel calls out. He hauls the box of pamphlets up from the floor and shoves a handful into Max’s hands, makes him pass them out. “Find a seat and fill your glass with water.”

They like for them to keep it fresh, trying out new ways to show it so the kids won’t become bored. Last year they had done tape on the arm, the year before that, paper balls. But Daniel thinks this will work too.

“Daniel, what does this mean, danger zone?” Max asks, a frown etched deep in his brows. He hasn’t handed out the pamphlets yet, eyes skimming across the front of one. “HIV – Daniel, if you are worried about this, you should of course give them condoms and tell them to be safe. This will not help them.”

“Today, we are going to be talking about your flower,” Daniel says, pulling the pamphlets from Max’s hands and placing them in the middle, ready for them to be taken, shared. “As you can see, you should all have a glass of water in front of you –“

He knows it’s the first year Max is with them, that he had come without any experience, a recommendation from his youth group even. But he had fit in well, stuck to Daniel like they had been mates for years.

There had been a flood the first week in, tore down the cabin that Max had been in charge of. So they had squeezed together in Daniel’s bed instead. Obviously like, Daniel had offered to sleep in reverse, with his head in the foot end, so they wouldn’t touch dicks. But Max had told him, “I will sleep like this, then you of course can be behind me,” and so that’s what they had done.

Only once had it been like, weird.

Daniel had been dreaming about this hot-ass, blonde beach babe, with like, short hair and her nipples out, the swell of her tits barely there as they fooled around on the shore. She had been reaching into his shorts with nice, warm hands – built for tennis, maybe. Or like, paddle, probably – when Daniel had woken up and come in his pants.

Max had watched him sneak back into bed, blue eyes sharp in the dark, and the shame Daniel had felt – hot, persistent, raw – still hasn’t washed away.

“And when you tip it over – go ahead, tip it over! Careful not to smash the glass,” instructs Daniel now, ignoring the way Max hovers behind him. Water flows from the cups, soaking the tables. Only one pair manages to break the glass, but Max is there like a hawk, nudging them away before cleaning it up.

“Now take your cup – Billy, Jody, join up with someone else – and try to put the water back into it.”

The room blooms with frustration, water sloshed onto the floor, and another glass shatters. And even then, the glasses stay empty. Forever changed by one small misstep.

“See how it won’t go back in? That’s what losing your virginity is like,” Daniel says before stepping back. He knows the in-group conversation is more important than anything he can tell them, the quiet reflection. To put it into perspective.

“Daniel, this is of course so silly,” Max says, almost directly into his ear. Daniel shivers from the shock, pulls his shoulders to his ears. “Always you can just put more water in, and no one will know,” he says, pouring water from the bottle into Daniel’s cup.

“See? It looks full again.”

Daniel frowns, looks at the cup that does, remarkedly, look like it did before. “Obviously that’s not the point, Max. It’s not the same. You can never put the water back into the –“

“What is virginity, Daniel? The cup or the water?”

“Obviously it is –“ Daniel says, scoffs at him. He feels the flush of frustration tear through him, how it makes the tips of his fingers buzz, his knees weak with defeat. His chest feels – weird. Like his heart is beating from somewhere else, his throat maybe, or his head, loud in his ears even.

“What does it matter? If it’s the cup or the water. It’s an analogy, Max!”

The worst part is, Max doesn’t even look upset. Confused, maybe, but there’s no part of him that looks the way Daniel feels right now. Hot and bothered, angry at the world, at Max.

“Well, it’s a shit analogy then,” Max says and smirks, and for a second, Daniel hates him.

“How the fuck would you know?”

They’re supposed to be partners, is the thing. Daniel had asked, told the boss to switch the pairs around, to make Max his mate. And the summer had become all the better for it.

Max likes all the same shit as him: racing karts and skinny dipping at night when the kids are asleep. He touches Daniel like they’re best friends, wrestles him to the ground and doesn’t get up until he says uncle. Even the shit he doesn’t care about, he pretends to like for Daniel’s sake.

Once, Daniel had like, sprained his wrist falling from one of the trees. It had been right around his birthday too, and Daniel had felt like shit, side-lined from all the activities. Max had found him in the cabin, eyes wet with tears, homesick. And he had just – laid down next to him, held his hand and told him about home until Daniel’s heart had felt light and free.

Now he sucks in a breath to calm himself. But in the end, it doesn’t even matter, because Max tugs on his arm as soon as Daniel looks at him, curls his hand around his elbow and says, “Daniel, I am of course not a virgin.”

[kandisheek]

Cap-Ironman Rec Week 2024

Early Canon Wednesday: July 24th

Prompt: Bring on all those fanworks set in those heady early days of canon where Steve and Tony have just met and are starting to work together.

Aaaah yes, the good old 2012 tower era. We all remember it fondly. (Well, if you're like me and joined the fandom late, you don't, but - whatever. The point stands.) Here are some of my favorite early canon fics:

-- Bond Has It Covered by sara_holmes

Tony thought they had trouble getting along when they were dealing with a major global crisis. Apparently that had nothing on how they fell apart when they weren't distracted by smashing aliens.

-- All These Things I've Said by Dr_Amuly

When Tony starts talking in a language Steve can't understand--the language of science--Steve figures he'll retaliate with a little foreign language knowledge of his own. Only once he starts speaking French around Tony, Steve finds that sometimes it's easier to say what he really wants to say to Tony in a language he can't understand. Good thing Tony doesn't know French.

-- (First Impressions Are) A Work in Progress by ras_elased

Tony has a point system for the times he can get Steve to be less than perfect.

MORE RECS BELOW THE CUT:

-- Drinking Games by kahn

"Okay, house rules,” Clint said, leaning back against the backrest of the booth they were seated at. “It can't be a random celebrity, or something. It has to be someone you actually know. Someone you'd go to if you suddenly found yourself gay and then had to have sex right away." Steve thinks drinking with the team will be a good bonding session for their newest Avenger, but, as usually happens with his people and alcohol, things go kinda sideways.

-- Some Things Shouldn't Be a Chore by scifigrl47

Steve takes things like personal responsibility and respect seriously. Tony's got people he pays to take care of that kind of thing, and anyway, he's pretty sure that he's going to die of some exotic disease in his workshop, because Dummy's still a little spotty about what is 'clean' enough to put on an open wound. The rest of the Avengers are in this for personal gain, except for Clint, he just enjoys being a dick. And some things shouldn't be a chore.

-- Theory of Mind by seventymilestobabylon

Or, five things Steve didn't let Tony buy him, and one thing he did.

-- This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

“Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.  “Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.  “I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started. “Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.” “Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

-- i stole the keys to this guy by kellifer_fic

Where it was Nick Fury's idea, but he didn't mean it like that.

And two of my own fics:

-- Cozy

Tony seems to have a propensity to hug Steve whenever he's sleep-deprived. Which would be all well and good, if Steve had any idea why Tony chose him of all people to be his personal teddybear.

-- What You Don't Know Can't Hurt You

Steve and Tony are good friends. Very good friends. The kind of friends that go out to eat every other day, cuddle on the couch and are all up in each others' space. They're not dating though. No matter what the team says. Right?

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 13 - Prompt: Jail @jegulus-microfic December Daily Series - 498 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

James was avoiding him. That was the only logical explanation for his sudden disappearance every time Regulus entered a room. By Wednesday, it seemed to be a habit. James didn’t even look up from his phone before wandering away when Regulus entered the inn’s gym.

While the reaction was in fact, logical, Regulus hated it. If there was one thing he disliked even more than being shadowed, it was being ignored. Being caught between the bars in a jail of his own making was infuriating.

The worst part was when it happened while Sirius was mid-conversation with him. James would suddenly turn and leave, while his brother trailed off in confusion. Regulus worried that the progress he and Sirius made would be lost if this continued. It wasn’t tenable to avoid him entirely.

Finally, he had enough. If he didn’t sort this out, he would end up strangling the man. Regulus followed James into the bedroom when Sirius was in the shower. He closed the door and locked it, then leaned against it.

“Wait, what…” James trailed off, looking for an exit. When his gaze landed on the window, Regulus glared.

“Don’t even think about it. This is the second floor.”

James gestured wildly. “I don’t have any other options!”

“You could stay?” he snapped. Regulus inhaled deeply and reigned it in. “I mean, I want you to stay.”

“Me? Why? You said it yourself. You’re here to see Sirius.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave. This is ridiculous, and it’s annoying Sirius.”

James threw his hands out in frustration. “What should I do? You clearly can’t stand me. I’m trying not to ruin everything for Sirius!”

“Can’t stand you? What are you talking about?”

“If I’m close to you, you run away! You look at me like I’m a threat, like you think I’m going to eat you.”

”No, I don’t!” Regulus protested, crossing his arms. “You’re overreacting.”

James stomped across the room, then flailed his hands in front of Regulus’s face while nonsensical noises poured from his mouth. Regulus jerked back so fast that his head smashed into the door. He stared up with wide eyes.

“See! You’re doing it again!”

“You twat!” Regulus huffed and shoved at his chest. “You scared the fuck out of me.”

James didn’t step back. He braced his hands against the door on either side of Regulus and let his forehead drop until it rested against his own, in defeat.

“Just tell me what to do, Black. Tell me to piss off, and I will, but if you want me to stay, you can’t-”

Regulus covered James’s mouth with his hand and swallowed hard. They were too close. He needed to move or he would do something stupid, like snog James. That would ruin everything.

Or fix everything.

Pandora’s voice in his head was proof that he was going mad. Completely, obscenely, beautifully… Hazel eyes pleaded with him, dissolving every thought from his mind.

Shite. I want to kiss him.

Next Part>>>

[nenelonomh]

hello, loves

good morning! happy saturday! i have a coffee and some coffee-flavoured oatmeal by my side this morning as i write this post. usually, i only have a drink, but i woke up earlier this morning and so naturally, i was hungrier earlier.

i've been racking my mind on how to come up with good content to post when i return to school and honestly, i considered going on a break until next holidays. luckily, i didn't stick to that idea. i'm going to be sticking to a posting schedule (still daily queued posts), but i'm only going to be posting larger posts on monday, wednesday, saturday.

this change is because i didn't get the grades i'd hoped for last term, so i need to focus more on school than the blog. the food blog will still be running wednesday, saturday posts.

fortnightly, i'm going to be releasing an issue of 'the elonomh times', which will be a cute digital magazine that will include the fortnights (and bonus) posts and learning. at the end of each issue, there will be some journal prompts and activities!

anyways, back to today. this morning i woke up and stretched for half an hour. i'm definitely grateful that i have stretching routines from previous sports because it allows me to be effective without using my laptop so early in the morning (e.g for a youtube follow along).

i haven't been doing proper training this week, since i'm on my period and honestly,, it's worse than usual (the period part). i have been going on long walks in the evening to make up for the lack of training, though.

today i'm going to smash out all of my to-do for today and tomorrow, to give me a chance tomorrow to rest (even though i have to go to work).

here's a little list: ☐ meal prep for the school week ☐ finish ALL holiday homework - maths homework q's - physics homework q's ☐ go for a walk ☐ message charlie (a friend i haven't spoken to in a while) ☐ vacuum bedroom ☐ change bedsheets ☐ spanish daily study

i hope you all have an amazing day!

❤️joanne

(images are from pinterest)

[v3nusxsky]

Hi, can I ask for an angst with Larissa like maybe some sort of fight that ends with some accident like idk maybe a car one or sth and reader is in bad state at the hospital and Larissa cries and begs unconscious reader to not leave her and that she is sorry etc? And maybe the doc enters and says that reader had more luck than they think and she and the baby should be fine. And Larissa cries more with mixed feelings of guilt and happiness because they tried for a kid for a long time? I leave the ending for you ;* thank you ❤️

Don’t leave me| Angst

*Authors note~ my heart I sincerely apologise for what lays ahead.*

Trigger warnings~ angst car crash mentions pregnancy loss

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

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Arguing with your lover was something you always hated, your anxiety would go sky high and your abandonment issues would flare up. But you'd had your fare share of arguments with Larissa but she'd always stayed. Never had she left during an argument, maybe another room but you always knew she would come back. And she always did until tonight.

You'd had the worst fight ever, really your missed your wife's presence but understood her job yet missing your anniversary was the last straw. You lots your cool and decided on a drive. You only wanted to clear your head but realistically getting in the car so upset wasn't the best idea. Of course rational thoughts weren't occurring for you so you indeed got in the car and drove from the shared house.

You don't remember what happened exactly but you remember the sounds of horns, and a blue car slamming into the drivers side of your car. The windows smashing around you as you lost your consciousness. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be. You didn't even get a chance to talk to Larissa, to give her the surprise but now you had killed your self and your daughter.

Larissa Weems went to find her lover, after all she didn't want this to happen, she didn't mean to hurt you. Wednesday Addams was causing her no end of grief and unfortunately you suffered the consequences of this. She knew you were in the right here but as soon as she heard the door slam shut she couldn't help the guilt eating her alive. Maybe that's why when you didn't return she began to pace and attempt to control her panic until her phone rang.

"Your wife's been in a car accident, unresponsive at the scene and is currently being taken to Jericho Hospital" replayed through the blondes head as she drove to you on autopilot. The last words she said wouldn't leave her brain and that's the last thing she wanted you to hear. And what about the baby? Oh god she couldn't lose the both of you. God what had she done? The what if situations driving her insane as her heart ached in the unknown. And the disappointment in herself rising with every passing second. If she just didn't spend so much time chasing after Wednesday Addams or if she made you feel special and loved more often then this wouldn't be happening.

Larissa wasn't known for patience, her status as headmistress of Nevermore often gained her access to things she typically wouldn't have, and that her connections with the mayor made it much more easy for her to obtain. It was no surprise that when the beautiful six foot three woman came barging in the doors that she was immediately directed to the room in which you lay unconscious and pretty badly bruised but no other signs of massive damage. The monitor attached to your beautiful bump showing that your precious baby was alive for now.

"We aren't sure if she'll wake up, and if that's the case then we need to operate and save the baby" the nurse informed your wife while you lay there willing your body to work. "I'm sorry baby! I love you so much. Please don't leave me. I'm so so so sorry sweetheart, you're my world. Our little sunshine is okay, their hearts beating away. Fight angel please I can't lose you. I'm so so sorry" she sobbed clutching at your hand as if it would some how make a difference.

God knows how long she sat there like that, crying and apologising to you, but the moment your eyes fluttered open and you immediately drew your attention to her hands on yours. "Ris?" You croaked out before your eyes found the monitor. "Sweetheart! I'm sorry I'm so so sorry I didn't mean to love, I can't lose you." She rambled as she grabbed some water to hopefully soothe your throat. After a small sip you couldn't help but murmur, "is she okay?"

"She? It's a girl" Larissa whispered which had you nodding with tears in your eyes, "it's what I wanted to tell you tonight, on our anniversary, that we are having a beautiful little princess." Larissa's hand soon found its way to cradle your daughters bump, "our little Dahlia Rae? I'm so in love with you" she murmured as you nodded in response, "I'm in love with you too baby, I'm sorry for fighting and driving upset. I'm so glad we are okay, to be with my favourite human ever."

You'd spent the past few days in hospital just for precautionary measures, but Larissa never left your side for a second. You thought maybe she'd relax once you made it home, but no you and Lia were treated like queens and even the night you gave birth, Larissa vowed to never make you feel anything less. She stood cradling the beautiful newborn, looking down at her with such and adoring smile you felt like your heart grew twelve sizes. One silly argument would never defeat the love you shared.

Word count~ 984

Tag list ~ @enchantressb @fortheloveofaproditesblessings @medeaswifey @scream-queenlover @larrisalessopet @briennethebeautysstuff @xx-state-of-mind-xx @i-write-sometimes-maybe @farahtissaiamyloves @just-your-casual-nerd

[the-al-chemist]

Shoreside Conversations

A/N: @drinkyoursoupbitch’s idea to restart Worldbuiding Wednesday was one of her best yet (and she has many great ideas). It’s brought a little fun back into writing, and this little short story has been incredibly fun to work on. Based on this prompt from the First Lady of Soup herself:

Warnings: mild innuendo, severely bad lying.

The spring evening was light but cool, with the sky turning a rosy shade of pink and the crescent moon starting to rise before the sun had finished setting. Outside, a gentle breeze was blowing, but it couldn’t reach the interior of the seaside restaurant where, at a table by the window, three witches were chatting over a bottle of fizzy wine.

The wizarding community of Great Britain had been at peace for almost a year, but Artemis’ friend Penny had only recently returned to England, having escaped to France with her young family when the war first broke out. Penny had always been a social butterfly, and so neither Artemis nor Chiara had been surprised when she had invited them both for dinner at the Italian restaurant that had opened near her family’s beach house in Cornwall less than a week after she had come home.

”It’s just wonderful to see you two again,” Penny told the pair of them, almost breathless over the top of her wine glass. “I’ve really missed you both.”

“We’ve missed you, too.”

“So,” continued Penny. She had that all-too-familiar expression on her face, the one she always had whenever she was hunting for gossip. “What’s new with you?”

Artemis had never known Chiara to be the first in a group to speak up, so she volunteered up a piece of information about her life. “I’ve started a new job.”

“Another one?” Penny’s eyebrows shot up, but she quickly regained her composure. “I mean, that’s good. What are you doing now?”

“I’m a case investigator for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

“And? Are you enjoying it?”

“Yeah.” Artemis nodded. “I am, actually.”

She was half-expecting Penny to ask her more questions — more personal questions, at that — but Penny had decided it was Chiara’s turn.

“What about you, Chiara? How is work? How are things with Jae?”

“Work is… busy,” said Chiara, her voice as soft and lilting as Artemis had always known it to be. “But, St Mungo’s have welcomed me back without kicking up a fuss about the whole” — she lowered her voice to the point that she almost mouthed the words — “werewolf issue.” Her lips pursed slightly before she spoke normally again. “And things with Jae are good. Never better, really. Actually, he asked me to marry him last weekend.”

Across the table, Artemis could see that Penny was almost vibrating with excitement.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said. “Did you say yes?”

Chiara’s mouth curved into a shy smile. “I did.”

Artemis braced herself for Penny’s squeal just in time. A couple at the neighbouring table looked over, clearly concerned, and Artemis shrugged apologetically at them before congratulating Chiara. Penny, apparently too excited to sit still, rose from her chair and half-leapt around the perimeter of their own table to hug their friend. In her excitement, she knocked the handbag she had hung on the back of her chair, causing a tiny glass bottle to fall out of it.

Before anyone had a chance to catch the bottle, it plummeted to the ground and broke with a tiny, high-pitched smash. Immediately, the air was filled with a smell that was overpowering, intoxicating, and overwhelmingly pleasant. Artemis breathed in the scent, feeling both more relaxed and invigorated as she did so. Across the table, Penny’s blue eyes widened into circles and the colour rose in her cheeks.

“Oh, no. Oh, dear.”

“Don’t worry, Pen,” Artemis said. “If anything, the place smells much better now.”

It really did. Whatever had spilled out onto the floor smelt good, at once sweet and salty, smokey and earthy, and…

“Penny.” Chiara’s voice cut into Artemis’ thoughts. She had one palm placed to her nose, and above her hand her usually pale cheeks were flushed and her pupils fractionally dilated. “Is that what I think it is?”

Artemis had no clue what Chiara thought the little bottle had contained, but her suspicions were clearly correct, because Penny nodded her head sheepishly. Chiara sighed, though whether it was out of satisfaction or exasperation, Artemis couldn’t tell.

“Merlin, I haven’t smelt that since sixth year Potions class,” muttered Chiara.

Not having taken Potions classes past her fifth year, Artemis was still none the wiser. “What? What is it?”

“It’s Amortentia.”

“Amortentia?”

Penny shushed Artemis whilst looking over both shoulders.

“It really isn’t what it looks like,” she whispered. Artemis and Chiara exchanged glances.

“I think it matters more what it smells like, to be honest,” said Artemis. “What are you doing carrying a vial of Amortentia around in your handbag?”

“Well, technically it isn’t actually Amortentia. It’s a perfume made with Amortentia. They’re very popular in Paris, you know. I’m actually writing an article about it for the next edition of the S.O.U.P. Quarterly.”

“For the what quarterly?”

“The Society of Occupational Unctioneers and Potioneers. It’s for anyone who works in the potions industry, or in a line of work where potions are needed for use. Actually, Chiara, you may be interested in joining. We are always looking for new members, and…”

“And what about the Amortentia?”

“Oh, I’ve been asked to write a guest piece for the Society journal. It’s the first time, and I’m rather excited about it, actually,” Penny explained. “I thought the perfume would be really interesting to write about, seeing as it’s not such a common thing to see over here yet, but now that the war is over, I’m certain that it will become rather fashionable.” Her eyes had lit up. Perhaps it was because she was talking about her favourite subject, or it might have been the effect of the Amortentia on the floor. “How it works is, they put the Amortentia into the perfume, and when it’s worn it makes the wearer more… Well, you know, appealing.”

By the time Penny had finished talking, her cheeks were pinker than Artemis had ever seen them, and the couple at the next table were paying so much attention to one another that they hadn’t noticed the waiter who was trying to take their orders.

“I think it works, you know.”

The three witches looked across at the couple before silently giggling into their wine glasses.

“Maybe we should all start wearing it,” suggested Chiara. She was clearly joking, but Penny nodded in earnest.

“I have some samples I’m using for the article, you can have them when I’m finished.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to—”

“Don’t be silly, it’s no problem at all. I’ll just owl them to you. You too, Artemis.” Before Artemis could protest, Penny continued, “You’ll be glad of them once you meet someone.”

Artemis almost choked on her wine. She composed herself as best as she could before responding, “Yeah. Maybe. Thanks.”

She had assumed that her answer would be vague enough to not arouse attention, but it appeared that she had underestimated Penny Haywood.

“You’ve already met someone?”

“No,” Artemis said quickly. Too quickly.

“Oh, my goodness. Who?”

”No one.” When Penny pursed her lips in blatant disbelief, Artemis sighed. “No one that you’d know.”

“You never know, I might know them,” said Penny. She had a point, Artemis realised. Penny’s list of acquaintances was never-ending. “So, what’s his name?”

There was no way out of this, Artemis could tell. Still, she couldn’t help but scan the room looking for an exit. As her eyes wandered, they happened to land on the name badge of the waiter serving the neighbouring table.

“Mario.”

“Mario?”

”Yeah, Mario.” Artemis nodded definitely. “His name is Mario.”

Penny frowned. “I don’t think I know anyone called Mario. Is he someone you work with?”

“Yeah. Well, sort of,” Artemis corrected herself. Penny was bound to know one of her colleagues — or, if not, she would at least know someone else who did — and she wouldn’t have put it past her friend to ask others about Mario. “He’s a Magizoologist, but he doesn’t work for the Ministry. He lives abroad usually.”

That wasn’t entirely untruthful, and even Chiara seemed half-convinced. Artemis took a sip of wine in order to hide her face behind the glass.

“So, what does he look like?” asked Penny. “Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Just your type, then.”

Artemis wrinkled her nose. “Is it?”

“Well, yes.” Penny laughed, but she still wasn’t finished with her interrogation. “So, how long have you been seeing him? Have you talked about the future yet? Are you worried about how it’s going to work out, what with him living abroad and you living here?”

The room suddenly felt very hot. Artemis shuffled in her seat, trying to quench her sudden need for movement. Her chest had tightened uncomfortably, but she hid the sensation by shaking her head and laughing.

“Calm down, Pen,” she said, as breezily as she could muster. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?”

“I dunno. I guess I just don’t think the Mario thing is… It’s not very serious. At all. You don’t need to think too much about Mario. Forget I ever said anything about Mario.”

The look on Penny’s face made it clear that she was disappointed, but Chiara smiled gently.

“As long as you’re happy, Artemis,” she said. “That’s the main thing, isn’t it, Penny?”

”Oh, yes. Yes, as long as you’re happy.”

“Thanks.” Artemis put her glass down. “Anyway, Chiara, you’re going to have a wedding…”

It was the perfect distraction. Penny sat up so straight in her seat that her buttocks almost seemed to hover above it, and turned her attention wholly to Chiara. Artemis sat back in her own chair and let the other two women talk, letting the pitter-patter of conversation wash over her. It was familiar and warming to sit and chat with her friends, as long as she didn’t allow herself to think too much about the moments when Rowan would have said something wry and clever, or Tonks something witty and outrageous, if either of them had been there to say anything at all.

By the time she and her friends left the little seaside restaurant, Artemis’ head was fuzzy with the mixture of wine, Amortentia perfume, and thoughts of those who were and always would be missing. She Apparated back to Bill’s house, nestled in the dunes of another Cornish beach, and found Charlie sitting on the sand, setting fire to a small pile of driftwood without even using his wand.

“What are you doing?”

Charlie did not even look up from the driftwood. “I’m making a fire.”

“Without me?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to get back.” Charlie shrugged. “Do you want to grab some drinks and snacks, or have you had enough at dinner?”

Artemis probably had had enough, but she couldn’t see any harm in a little more. She snuck into the house and took a half-full bottle of Firewhiskey, two mugs, and a packet of marshmallows from the kitchen before returning to the beach. Charlie had succeeded in lighting his Muggle fire, and she sat beside him, watching the flames flicker against the indigo backdrop of the sky and sea.

“How were Penny and Chiara?” asked Charlie, as Artemis poured him a glass of Firewhiskey.

“Good.”

“And the dinner?”

“Tasty.” Artemis held out the marshmallows to Charlie in way of an offering, but he declined them with a wave of his hand. She pierced a marshmallow with her wand and held it over the fire, where the flames licked at the sides of it. “It felt strange, it just being the three of us.”

“I’ll bet.” Charlie glanced at her. “You want to talk about it?”

There wasn’t much more to say about it than that, so Artemis shook her head. Charlie nodded his own, and in silence, lay down on his back. Artemis kicked off her boots and let her bare toes dig into the sand.

“Oh, guess what? Jae and Chiara are getting married.”

Artemis had expected some sort of surprise or excitement from Charlie, but he gave her neither. Instead, he only said:

“So, he finally got around to asking her then?”

“Wait, you knew he was going to ask her?”

“Yeah, he’s been planning on it for months. He’s told me about it every time I’ve seen him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

Charlie shrugged. “It wasn’t my news to tell.”

“I guess that’s fair enough,” said Artemis. “Just so you know, if Jae mentions anything next time you see him, I have a new boyfriend called Mario.”

Slowly, Charlie lifted his head from the sand. He turned his face towards Artemis, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Penny asked me if I was seeing anyone,” Artemis explained. “And I told her I wasn’t, but she could tell I was lying—”

“Shocking.”

“— so I just told her I was going out with a guy called Mario.”

“Of course, that’s what anyone would do in that situation,” said Charlie, completely straight-faced. He propped himself up onto his elbows. “And what did you tell them about this Mario?”

“Not much, just that he is a Magizoologist and that he’s tall and good-looking.” Artemis glanced across at Charlie, who was looking at her with his eyebrows furrowed. “But it’s not anything serious.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Charlie blinked and shook his head. “And, they believed all of this…”

“I think so? I mean, I changed the subject pretty quickly. Penny was happy to talk about Chiara’s wedding and this soup club she’s joined.”

“A soup club? As in the food?”

“No, it’s for potion people. She’s writing an article about Amortentia for their journal and spilled some on the floor of the restaurant. You wouldn’t believe how much it smelt.”

“I would,” said Charlie. “I still remember when Jae made a cauldron full of the stuff in our dormitory in fifth year.”

“He made that in your dormitory?”

Charlie nodded. “Oh, yeah. Stunk the place out for weeks.”

“I mean, at least Amortentia smells good,” Artemis reasoned.

“True, but it did make for quite a few awkward mornings, if you know what I mean…”

In a way, Artemis wished she didn’t know what Charlie meant, but she couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face.

“What did you think it smelt like?” she asked him. “The Amortentia?”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a very personal question.”

“Good job that we are very personal friends.”

Artemis raised her eyebrows at Charlie, whose lips twitched and eyes looked out over the sea in the distance.

“A few different things, really,” he said. “Sort of like the garden back at home, and a bit like the air after bonfire night, though that might have been because of him setting the bottom of the cauldron on fire. And it smelt like Christmas.”

“Christmas?”

“Hmm. Like pine trees and… marzipan? It was very sweet and a bit nutty.” Charlie glanced at Artemis. “Yeah, it was nuts, alright.”

There was a look of mischief in his eyes that made Artemis roll her own. Charlie laughed softly to himself.

“And you?” he asked. “What did it smell like to you?”

Artemis frowned as she tried to remember the smell of the Amortentia, and found the scent easier to recall than she had thought it would be. It was as if the smell of the perfume had lingered in the air around her all the way back to Shell Cottage, but then, that might have been because of the salty breeze rolling in from the sea, the Firewhiskey in her glass, the leather of her boots discarded on the sand beside her, the marshmallow toasting on the end of her wand.

“I guess it sort of smelt like this.”

Charlie smiled, and Artemis popped her toasted marshmallow into her mouth before lying down on the sand beside him, face up towards the stars.

[thebearthatreads]

Wednesday Prompt Smash: Power behind the throne

A/N: This will be probably be the last Wednesday Prompt Smash piece until September, I hope you enjoy it! Prompt: Power behind the throne Word Limit: 300 words Carlisle was tired. He had been tired for what seemed like an age. His work in all it’s intricacies never felt as if it was done, there was seldom a moment when he could release the reigns. And he never did, heavy was the weight of the…

[ehc-on-ao3]

Wednesday's Stalker Secret Admirer

(The impetus for this rather silly idea: Wednesday is listed as a horror comedy series. I recall something about the overall plan for season 2 of Wednesday to ramp up the horror aspect. But what if it went the other route and ramped up the comedy instead?)

Wednesday Addams.

Dark. Brooding. Stoic.

Utterly mesmerizing.

Socially inept.

Terrifyingly gorgeous.

The source of many people's pain and suffering.

Hero of Nevermore.

But most importantly?

Target.

The stalker had spent months studying the gothic shadow in twin pigtails, knew her moves, her thoughts, her patterns. They started this cat-and-mouse game at least a dozen steps ahead of the amateur detective, prepared to taunt, mock, threaten, then finally kill her in the most humiliating way possible. It was destined to be their magnum opus! If it wasn't for one small, tiny detail:

Wednesday Addams simply didn't get it.

What the stalker did not (could not in a million years) anticipate was that Wednesday would utterly misinterpret every single text, written letter, and threatening package delivered to her door as the attempts of a secret admirer to win her love rather than a bloodthirsty stalker hellbent on rendering her dead and buried.

The animated .gif of her getting skewered by a butcher knife netted the response of, "Clearly you are an individual of refined taste. I approve, though with reservation."

Huh? Never mind, try again, this time via a physical letter written in blood delivered to her door. The response via text?

"I appreciate the thoughtfulness of the letter, though I believe my heart has been snared by another. My advice: in the future, try vellum, as it will not allow the blood to seep through to the envelope and spoil the surprise."

And the response to the decapitated cat speared into her front lawn?

"Your attempts at courtship, though admirable, are no longer desired, for I am now in a committed relationship. I shall, however, remember the gifts fondly as it was a first for me. May you find happiness in another soon enough."

Okay, no more screwing around. Time to break out the big guns.

The stalker, of course, followed Wednesday back to Nevermore, quickly discovering the identity her paramour: one Enid Sinclair. Recently-turned werewolf, bright where Wednesday was dark, smiling when the other frowned. But most critically, the chink in Wednesday's armor. What better way to extract a bloody revenge on the girl than by targeting her loved one? A few discrete photos, a overly-threatening message sent via text, and bam! A thoroughly shaken Wednesday ripe for the picking!

Right?

Wrong.

"While I am not unfamiliar with the idea of courting more than one paramour at a time, I am uncertain if Enid is willing to share. I shall bring it up with her in the near-future and respond posthaste. However, I would not hold out much hope as werewolves tend to be territorial. It is, after all, a stereotype for a reason."

While the stalker is busy screaming and violently smashing anything breakable in their vicinity (how did she not get it?!), Wednesday is true to her word and reveals the various messages to Enid. In an attempt to be more open and honest, she had already advised Enid of the existence of her secret admirer during their break (which had immediately prompted Enid to finally get off her tail and ask Wednesday to be her girlfriend), but this would be the first time she actually shared the images with her girlfriend.

A girlfriend who was as territorial as Wednesday anticipated. Enid was adamant that Wednesday cease contact with her admirer, though Wednesday didn't understand the vehemence behind the request. Her admirer was dangerous? Sick? The messages and gifts the acts of a madman? Wednesday nearly rolled her eyes. Untrue. This was simply someone who understood the intricacies of an Addams courtship. Still, while the admirer had intrigued her, Wednesday only had eyes for Enid. She would abide by her request and cease all contact. After one last message, of course.

"As I anticipated, Enid is not open to a poly relationship. She has also understandably requested I cease all contact with you and I shall abide by her request. Consider this my final message."

Wednesday then proceeded to "block" the sender on her phone. While she didn't understand jealousy herself, she knew it had the potential of poisoning a relationship as quickly as hemlock (to a normie, anyway), and would take whatever steps Enid requested in order to be a proper significant other.

Cue the stalker sending even more messages to Wednesday's phone via multiple burner accounts.

Cue Wednesday becoming exasperated at the now-unwanted amorous attention from her secret admirer, then handing Enid her phone to "finally block them for good."

Cue Enid seeking the assistance of the Nightshades to locate this stalker and make good on her promise to Wednesday to "finally block them for good."

Cue a whole lot of violence and screaming.

Cue a bloody Enid kissing the oblivious but always insanely attractive Wednesday who all but melts at the attention. While she adores her time with Enid, she can't help the shiver of excitement at Enid finally getting into the Addams way of courtship, blood and all.

[oh-no-another-idea]

Seven Snippets tag X

Thanks for this one, @winterandwords @tabswrites and @dogmomwrites! <3 Let's do some Bent Nails or Something, since I haven't played this game with new baby wip yet ;)

1.

Michael sat and breathed and let the past be the past. “I’d like to meet Angela,” he said. “I think it’d be nice to have her stay.”

Nick smiled at him and said no more about it. Michael promptly tried to forget the whole thing.

2.

“It’s not snooping, it’s exploring,” [Angela] said, in the same voice she’d been using on Sutton since the words consisted of look, Sutton, it’s an airplane! Open wide!

5.

Michael owned six memories of his father. He had liked microwaving sliced cheese on a piece of bread until the whole thing was a sticky congealed mess that only a five-year-old could’ve loved. Michael had watched the timer count downward and he remembered his father’s hands handing him the melty gooey goodness. There had been a braided cord bracelet and a watch on his wrist.

4.

Sutton’s stomach dropped into her sandals. “No,” she said, quickly growing just as distraught. “No, I can’t, you don’t understand.”

“I sure don’t,” [Jacob] said.

“I have no money,” Sutton told him. “Not like, more than thirty bucks. And you can’t go to my mom for it because we’re here to see if she and Nick are compatible and should get married and live together forever and I can’t be a problem, not now, not when things are going so good. She’ll kill me, and then she’ll leave Nick and I’ll be the ruination of her happiness. Again, probably.”

5.

“You think it over,” he said, pulling a sharpie out of his pocket. “Come see me on Wednesday and tell me your decision. Give me your arm. Come on, give it to me, I’m not gonna chop it off.”

He took her wrist and pushed her sleeve up, writing on her arm with the sharpie. An address flowed to life in ink. 28 Winston Farm Rd.

“That’s permanent marker,” Sutton said blankly, staring at the ugly letters on her skin.

6.

“I kinda sorta maybe accidentally smashed someone’s windshield,” Sutton mumbled, looking at her sandals. “And they said I could pay it off by helping them out for the summer. I need to know how to use a hammer.”

7.

“Now where was I—” he turned, spotted Michael with his back to them, saw up above his head to get the beam near the ceiling, and faltered.

“What should I do next?” Sutton prompted.

Jacob shook his head like a dog in a rainstorm and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Uh,” he said, and tore his gaze back to her. “Well, unfortunately, we gotta clean up the mess we’re making. We need some garbage cans.”

Whew! Congrats on making it down here if you did, and if you didn't, well it's time for tags ;)

@reneesbooks @charlesjosephwrites @eccaiia @mister-writes @talesofsorrowandofruin and anyone else who'd like to share <3

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @bloodmoonloveletter, @honeybewrites, and @orphanheirs!

Wip Excerpt/Wednesday/Share Tag

Is this long as hell? Yeah, but I like full context. Anyways, here's To the Stars and Back

Channeling what magic he could—barely a noonday shade after the drakeling fight—Djek tried to stick her feet to the floor, a burst of nausea twisting his stomach into knots as he did. He watched as shadowed tendrils began to wrap around her greaves, prompting the knight to look down with a vague curiosity. Not exactly the sickened terror he’d hoped for.

“Oh, that is unexpected.”

As if cutting through a stubborn rope, she slashed down with her sword. Impossibly fast, a glowing, ethereal river followed the weapon’s path, leaving black spots in its wake. The light, and the searing, numbing severance of his spell, caused Djek to scream. On the other side of the room, Izjik stumbled, clutching her head as if disoriented.

His magic! It was gone! That bitch!

Wait no, the rest of it was still there, but all connection to the spell he’d cast had been utterly dissolved. Desperately, he tried to dredge up any remaining power, holding back vomit as he did.

“No, I think that’s enough from you,” the knight reassured, “We don’t want you hurting yourself after all.”

Another mighty sweep sent a wash of that celestial river crashing into him directly. Instinctively, Djek put his hands up to guard, but the illusory water just swept through him and into the depleted pool of his magic.

And it stayed there.

All at once, the world around him went dull and cold and wrong. Djek collapsed to the ground, shaking uncontrollably.

It was gone. Really gone now. All of it. It was like she’d sliced off his hands or cut out his eyes—all at once, a sense Djek had never truly been aware of was gone.

“M-m-my– M-my– m–”

It’s gone! It’s gone! It’s gone it’s goneit’sgoneit’s—

“I’m terribly sorry, I know how unpleasant that can be for you sorcerers,” the knight said sadly.

A weak, strangled sound caught Djek’s ears. It took him a moment to realize he was screaming.

“What the fuck did you do to him!”

From her crouched position, Izjik rose to face the knight, a deadly snarl on her face. This one didn’t carry any strange cast of starlight though. This was all Izjik.

Without warning, the selkie hurled a handful of bandages at her. The knight batted away the white streamers with a look of worried confusion, but by then she’d taken her eye off of the enemy.

Sliding into a low kick, Izjik swept the knight off of her feet in a crash of metal on metal. In her good hand, she clutched the guidestone of her washava, its rope wrapped around her forearm, and in the bad she held a stolen scalpel. Stradling the downed knight, she plunged the scalpel toward her face.

There was a flash of gold as the knight grabbed Izjik’s wrist, struggling to hold the powerful selkie at bay with both of her hands. This was only a distraction though. Djek watched as, with her good hand, Izjik began to smash the guidestone into the breastplate of that magnificent armor.

Over and over again, like a piston in a foundry, she slammed the stone into the armor. The knight gave a cry, but as her arms wavered, Izjik’s other hand began to drop towards her face, forcing her to endure the slow caving in of her chest plate.

Kill her! Djek prayed with an intensity he’d never known before. His mind was numb, his magic was gone. Everything was wrong, the world was dull and deafening and itching and pulsating all at once. His skin was not his own. He had to get out of his skin!

Or kill me, because, gods beyond, if there was ever a hell fit for the worst of sinners, this is it.

They all sat in that purgatory, beat after beat, slam after slam. Blood trickled from the corner of the knight’s mouth, but still she persisted. Djek watched as, ever so subtly, Izjik began to slow, her rage subsiding. And in that moment, the knight took her chance.

Wrapping her legs around Izjik's waist, the knight twisted, slamming the selkie onto the ground beside her and using the momentum to reverse their roles. Now, Lady Daedryn was on top and she did not hesitate.

There was a flash of gold as her gauntleted fist cracked into Izjik’s temple. Once, twice, three times and the selkie was still. Daedryn’s blood dribbled down onto her cheek from the woman’s nose and mouth. Even in his agony, Djek felt a surge of fear. He realized that, up until now, he’d never seen the knight truly angry.

Now, there was a feral rage in those eyes. A feeling only born from fear repurposed. It was gone in an instant though, replaced by a gentle regret as she observed her victim’s battered face.

“You know, I really didn’t want it to go like this.”

Slowly, she turned her gaze towards Djek. Hands still shaking like a man dying of hypothermia, he tried to drag himself to his feet, pulling his little utility knife from his belt as he did. His knees buckled though, and he slammed back into the ground, nearly impaling himself.

“L-lea-leave us a-alone,” he gasped, the violent spasms of his jaw nearly taking his tongue off.

His entire body felt like it was made from pins and needles, but even so, Djek pulled himself onto one knee. Weakly, he slashed at the knight as she approached, blood splatter covering the side of her serene face. She’d probably kill him—that’s what happened to the little people when forces of cosmic good and evil had it out—but maybe Izjik would be able to regather her wits in the time it took the knight to dispatch him.

If this agonizingly numb state was permanent, dead would be better.

“No, I am afraid I can’t do that,” Lady Daedryn confessed, “But I do believe I may have overdone reining in your magic. Most sorcerers have more power to counter. Not that you aren’t powerful, I’m sure!”

The knight rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment, wincing at her social lapse.

“Oh, but you’re not listening, are you.”

Djek wasn’t listening. He was trying not to pass out as the very blood in his veins lit up with imagined electricity.

“Here, let me, um, let me get that for you. And I’m sorry for the punch.”

As if beckoning an unruly dog, the woman waved her hand over Djek’s nearly-prone body. Following her motion, a wave of that same ethereal liquid flowed out of his everything. From his bones, his eyes, his blood, his soul, the holy magic dislodged. All at once, the world came back into focus.

Drawing in a ragged gasp, Djek retched and clawed for air like a sailor in a tempest. His body was his own again! Around him, he could feel a constant pulse and shiver, like the dissonant heartbeat of the world. This was magic, it had to be.

I can feel magic. I always could. And now it’s back!

A dreamy smile drifted across Djek’s face. He was whole again. He was remade.

Wait, why did she apologize for–

In the corner of his eye, there was a flash of gold and Djek’s smile dropped faster than an unlucky thief off the side of a building. The next thing he knew was an explosion of pain across his temple.

Huh, why am I looking at the ceiling?

And then all was black.

I'll tag @finickyfelix @magic-is-something-we-create @kaelie-quill @ray-writes-n-shit and anyone else who wants to jump on :)

[lsttpn]

ok

so

lestappen rbr teammates but everyone thought that charles wouldnt fit in at redbull and he proved them wrong by bonding with max verstappen so hard that they become unbeatable in grill the grid

so bare with me and get this

charles announces his departure from ferrari and everyone is shocked because this guys breaths and lives and loves and adores ferrari even in the worst moments so they are like wtf is happening

when he announces that his move would lead him to rbr, they are like wtf are you doing you will not survive verstappen you will be out of place you wont get on with the guy at all

he was out of place because he still felt like an intruder but he quickly got over it because simply max

so, he liked max, that was obvious. like he would not deny in that. charles knows that he liked max since he was a kid but he coped with it when the inchident happened, he coped when max entered f1 three years befor him, he coped when austria 2019 happened, he coped when 2022 happened.

so he couldnt do much about it because it was. a crush. yeah

he thought hey since we are teammates i can get over it and just bond with him like a normal person and just get him as a friend off track and a rival on track

simple

but jesus christ max is so nice that its painful

its terrible. max is nice and thoughtful and a cool guy and pretty and hot and ugh charles almost regrets not resisting another win of barely points so that the merc seat would open. almost

almost because he and max just work so well. off track, on track, everyday every time they meet they just.. click

and its funny too because he knew even before he came to rbr that they click, he knew since he was little and he let other people be convinced that they will not work because they have no business in thier relationship and stuff but being so close to max made him aware of this constantly

and its enjoyable being in eachothers company and they are so relaxed with one another that they start a genuine strong friendship which led them to random talks at 3 am on random days of the week at eachother houses

this is where its starts

they are expected to film a video for the first grill the grid of the season at the next gp

while they cant know what they will be made to do, max knows a couple of people from f1/fia pr and he could easily get the info on what they are suppose to do

he tells so to charles one night while they were hanging out in monaco, maxs flat, just eating takeout and playing fifa

now charles is a competitive person and he hate losing at those videos and is absolutely fed up with being called a babygirl himbo so he tells max to hit those pr people up and beg them for the prompts so he can study them and win

max, another competitive person, absolutely agrees with charles and they shake hands: dammed be the actual champion, that they sure will win but the grill the grid champions is more important at 1 am on a wednesday

so they start to prepare themselves by studying for the video and they are doing study dates between interviews and team debriefs

and they absolutely smash the competition

they both come first, tying ofc and they are absolutely ecstatic

so they do that again and again

some of those challenges are made to be for both teammates so they work even better when they are together, placing first by a margin not only in the championship

and its so fun, the study dates and the absolute nerding they both do and it makes them even closer

at one point,on a study date they have their fluffy oh moment and they just.. get it now that the feelingtm are revealed

and they are fluffy and in love and they do their little cheater stuff and at the end of the season, when they are drunk because they won the constructor championship and charles won the drivers one, one of them slips up that they cheated the whole grill the grid season and every other driver is enraged (mainly geroge and lando tbh thats how i see it)

and they are like tf why did you tell charles you have contact with the pr people?? to max and he says something like i wanted him to win no matter what. in a casual tone

and charles is literally so drunk on love at the moment and says someting cheesy like yeah even if you cheated you still won my heart and its cute and nice and fluffy and tooth rotting sweet and just

lestappen bonding as teammates

and so sweet

ugh its 3 am im done i love this concept i changed it 2 times tho

anyway if you read this ty!, it was a lil thing i had in mind and i couldnt resist not to write it

and ik quality is probably bad, its because this is the first time im writing someting like this but i could not care less ( lie i really hope its at least readable as in i hope there is coherence)