#another snood

[blossoms-phan]

think about this all the time like girl… wyd

[thestuffedalligator]

The duchy was founded - unofficially - when some enterprising little thief had read through the royal lawbooks, looking for loopholes like a worm trying to wriggle its way through a brick, and had discovered that while the king's men could follow a man across mountains, forests, and plains, they were not granted the same jurisdiction over bodies of water.

This had started the popular idea amongst the kingdom's criminal underbelly that if a thief took a boat and paddled out into the middle of a pond, the king's men technically couldn't do anything about it.

Of course, the realist interjected, it'd never work; if you tried it, then you'd be one thief in the middle of a pond, with all those guards waiting on the shore for you to either wash up with the flotsam or die of starvation.

Still, the idea was alluring. It hung around the popular consciousness as a thought, an untested hypothesis, an interesting fact.

It would've remained so if it wasn't for Edmund Snood, an enterprising young thief who hadn't quite enterprised an escape plan, and with the guard closing behind him had grabbed a rowboat and cast himself out into the largest of the kingdom's lakes so fast that he had skipped like a thrown stone.

And as Edmund fended off the banks and the horrible, grinning, patient faces of the guards waiting for him there, word had spread across the kingdom. Soon enough, thieves and thugs were all paddling up to the little rowboat with a sandwich and a few words of encouragement, attaboy, Eddie, show them who's boss, eh? We're all rooting for you back home!

And after four days, the duchy was founded - unofficially - when Jack "Jackal" Jaseroque had lashed his rowboat to Edmund's and took over the duty of paddling while Edmund took the first sleep he had in half a week.

After that, another boat lashed together with the two. Then another. Then four more. A lean-to shelter was built, torn down, and rebuilt bigger. Walkways were tied together. And then in a wave of tidal force, the thieves and thugs, bandits and brigands, vandals and vagabonds of the kingdom all sailed out to the little assemblage. Leather bladders were inflated to help with bouyancy. Ramshackle halls were raised. A strict rotation of paddling duty was arranged to fend off the banks.

And the tune of the realist had changed - they can't be watching all the shores, right? So if we just spend a couple days here, keep an eye out, and head out again once we've spotted a gap, then who cares about a little bit of paddling in the meantime, right?

The duchy was founded - officially - when Edmund Snood took on the role of dukedom to universal acclaim. This was also when the name of the little commune had been agreed on, as the makeshift structure bobbed gently on the water's surface.

It was called the Robber Duchy.

[ajortga]

inspiration

pairing: wednesday addams x fem reader

word count: 1.9k+

summary: you are wednesday's inspiration to end her writer's block.

warnings: mentions of blood, knives, stabbing, (but only briefly, story is full of fluff)

-

“Hey baby,” you say softly, closing your dorm door gently before you approach your girlfriend, busy with her novels on her typewriter. “Writer’s block today?”

Her eyebrows scrunch together, like if staring down her typewriter would magically have the words come to her.“I told you not to call me that mi corazon. And yes, I will admit I am quite struggling with my second book. It’s hard to incorporate feelings that aren’t just vicious. No ideas.” Wednesday says firmly, clicking on the keys before turning to you, her deep brown eyes looking in yours. 

You laugh, sitting next to her and placing a hand on hers, “Oh, but you can call me that?” You roll your eyes, taking out her left braid and redoing it for her. 

“It’s different.”

“How so?”

“Don’t question me or else I won’t call you that again, puppy.”

She looks down at your figure, tongue sticking out slightly as you tangle the three parts of her hair to intertwine. “Did you give Thing a snood?”

It’s a little quiet, faint pop music from Enid and Yoko’s room coming from outside. You smell like you just came from a garden, the black-haired girl taking the hint that you smell earthy, musky, and slightly sweet from your natural undertones.

You tie the ends as you nod, “It’s getting a little cold, don’t want him to feel left out, do we? Why? Did he tell you?”

Her eyes soften, of course no one could see when they did except you, but she glances to the glass that leads to outside. “Hinted, he wore that thing for a week already without taking it off.”

You grab the rubber band and tighten the braids, kissing her hair softly. “He loves it that much, huh?”

“Love is a strong word,” Wednesday states, not mentioning that the creature was only wearing it because he loved you as close as he loved her. “But it’s a close competition.”

“Mmmm,” you nod, looking at her as you smile. “Oh, I came in here to tell you that I gotta help babysit my nieces and nephews in an hour and won’t be back till night.”

Oh. At least she would have alone time for her new novel, Wednesday thought.

Right? 

A new novel that she has completely blacked out on, Viper de la Muerte yet to have another plot hole to discover. Now that she thought about it, maybe she should map out the feelings the girl has. What makes her angry, upset, triggered… Happy. Wednesday shivers at the thought. But what’s a story with just angst and blood? No one would want to read that if it was published. She would think about that later.

“I see,” she says, taking note of the way you’re playing with her fingers. It’s something you do when you’re nervous or hoping for a response. A response that Wednesday has no clue what you want her to speak. 

Maybe you were telling her to get some alone time, or so she doesn’t worry the whole day and search the woods high and low for you. She did do that once. When you and Enid went out for a candy run. To say the least, she was pissed.

‘Worriedly freaked out’ Mrs. Weems would say.

“Well,” Wednesday clears her throat, trying to get rid of the awkward silence, “If you need me I’ll be here.”

Oh…

If any human being were to look at you, they would see no change in your expression.

Wednesday is not a human being. She’s studied you in and out. Slight raise of your eyebrows indicated you were interested, a scrunch of the nose meant you were trying to be playful. But there were some things that she could just feel, like when there's no spark in your eyes. You looked a little disappointed.

“Unless,” the girl says quickly, “You want me to come with you?”

Your eyes widen, and the spark comes back again, she has to let out a sigh of relief. “Could you? You would do that?”

“Of course I will bab-” She coughs again, “Mi corazon. You should know that by now.”

She would do anything for you. Even if it meant having little kids tug at her hair.

You smile.

-

“I’m beginning to regret this,” the black hair girl says, slightly irritated as you bounce baby James up and down in your arms. Baby James, who is completely peaceful and giggling, while baby Mabel tugs on Wednesday’s braids, babbling and giggling. 

She gives her a hard tug on the ends, making Wednesday flare up for a moment.

“Hey, hey.” You say, quickly to your girlfriend’s side as you carry Mabel with one arm. “We don't tug on people’s hair, okay? Not me, not your brother, not my girlfriend, definitely not my girlfriend! Don’t do that.”

Mabel throws her arms up in the air and rips four strands off your hair.

“No!” You firmly say. 

“See, I’m telling you,” your girlfriend gives Mabel a cold glare, which makes Mabel giggle and kick. “I tell her to stop, she doesn’t.”

She’s got a point, but you don’t give up that easily, “We just have to be patient,” the baby brunette lifts her small chubby hands to your hair before you look at her and firmly say, “No.” She immediately stops and babbles, “Won't ...Tchhh..Touch..” 

Your eyes crinkle into a smile. “See! She did it!” You yippee.

Well, I guess these small creatures are trainable after all, Wednesday thinks.

Before you can cradle Mabel and play with her hair, two voices shout in the distance, coming down the stairs, “Auntie Y/N!” Another boy and girl stomp in, running with toys in their hands that are currently in the air.

Wednesday makes a small scowl, looking at the tiny kids stampeding up to you with giggles of joy.

“Hi guys!” You smile, being tackled to the carpet as two boys cling onto your legs and the girls jump and down around you.

They look at Wednesday, which she can almost feel their curiosity, innocent eyes searching her. “Who is she? Pretty braids.” One of the girls, Jess, asks as she looks at the black haired girl. 

She would’ve expected you to say that she was your friend, especially in front of all these toddlers, but instead, you pick Jess up and swing her in the air. “That’s Wednesday, my girlfriend.”

“Awww,” the two girls say as they babble and wave to Wednesday. “Can we touch your hair?”

You look at Mabel as she looks up at you, “Won’t tug.”

“Okay baby,” You say, kissing the top of Mabel’s head. “Don’t hurt her. I love her too much for her to go bald.”

It almost makes Wednesday’s cold heart warm up. A small twitch of her mouth smiles. A smile that only Uncle Fester would bring before she knew you. A smile that she would only feel when she solved another mystery and connected the dots. 

But you could make her heart feel like goo anytime. To say the least, seeing you all soft around kids made her feel something. Inspiration.

As you and Wednesday came home from the night, her braided hair having slight ends sticking out from all the kids admiring and playing with it, she immediately walked to her typewriter.

2 months of writer's block, 2 months of having no clue what to add to enlighten Viper’s personality. But here she was, like she had new fingers. It felt like they just knew what they needed to say as they clicked and clacked against the typewriter. Magic that comes from the start of her fingertips. You were her inspiration.

————————————— CHAPTER IV ——————————————

One thing that Viper would never like to admit, to even herself, is that she feels more than these emotions that she thought didn’t exist. She thought she was emotionless, not feeling an ounce of joy. Even the word joy made her want to tear a knife through her ragged heart. For once in her life, she felt an emotion that occurs once in a blue moon. An emotion that started to occur so many times before and after a blue moon.

Perhaps it was weird to her at first. Weird to be able to feel something deep in her soul. But she felt her ragged heart feel warm. Soft and pumping with blood. Soft enough to feel protective of what mattered most to Viper. At first, she felt eager and overly protective of her sword that was given to her as a gift. But now, she feels as though she was given a gift that was sent from above. Hell, she thought it didn’t exist till she came.

Viper de la Muerta felt soft, fond, and joyous for someone she never knew for long. She only started to know her recently, yet her family never made her feel soft. Sure, she was protective over them, but never enough to have the fondness dissipate in the matter of seconds. This girl was different, everything opposite from de la Muerta. She was happy, unafraid to show Viper her worst side, unafraid to lean a little closer to Viper when she herself was crying, she was the sun to Viper’s moon. 

Oh, and there came the toddlers. Viper had never seen this side of this girl before. She was gentle and sweet at all the same time, like she would kill to protect these little ones, or to be able to make them happy. The look in the girl’s eyes made Viper wonder if she looked at her with the same feelings.

Viper had something to look up to. Someone. And she knew that this girl was the one. As soon as she saw it with her own eyes, the person who made her feel productive all these past weeks jumped in front of her to save her life before it could be too late. She had taken a knife through her chest before it could go through Viper’s heart. As soon as the girl dropped to her knees in a flurry and saw her eyes, confused and scared, Viper was crying. For the first time in 12 years, she was crying. 

She felt all the emotions she never felt before from the span of now, and when she first met the girl. She felt proud whenever she brought something up and saw the girl light up into a smile. Upset, when she had made her cry. Worried, when she nervously scratched the chair she was sitting on, praying to Lord that they wouldn’t take her away from Viper. Anger, as she hunted the person who held the knife and hurt you. She used the same knife as she brought down the blade the 23rd time to his bloodied body. One for every day she had been unconscious. Guilt, Viper felt guilty every day you had laid on the hospital bed, eyes shut with an oxygen tank over your nose, so guilty that she wished that you didn’t come in time to save her so she could save you the trouble from being hurt. She’d survive a knife that was close to her heart. If she didn’t, she’d still wish that something would’ve happened differently so you didn’t take the blade. She felt guilty that she felt guilty about growing so attached to someone and not being able to let them out of her sight.

But she felt something else. She felt love for her, something that she couldn’t figure out before she thought it was too late. She had kept her close, reading her favorite books next to the unconscious girl in the hospital. She had talked to her like she was awake and breathing, she had held her every night till she fell asleep and got better. Viper had made sure she was safe.

Her name was Y/N.

[enwoso]

SNOW FUN — arsenal wfc x teen!reader

twelve days of christmas | day 2

based on this request

“last one outside smells of rotten eggs!” you yelled running along the corridor as the team had just got out of the morning briefing — it feeling like you had been in there for eternity.

all you’d wanted to do was go and play in the snow which had covered the ground in london through the night, waking up to a white sheet covering the ground.

“y/n- no you’d got media duties!” kim quipped back as you stopped in your tracks, the smile on your face dropping as you stopped in your tracks.

“what-“ you deadpanned, your brows furrowed “please kim. it doesn’t snow everyday in london.” you whined like a child as the rest of the team watched on as you glanced to them hoping they would help to sway your strict team captain.

“y/n you need to get it done though, these projects have deadlines” kim told you as your pout grew bigger giving the scott your best puppy eyes.

“pleaseeeee”

“oh kim just let the kid go outside” katie piped up as a glimmer of hope perked up in your eyes, you pressing your palms together praying you’d be allowed out in the thick winter snow.

“fine but y/n..” kim started but before you even had a chance to hear the hut you were sprinting down the corridor a few of the other girls following, “y/n! oh you know what forget it” kim huffed through her arms in the air slightly as she watched you rush down the corridor.

you and the rest of the team who followed you out onto the training pitches playing in the snow as some were in just a t-shirt and shorts while the rest were in thick winter coats and snoods.

you’d spent the time make a snowman with alessia, katie, beth and kyra having had a few mishaps, alessia falling over onto the small ball of snow you’d began rolling for the body as well as the body going on a little wonky but non the less the snowman still looked cool.

but now the best part was happening as the girls scavenging for sticks and stones to use for arms and legs.

“he needs a hat!” you said as you looked at him from a far a little bit lopsided but it looked cool non the less, the group agreeing with a hum as you looked around at the rest of the team. “i’ll get us a hat, hang on!” you called out getting a thumbs up from katie.

walking around the pitch you found someone with a hat, lotte! “thanks lots!” you grinned as you grabbed the hat from the top of her head a loud gasp coming from lotte as she reached for her hat but it was too late you’d took it.

“what do you need that for?” lotte asked, as you pointed to the snowman where alessia and kyra were stood over as she nodded, “i see but you could have just asked” she let out a small chuckle as you shrugged

“i’m just borrowing it” you grinned as lotte let out another chuckle leaving you be knowing you had gotten your wish of being in the snow today after complaining all morning it was going to be melted by the time you got home.

“anddd for the finishing piece” you smiled proudly as you placed the hat on the top, it actually really completing the snowman look.

“nah that actually looks wicked!” katie laughed proudly as the team photographer came over letting you take a photo with the snowman.

“less go on the other side i don’t trust you not to fall on it!” you said half joking but actually being more serious than anything as the rest laughed earning a huff from the blonde as she moved onto your other side — the side further from the snowman.

“it was once. a total freak accident ” alessia quipped back as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“tell that to the other five thousand times you’ve fallen over.. this week.” you mumbled just loud enough that the others heard as they tried to keep their giggles from slipping from their lips.

a few photos later and the team was being called in as some work actually needed to be done as much as playing in the snow was fun, there was actually people waiting for the team. that and the fact some of the girls were getting cold.

“y/n i dare you to throw a snowball at leah!” beth laughed as leah walked a few metres in front of you, you wordlessly agreeing to said dare, everyone in the team knowing you weren’t one to back out of a dare.

balling up some snow in your hands which were red raw from the cold, rushing a few yards in front of the girls you were walking with as you threw the snowball a gasp coming from katie, beth, alessia and kyra as they walked the big snowball cover leah’s hair and go down her back leading to small screech from the english captain.

“y/n i was joking!” beth laughed loudly as leah glanced back but you were already in front of her, running a mile knowing leah reaction that would be coming.

“y/n! you little rat. GET BACK HERE NOW!”

[thedreadvampy]

Guys I am BEGGING you to mask up if you're going to counterprotest the fash. They DO take photos and they DO spread them around their networks for targeting reasons.

This is not just targeted at people who consider themselves Serious Radgy Activists, antifa or anarchists.

This is for you, your mum who's angry about people targeting your neighbours, your nan who thinks the racists are being silly, your pals from the pub.

This is for everyone. We all need to stay safe at anti-racist demos.

It can feel paranoid, but things can escalate fast and it's hard to walk back once your photo's out there. A bit of overabundant caution when it's not 100% necessary is better than looking over your shoulder for years or getting jumped unexpectedly in the pub because of a photo you didn't even know was taken.

Honestly, especially with more and more police crackdowns against protesters, this is a good habit to get into at any protest or demo where there's the slightest chance of things kicking off, with fash or with cops.

You don't have to go full black bloc, but even if you're not planning on diving into the fray, stay safe - consider:

Cover your face. Wearing a mask can also help prevent COVID in your network, but if you don't have one or don't want to wear one, cover the bottom half of your face with a snood, balaclava, scarf, etc. If you need to eat, drink, smoke or vape, turn AWAY from the front of the line and ideally duck behind a banner or another person to do it. Keep masked until you're out of line of sight of the demo.

Cover your hair, especially if it's coloured or you have an interesting haircut. I usually part my mohawk down the middle and tie it to disguise the undercut, and bundle it up at the back to disguise the length, before I put on a hat or scarf - but I'm paranoid, and a hat, a headscarf or a hood will be fine. A baseball cap is good too - the brim further obscures your face from a lot of angles.

Cover up big tattoos, or tattoos that are highly identifiable from a distance. I have an upper arm sleeve and I'm honestly still working on summer options for this, but consider long sleeves for arm pieces, a light scarf/bandana for chest/neck tattoos, long trousers or leggings for leg tattoos, and/or gloves if you have hand tattoos (often the easiest to identify cause they're rarer). Even mesh or fishnet can be ok, or in a pinch you can use plasters or draw over it with a felt tip - you don't necessarily need to hide it fully if that's too hard, but try and make it harder to recognise.

If there's an accessory you often have on you in your regular life - colourful shoes, a bag with a fun design, exciting glasses frames, favourite earrings, etc - consider swapping it out for a more generic option. You don't want to put loads of effort into covering your face then get jumped on the way to work because someone recognised your backpack!

Don't help the fash out - if you take any photos, try to avoid including people's faces or tattoos as much as possible. If you post pics on socials, give them a quick once-over and consider putting an emoji or drawing over anyone's face visible.

If you see photos of someone you know at a demo, let them know (especially if they've come from rightwing accounts). If you see one of the fash taking photos, warn people and make the effort to help others cover up if they need it.

We haven't seen fascist/white nationalist mobilisation at this scale in a long time, and most people trying to help haven't dealt with this shit before. The risk factors are different to protests you may have gone on before.

Fash do sometimes come back and target people individually outside of demos if they've marked you out as an enemy. Keep safe, keep covered, keep together.

Few additional safety/security tips:

Once you've arrived at the demo, don't go anywhere alone until you're well away from the area. Stick with a buddy or a group you feel safe with and you're less likely to be jumped. Definitely don't leave on your own.

Cops are not your friends! They've been arresting as many anti-racist activists as racist ones. so remember: no comment, no personal details, don't tell them anything, and this includes blue bib PLOs. If they tell you to do something, ask 'under what power' and if they can't demonstrate that you're legally required, don't.

Don't drink or do drugs at a demo - you're adding risk for everyone around you

If you have your phone with you, make sure it's password-locked. We all sometimes lose or drop our phones and if it gets into the wrong hands you want it to be secure.

If you don't want to risk fighting, that's ok - numbers are still super important and tbh most of us aren't super keen on throwing down. Make sure that if things do seem like they might kick off and you don't think you can defend yourself, that you're moving towards the centre of the crowd and that you're not out on your own.

Look out for each other. Step in if someone's being harassed or attacked - step in as a group so you have more backing, if possible. If you're white, even if you're not able/up for fighting, it can be helpful to be part of a human barrier around people who are more likely to be targeted (eg people of colour and people who are wearing hijab/are otherwise visibly Muslim). When you're surrounded by other people, you're way less likely to get attacked.

If the fash seem to have gone, don't immediately disperse and don't post on socials that you're leaving. Especially if you're defending a specific place, it's very easy for them to wait till you've gone and come back later - give it at least an hour after the expected fash action, ideally longer.

On the flip side, don't be the last small group of people left standing. The usual rule for higher-risk demos is 'when we leave, we leave together as one' - however, for community defence, as above, doing that too early can out the people you're defending at greater risk. However, if there's like 5 of you there when 20 fash come back, you might be screwed - unless you're confident you can handle yourself, try to make sure the counterprotest crowd doesn't fall below 10-15 people. If it does, and you haven't specifically planned for that, you should consider calling it quits and leaving together.

If you're traveling to and from a demo on public transport, keep security in mind - you and the fash may be traveling to and from the same place. As much as possible, stay with buddies. Put away any signs and try not to look like you've just come from a protest. If you feel nervous, consider taking a more roundabout route home, or hopping off the train partway and getting back on the next one.

Don't do the fash's work for them. It's tempting to repost white nationalist calls to action to warn people, but you're kind of just spreading their rhetoric along with it. Instead, keep info to places, times and groups - you don't need to include the fearmongering about immigrants!

Don't post about where you are in too much detail, for the same reason - especially hotels and refuges!!! Fash are targeting those places for a reason, and when you've gone home, the people they're targeting are still there. If you post "we're at X hotel where asylum seekers live," could the wrong person see that and think "oh, that's where the bastards live, I'll remember that"? Remember, it's people's basic safety we're here to defend! Similarly, think about how much detail you share about tactics, who told you or how they knew - on social media you're not only talking to your own side.

also Stand Up To Racism have been at the forefront of a lot of these counterprotests. there's a whole sordid history there which mean a lot of people hate them, but more immediately they're just not always the best example of practical security. Just today they called time on a demo in Newcastle before the advertised fash demos were even due to start, and they are often very free with information and with people's photos. don't take your lead from them! they're playing a role in coordinating things, but ultimately they are not prepared when it comes to keeping either activists or the communities we're protecting safe.

if in doubt, skew on the side of caution - cover up more, share less info, stay in larger groups for longer, and stay later. If you come alone, it's ok to attach yourself to the side of an existing group - they'll understand.

[vaniloqu3nce]

This is honestly another one of my favorite scenes to hyperfixate on. There are very few instances in the show where we see Wednesday looking genuinely shocked/confused/disturbed and this is one of them.

This is probably just my headcanons running wild but…

While Wednesday did mislead Enid to get her there and put her in danger in the first place, you can tell when they’re being chased by the Hyde that she’s protecting Enid. From Wednesday’s point of view, this obviously means she cares in some capacity. The beginning scene of the show with the piranhas is how we know that’s how Wednessay shows she cares, not through words but actions.

As soon as she heard Tyler scream and Wednesday realized they were in danger she stuffs Enid in the dumbwaiter FIRST and then gets in and tries to protect them.

And then after all that and finding SOME clues Enid says this and she just looks dumbfounded.

Wednesday is really like, “I wear the snood, I take down the murder board, you’re not dead, what more could I do?”

I think starting here and throughout their fight, Wednesday realize Enid needs to be told and shown care in a different way than she’s normally used to. And THEN. The little affectionate speech Wednesday attempts to give to reassure Enid.

“The mark you left on me is indelible.” You can TELL our girl has learned something, look at her trying to show her girlfriend she cares after and is willing to put in effort for Enid’s needs the way Enid does her. WHAT OTHER person gets a speech like that from Wednesday. Nobody. They’re girlfriends case closed.

I know I’m probably reading too deeply into things, but I saw someone post this and my mind starting racing back to the scene and everything that followed. I wanted to share my thoughts because it’s honestly one of my favorite scenes because Wednesday is not going to outright say “I care” to Enid but she looked appalled that Enid even had to ask. I love it. This scene isn’t ran over with a queer magnifying glass enough.

Wednesday isn’t the type of person to verbalize she cares…until Enid wants to hear it. Smh our girl is whipped.

[rachelsfav-queer]

Snoods

Wednesday silently snuck past the yellow police tape, careful not to let the bright, neon color touch her skin as she entered the now twice abandoned mansion. The last time she was here… she shuddered just thinking of that horrible night. It was certainly the worst birthday ever and not in the exciting way.

Shaking off the unpleasant thoughts, Wednesday continued into the mansion, entering the same way as before.

Everything was different inside and yet exactly the same, but she wasn’t here to explore or sightsee. She was here to grab something that never should’ve been lost. The raven went straight for the stairs down to the basement and soon enough… she found it. And it… broke her cold, black heart in ways she hasn’t felt in so long.

Shredded black fabric laid across the cold and dusty floor and Wednesday dropped to her knees to pick up all the pieces, tears flowing from her eyes unbidden as she tried to hold back her sobbing. Wednesday held the tattered fabric to her chest as she cried for who knows how long, just kneeling in this abandoned house that has taken so much from her, now taken one more thing from her.

Suddenly… “Wednesday?” A voice rang out throughout the house, traveling down the stairs like the echo of lost memories.

“Wednesday! Wednesday, why are you out here again? I swear, if this is another stupid- Wednesday?! Oh my gosh, Wednesday! Are you okay? Why are you crying? What happened? Are you- hurt… oh… Oh, Wednesday,” Enid’s voice softened impossibly as she noticed her girlfriend clutching the torn snood she had made for her all those years ago.

Enid quickly wrapped the seer up in her arms, holding her carefully, but oh so tightly, just how she knows the girl loves and as she does, the dam breaks and Wednesday lets out an absolutely heart-shattering sob as she curls up into Enid’s embrace.

Endless apologies would be spewing from Wednesday’s mouth if she weren’t crying so hard that any words were just completely incoherent. Enid shushed her gently and comfortingly rubbed her back and her head.

The werewolf waited out the worst of the storm, letting her girlfriend have a very overdue and much needed cry session that would hopefully wash out most of the emotional gunk that had definitely built up inside the poor raven since the day her pet scorpion died and she had sworn off tears and emotions altogether. It was necessary, Enid knew, despite how painful it was for her to hear the smaller girl sounding so entirely broken down and defeated.

Once Wednesday’s tears had slowed and all that was left was small little sniffles and hiccups, Enid pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes and spoke, “Feeling a little better? Yeah, I’m sure you are, that was probably a literal decade in the making. Don’t worry, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Wednesday hiccuped as she looked down at the torn snood in her arms, “It’s ruined…”

Enid simply smiled softly, “It’s okay. I’m very sure I can fix it, it’ll be good as new. But… I don’t think this was all just about the snood, was it?”

The raven shook her head as she looked away sadly. Formulating how to word it all, she was interrupted before she could even speak. “Hey, Wednesday? You don’t have to talk about it, if you’re not ready for it. Take your time, okay? Besides, we should probably get out of this creepy ass house before we get caught down here or something. Principal Weems will have a total fit if she finds out we were out here again.”

Enid’s bright optimism and enthusiasm always managed to sweep away all the pain and darkness inside Wednesday in a way that she just couldn’t fathom was real. Nonetheless, she nodded in agreement and the two girls stood up and walked out of the mansion together, this time holding hands while Wednesday held her snood tightly in her other arm.

It wasn’t okay yet, but it would be, in due time. Enid was right, it just takes time. And it’s okay to not be okay all the time. As long as they had each other.

(Day 29, Prompt 29 of Wenclair-Tober. Sorry this is so late lol. I took melatonin last night and it always makes me sleep in super late lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one! Yes, it takes place in S2 time, whenever that exactly is. Weems is alive because I said so! Just remember, everyone, it’s okay to not be okay. Take care of yourselves and be patient with yourselves. Much love, Rachel ❤️)

[anonymoushuman2]

Another one of young Alicent’s dresses, only I actually really like this dress. A shock I know. The only thing I think could possibly improve the dress is changing the colour of the fabric of the inner sleeves and underdress, the corduroy fabric, just so there is a bit more contrast and it stands out a bit more. But even then I still really like this dress as it is, and I’ll be honest I just wanted to draw a dress where I didn’t have to change the majority of it and I actually liked the dress to begin with. This dress also looked great with the little fur lined cape thing. I also continue to admit I love hair snoods, and Emily Carey looks really good in one.

[talesofesther]

sweet calamity | ch 9

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that’s destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it’s easier said than done.

A/N: Softest Wednesday ever and I hope she's not too out of character lol (but cut her some slack, girl's in love c'mon). Was listening to this while writing. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 8 here

"So here's something interesting that happened last night," Enid started, teasing hinting at her tone.

You gripped a little tighter onto the straps of your backpack.

"I get back from my date with Ajax, and Wednesday greets me with a goodnight, even asking if my date was enjoyable."

You hummed at her words, kicking a pebble from the stone path you were walking on. Last night's snowfall left its mark on the gardens, white snowflakes were still clinging to some of the trees around you; there was frost on the grass; mist in the air. The scenery was worthy of a painting.

"Why is that interesting?" You eventually asked.

"She never asks me about my dates," Enid exclaimed, "like ever." Taking hold of both your arms, the werewolf stopped you in your tracks and came to stand before you, forcing you to look up at her.

"She looked happy. Unusually happy," Enid narrowed her eyes at you, wolfish grin on her lips, "did something happen while I was out?"

Sometimes, Enid was too smart for her own good. You wanted to share her enthusiasm, tell her all about last night — how hearing Wednesday play gave you goosebumps, how her lips left you breathless — yet you found yourself hesitating. Everything felt too fragile.

You chuckled humourlessly, squirming under her hold. You could feel your face heating up, "nothing happened, we just hung out for a while."

Enid audibly groaned as she rolled her eyes, "come on, I saw you two dancing at the Rave'n, didn't you finally admit your obvious love for each other?"

You frowned, lips hovering open as you connected the dots, feeling your stomach lurch with apprehension. You answered her question with another, that you felt you already knew the answer to; "was that your doing by any chance?"

"Of course," Enid told you animatedly, "Wednesday was giving me her usual 'I don't do feelings' speech and hurting both you and herself in the process, I had to talk some sense into her," she scrunched her brows, taking on a serious tone, "don't tell her I said that though."

"Oh," you breathed. You're not sure why it bothers you. To think Wednesday would do something against her will was foolish, at best; but the last thing you wanted was for her to feel like she has to be with you.

"So," Enid dragged the word, pink cheeks molded by her pinkier snood, "no special moments last night?"

"W-well, we-" you stumbled, "I mean, she-"

"Enid!"

You closed your eyes and breathed out a sigh of relief upon hearing Wednesday's voice. She walked up to you and Enid with haste, backpack held by one shoulder, scarf snug around her neck, and her black beanie pushing down her bangs. She looked worthy of a painting too.

"Wednesday," Enid turned to her best friend, bouncing on her heels with glee, "we were just talking about you."

"Thrilling," the Addams girl deadpanned, glancing between you and Enid before settling on the latter, "I'll need my partner back now."

To say Enid lit up like a damn Christmas tree would be an understatement. Your heartbeat skyrocketed at the words too, before you remembered what exactly she was talking about.

Enid emitted some kind of excited noise — undoubtedly already planning your wedding; "your partn-"

"We're partners in fencing," you cut her off before she could create a scene you probably wouldn't be able to escape too soon. After your little incident with Bianca, Wednesday made sure no one but she was partnered up with you in fencing. How she accomplished that, you preferred not to know. And if anyone as much as whispered about her going easy on you when sparring, they'd receive the complete opposite treatment.

"Yes, and class started two minutes ago," Wednesday said, pointedly raising an eyebrow at you and your lack of time management.

You mouthed a sorry to her, offering a soft smile.

"You guys are no fun," Enid mumbled to herself, hugging her sweater closer to her body.

Cold air bit at your fingertips and you stuffed your hands in your pockets. Part of you could sympathize with Enid's frustration, you and Wednesday have been dancing around each other for a while, and then she finally kisses you and… and now you find yourself holding back, afraid to let your guard down.

You're still not sure what to call what she is to you. It's not like you and Wednesday are the epitome of healthy communication.

It's almost like she feels your discomfort, "let's go, I don't like waiting," Wednesday grumbled, half extending her hand out for you, giving you the chance to choose whether to take it or not.

The way you were so quick to reach for her was second nature, softly taking her hand in yours. "See you later, Enid."

"Bye lovebirds," the werewolf sweetly said, starting to walk in the opposite direction, "don't forget what we talked about yesterday, Wednesday."

"How could I? You've hammered the idea into my brain," Wednesday huffed, but Enid was already out of earshot, which left only you to grin at her words.

It was new and fragile, but maybe also just the way it was supposed to be. Maybe it was simpler than your overthinking self made it out to be — you were focused on your feet, trusting Wednesday to lead your way with her hand securely around yours.

The comfortable silence stretched for a few moments, until you reached the end of the gardens and walked inside Nevermore's walls. It felt nice to feel normal for a change; two normal girls too shy and too in love to meet each other's eyes.

"Your hands are frigid," Wednesday broke the silence, absentmindedly brushing her thumb along your skin.

You chuckled under your breath, feeling the familiar swelling of your heart, "I keep forgetting my gloves."

You refrained from groaning when the doors to the fencing arena came into sight. Before you could push them open, Wednesday pulled you to a stop. You glanced up at her curiously; only to see her cheeks an unusual shade of pink, her jaw set tightly in place, eyes strangely a tad too wide. It's rare the times that you can visibly tell what she's feeling.

You curse the way your heart automatically expects the worst, and hold your breath.

"I was-" Wednesday tried, before averting her gaze from yours and inhaling deeply, "I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me this evening."

She spoke so quickly you almost didn't catch the words fully, but you did; and it sure felt that simple. "I'd love to."

Wednesday nodded stiffly at your answer and all but burst through the doors.

———

It takes some getting used to. Sometimes the turmoil of emotions that you make Wednesday feel gets her nauseous; she thinks she resembles a babbling idiot whenever she tries to mimic what she sees the other couples do — to say she's inexperienced in the area is a huge understatement; she's trying though, in her own way, but she is.

After a day of classes that kept her mostly away from you, Wednesday was making her way to the greenhouse, the place where she knows she'll find you. And she could feel that sensation — pumping through her body with each frantic beat of her heart the closer she gets to you — the tightness on her chest, the turning of her stomach. It's nearly painful. Dangerously addicting.

The evening sun had made its appearance, soft rays seeping through the glass walls as Wednesday pushed open the door. It was quiet, eerily so. No students were around, thankfully. She realized you liked your own dose of solitude too, it's not the first time she's found you hidden away all by yourself in the greenhouse.

Wednesday was quiet as she made her way inside, preserving your space.

You were standing in front of one of the tables when she found you, eyes focused solemnly on the flower pot in front of you as you hummed a song unknown to Wednesday. Blissfully unaware of her watchful gaze on you.

Your hands were delicate with their movements, making life bloom from your fingertips; there was a ray of sun casting over your cheek and lips — Wednesday envied the pesky thing.

You pushed back a strand of loose hair, smiling faintly when you got on your tip toes to put the flower back up on the shelf, a sea of green and gold around you.

Wednesday suddenly felt the back of her eyes burning faintly; because she refused to blink or something else, she was not sure.

But she's looking at you as if she just realized what love is.

And she could love you if she wanted to. If you allowed her to.

She thinks she already does anyway.

It's unlike anything she ever expected or wanted to feel — it's pain and bliss altogether — because she had the sudden need to be closer, to hold you, touch you; otherwise she'd spiral into madness.

And so she did.

You jumped when you felt two hands grasping at your waist, sharply turning around to see whoever thought had the right to touch you like that; yet any unkind words that were ready to leave your tongue disappeared when you were met with a pair of twin black braids you were all too familiar with.

Your skin is instantly littered with goosebumps. Wednesday's hands were firm on your waist, her thumbs barely sneaking under your shirt and grazing the skin there.

Before you could even try to speak, she was shutting you up with a searing kiss. It was different from last night; she pushed herself to you, desperate in the way her lips moved with yours — as if you hadn't seen each other in six years instead of six hours.

You took only a moment to recover, grasping at her blazer with your hands and embracing anything she'd be willing to give you.

Her lips were still as plush and warm as you remembered them, as you knew you'd never be able to forget.

Wednesday pulled back when air became an annoying necessity, all soft eyes and swollen lips. Her hands still gripping your waist, gaze darting to the mouth she'd just kissed only to see you gulp and look at your feet; away from her.

"Is this acceptable?" Wednesday found herself asking, voice raspier than usual, puffs of air coming out shallow and ragged as she regarded you with worry.

"Yeah," you were quick to breathe out, bringing one hand up and hesitating only a second before gingerly touching Wednesday's cheek, your thumb tracing the lines of her bottom lip. "More than acceptable."

"But?" The raven-haired girl raised a brow.

"I just-" you could feel your heartbeat, and wondered if she could feel it too, "I don't want to force you into anything, Wednesday." You gave her a melancholic smile, "I want to make sure you don't feel like you have to be doing this," you motioned with your hand between you and her, and she was so close you could barely breathe at all.

Wednesday's eyes shuttered with a sudden blankness and nothing could prepare you for the utterly adorable look of confusion on her face that followed; eyebrows pinching together and lips turned down at the corners as she pulled back only to look at you better.

"Never in my life would I do something I do not want to do," she said matter of factly.

You bit into your lip, one hand taking hold of Wednesday's braid so you had something to fidget with.

Straightening her posture, Wednesday gulped back her pride; "I'm not… good at this," she shook her head softly, her sudden fragility surprising you, "any of it."

And you finally see it; you see it in the way her eyes lose their sharp edges, how impossibly darker they are, shining under the fading sun; you see it in the way she insisted on holding your hand even when curious glances were thrown at you; you see it in the way she doesn't let anyone else spar with you in fencing or the way she always has an extra set of notes whenever you miss a class; you see it in the way she came after you and didn't give up even after you pushed her away. You see the way she's been loving you from day one, even if both of you didn't admit it.

"And I hate the fact that you make me want to try it anyway," Wednesday whispered, bringing you back to reality.

You huffed a chuckle, sliding your hands behind her neck to pull her closer, "you hate it?"

She rolled her eyes endearingly, "take the win," she said, before stealing another kiss from your lips.

Wednesday lingered close to you, her nose bumping yours. She didn't dare open her eyes when she asked the one thing she needed to hear you say; "so can I call you mine?" She choked out, upper lip grazing yours as she spoke.

There was a beat of silence and the Addams girl was almost already considering her early grave when you didn't answer right away.

Until you did, and she could feel your cheeky smile, "only if I can call you mine too."

Wednesday's lips twitched with the treat of a smile. It was an easy bargain.

With her hand in yours, Wednesday walked out of the greenhouse; her destination being the Weathervane, where she'd buy you a hot chocolate, and a coffee for herself and do whatever couples do together.

You wanted to stop by the quad first though.

The weight of Wednesday's hand was pleasant in yours. You took her to the middle of the quad, to where stood your finished project, at last; the big maple tree was the star in the center, surrounded by countless flowers with colors that complemented each other beautifully. Two stood out amongst them, a couple of black dahlias just by the foot of the tree, their dark color unmistakable.

"You remember I was renovating this flowerbed, right?" You asked softly, stealing a glance at your girl.

Wednesday hummed, "yes, I recall."

"I think it's finally done, what do you think?"

You watched as Wednesday's dark eyes skimmed over your work, they lingered a little longer on the black-colored flowers and your lips twitched with a smirk.

"It's nice, I'm sure Enid loved the multitude of colors," Wednesday commented, "the dahlias are a nice touch," she timidly admitted eventually.

"I thought you'd like them," your cheeks warmed up you raised both your joined hands to your lips, planting a kiss on the back of her hand before pulling her along to the main gates.

Before, you didn't understand why soulmates bring each other pain whenever they're near. But now, you can see there's something magical to it — it's the fact that, even with the pain, you won't abandon the one you love, and it's a kind of love that comes without warning, burns itself into your soul and marks your heart in the best possible way.

You admire the boldness of the universe; to create something so potentially tragic yet so delightful, so blissful.

Wednesday's shoulder bumped yours as you two walked, personal space forgotten. You could feel your heartbeats mingling.

Her hand warmed up yours.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 10 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 10

Prompt: Night

Words: 1200~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

I went into this one with no plan and this is what became of it. Should I warn for miscommunication?

Enjoy!

Soap stood by the open window, watching the few late night stragglers walk by on the pavement below, politely blowing the smoke from his cigarette outside and dispolitely using his empty mug as an ashtray. The cool air breezing in carried the inexplicable crisp smell of autumn.

He could hear Ghost’s slow breaths in the bed behind him, and wasn’t sure if the man was asleep. Usually if Ghost was awake he was as silent as his namesake, but sometimes he liked to lend Soap the assurance that he was nearby, without risking his welcome by actually approaching. 

Soap was up because he couldn’t bring himself to keep laying there. 

He’d gone to bed and had expected that as soon as he was horizontal Ghost would make himself comfortable on Soap’s chest as he always did, but instead Ghost had curled up on the edge of the bed, letting no part of himself drift toward the centre line to touch any part of Soap. He'd laid there, flat on his back, bereft. Cast adrift by the sudden distance Ghost had sought from him. The need for Simon had flared in his chest like a physical ache, but he had long ago promised himself that he would never force Ghost to do anything that made him uncomfortable. 

Soap's love for Ghost, that carried Johnny’s heart safe and warm in its jaws, was squeezing tight. Lips pulled away to bare sharp teeth that cut bloody longing trenches into his heart with every beat it dared take without being assured of Ghost’s returned love. 

Taking another deep pull off his smoke, Soap tried to think back over the day, searching for anything that might have caused this. They were on leave, staying in Ghost’s flat in the city, and they’d gone out. They both got a bit stir crazy if they stayed in all day, so they took little walks, popping into whatever shops caught their interest. Soap had thought they’d had a nice day, no one had even said anything about the plain black half-mask that Ghost wore to keep himself comfortable. 

Soap had thought Ghost looked well bonnie in his wee snood, as he always did, but people got odd about that kind of thing. 

Cursing, he dropped his cigarette. The cherry had crept down to singe his fingers while he hadn’t been paying attention. Cursing again, he bent to snatch the butt up off Ghost’s floor and hastily dropped it into the mug before its heat could nip his fingers again. 

“Johnny?” Came a quiet gravelly rasp, Ghost letting the word draw out sleepily. 

“Aye, mo chridhe. Ah’m ‘ere.” Soap assured, nudging the mug further onto the lintel, distracting himself by debating if he should rinse it now or just hang it ‘til morning. 

“What’re you doin’ o’er there?” By the bed creaks Ghost had rolled to fully face him. He’d chosen to sleep facing the door, leaving Soap the side closest to the windows. 

“No’hing, m'anam. No’ a ‘hing.” Soap resigned himself to climbing back into that cold bed, if only to not worry Ghost. 

Turning around, he was met with warm calf brown eyes watching him in what he might have called a pout if he wasn’t sure that Ghost would steal his cuspids, bicuspids, and molars for saying so. Soap suppressed a smile and settled himself back in bed. Laying to one side instead along the centre, so as to allow Ghost more room to stretch out without risk of touching. 

He stared up at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching his hands, forcing himself to be conscious of all his limbs, so none could habitually stray over to Ghost’s tempting warmth. 

“Johnny?” Ghost was still watching him, Soap could see that much without turning his head. He hadn’t rolled back over to face the door. Hadn’t turned his back to Soap again. 

“Aye, Lamb?” Soap answered, trying to keep his tumultuous emotions out of his tone, while not letting it fall alarmingly flat, “Whit d’ye need?”

“Feel better?” The question was hesitant, like there was more hiding underneath that Ghost was afraid to say. 

The thought of Ghost fearing him in any manner punched a hole straight through Soap’s soul. 

Throwing himself upright, he turned to Ghost, remembering at the last moment that he didn’t want to be touched and clawing his fingers into the pillows instead of letting them hold Ghost’s face. He loomed over Ghost for a moment, nose-to-nose, watching the black of his pupils swallow the brown of his eyes, then Soap's higher thinking kicked into gear and he backed off as quick as he could.

If Ghost wasn’t keen on being touched, Soap getting in his face like that was probably the last thing he wanted. 

“Aye, Ah’m guid, Si.” The casualness Soap tried to project was completely undercut by the way he’d barely stopped himself from entirely falling off the bed and was currently addressing Ghost whilst precariously perched on the bottom corner of their mattress. 

“What’s wrong?” Ghost sat up, but made no effort to close the distance, the worry creasing his face pouring acid into the new hole he’d bored through Soap’s soul. 

“No’hing!” Soap tries for a smile, “Jus’ no’ sure if ye wan’ed me close like tha’, as ye dunnae wan’ me touchin’ ye.” 

“What? Why wouldn’t I want you to touch me?” Ghost’s honest confusion confused Soap.

“Iffin ye didnae wan’ me tae no’ touch ye, why’d ye not-” Soap scrabbles desperately for any word that isn’t some form of cuddle, fails, and gestures helplessly to the centre of the bed. Where they’d usually be cooried up and sleeping away at this time of night.  

“You said your knee hurt!” Ghost exclaims, “I didn’t wanna make it worse!” 

“Ye didnae say tha'! Ye jus' laid nex’ tae me, keepin’ away frae me like ye wan’ a divorce!” Soap can feel tears pushing at the back of his eyes, it’s a bit horrifying how the very idea of Ghost leaving him makes him want to cry. 

“I don’t want a divorce! I just didn’t want to hurt you!” There's a frantic edge to Ghost’s voice and he’s swinging his hands in wide explanatory gestures, as he only does when he’s truly worked up. 

“Well, ye failed.” Soap sniffles, pressing his hands hard against his eyes, as though he could physically dam his tears, “Ye no’ wan’ing me is hur’ful.”

A hand clamps around his wrist and Soap is hauled up the bed to be crushed against Ghost’s chest.

“I always want you, Coinneach John Mactavish.” The words Ghost breathes against his hair ring like a Priest laying a curse, like a Witch casting a blessing. Resounding with layers and levels of passion, belief, and sanity.

Johnny takes the time he needs to calm himself, held tight in Simon’s arms, basking in his warmth and how he presses his lips against Johnny’s temple in one endless kiss. 

“Will ye’ lay doon wi’ me, mo chridhe?” He raises his head to stare earnestly into Simon’s eyes, not able to rid his voice of the small uncertain plea that creeps in. 

Ghost answers by physically lifting Johnny off his lap, planting him in the middle of their bed, then flopping onto his chest to pin him there. Reveling in the delighted laugh that chases the shadows from Johnny’s eyes. 

They lay chest to chest, heartbeats slowing, breathing each other in. 

“Johnny,” Simon grumbles into Johnny's pecs, “We’re not fuckin’ married.”

“So ye dae wan’ a divorce?” Johnny exclaims with a theatrical gasp, pulling back to stare at Simon with wide betrayed eyes.

The pillow that immediately smacks him across the mouth is a small toll to pay for the fit of giggles that steals a smile onto Simon's face as he playfully tries to smother Johnny's snickering.

Thank You For Reading!

My notes for this prompt were "Sleepy cuddle fluff" and I suppose we got there in the end.

Simon likes sleeping on top of Johnny because it reassures him that Johnny is near and protected. He also hates feeling pinned down or trapped so switching is out of the question. Johnny loves it, Simon's like a warm weighted blanket.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[mydollsaregay]

@americangirlruinedmylife asked me if i had seen AG’s website today and for a minute i was so wrapped up in the revival of Julie’s floral jumpsuit that i straight up didn’t even see the other historical drops 😅

anyway i love this fit SO much. i was devastated when i got back into collecting and saw how expensive it was, so i am very pleased to be able to have a version of it (though they changed the sandal color for some reason?? it’s odd but im fine with it - I have some tan ones I’ll switch them out for).

the other thing I’m definitely going to be getting is Addy’s birthday dress- my Addy only has her pjs so i’m pumped to be able to get another fit for her!!! also I just love her birthday outfit. her snood is super fun, and I LOVE the checkered apron.

(I kinda wish the book was sold separately though, as I believe I already have a copy and. Y’know. Money.)

i actually LOVE the idea of the limited drop IF they end up doing what I think they’re going to do. they dropped just the birthday/spring outfits and books during the season when they take place….

I think they might be doing a seasonal release of each book and accompanying outfit??? 🤔

based on how much got left hanging around on sale for molly and kit, i think they might be trying to broaden the audience while limiting the amount they have to stock by doing these three girls at once - they could be planning to rotate out items as they add each new book and accompanying outfit, which I actually think is an extremely cool idea. there’s no way to know for certain until we hit summer and the next wave would release (if im not totally off base), but we’ll see 👀

[problematic-camren]

"What is that on your neck?" Yoko tilts her sunglasses down to take a good look at Wednesday's suspicious bruising.

Wednesday stares at her, not blinking, while Yoko squints her eyes trying to figure out what sort of creature that has victimized her friend.

"Did a vampire bite you??"

"Of course not."

"It better not be, dude, because I'll be hurt," Yoko scoffs.

"May I ask why?" Wednesday asks, her tone monotonous as usual. "How are your emotions correlated to whatever bit my neck?"

Yoko jumps off the table and sits beside her friend on the bench. Wednesday immediately moves a foot away, but at least she doesn't walk out anymore.

"See, if it was another vampire, I would be offended, right?" Yoko explains. "Because I'm a whole ass vampire, Addams, and I've been begging you since forever to lemme taste you... So if I hear you've been offering your pale neck to some random bloodsucker I'll be terribly pissed."

Wednesday stares at her emotionlessly. But she gets her point. She, too, will be annoyed if Yoko allows herself to get staked in the heart by a stranger instead of her.

"Well, I assure you it was not a vampire," she shrugs, biting into her bacon strip.

"I'm still curious though."

"It pains my heart to say that your curiosity will never be satiated, as I am not inclined to divulge the source of this particularly pleasurable torture I have experienced."

Yoko sighs.

The door to the cafeteria loudly slams open, as a huffing Enid Sinclair looks around the large room, smiling when she sees the back of her roommate's head, unmistakable amidst a sea of Nevermore students littered around -- quite distinct as if there's a permanent stormcloud attached above her.

"There you are, Wednesday! You forgot your snood to cover your --"

"It was Enid??!" Yoko gasps.

Wednesday smirks ever so lightly as she allows Enid to wrap the black snood around her neck.

[rapha-reads]

Oh, speaking about knitting, I finished the neck warmer for my mother, the knit that was giving me trouble last week!

The ribbings (côtes) are a bit uneven, I found it harder to knit and purl on circular needles, but my mother said she loves it so that's all that matters.

I haven't been able to buy new yarn yet but I still have a full ball of yarn left from my previous project (a hat for my father) so in the meantime I'm practicing ribbing by knitting another neck warmer for my father this time.

And as soon as I have found new yarn I'm making a snood for myself.

[jomiddlemarch]

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds

Walter had died a week ago and Gilbert didn’t want to go home. He sat at his desk and pretended to himself there was another prescription to write or that he’d told John Campbell to call round when he could, there might be something Gilbert could do for his bad hip, something he’d seen in a medical journal, the receipt for a liniment that truly was better than the salve old Mrs. Thelma Morrison stirred up of an evening, more efficacious and less likely to advertise his arrival with the rank scent of ramps crushed in tallow.

It was a lie.

There was no work yet to be done that would keep him, unless there was some queer version of mercy at play that would deliver a fisherman with a hook deep in his palm, calling for finesse and patience, the lamp lit against the dark.

It was quiet, the voices in the harbor hushed or still, and there was nothing more for him to do but admit the truth.

He simply didn’t want to go home.

It was not that the house would be empty, though that would be its own grief he knew. To go home to Ingleside and find no lamp lit against the dusk, no Anne on the sofa with a basket of mending and a book marked with a frayed scrap of ribbon, no Susan banging about in the kitchen, no Rilla dandling Jims on her knee, cheeks pink with a self-righteous spite as she complained about her Junior Reds, so much like her mother had been at the same age. The rooms all too big, the silence too loud.

And agony and yet, a surcease.

The house was full. Anne and her suffering, her grey eyes dark, her hair dressed very simply, beyond any attempt at vanity, drifted from the sitting room to their bedroom, aimless or beyond settling. Susan, cooking up whatever she thought might tempt one of them to take more than a few bites, catching herself about to mention Walter every third sentence, Miss Cornelia coming by with a basket of baked goods Gilbert would bring on his rounds to prevent wasting the food that no one in the house would eat. Rilla with her sisters, Nan and Di home from the college, all three reminding Gilbert of nothing more than a wilted nosegay, Nan and Rilla’s eyes reddened from weeping, Di’s lips bitten, chapped, her bright hair bundled back in an old-fashioned snood she’d have previously mocked in amused derision, the littlest Meredith girl sitting beside them, too thin, too pale. She’d been in love with Walter, that was clear now, and it was no longer charming or worth shaking his head over ruefully.

So many broken hearts. None he could fix.

Jem didn’t know yet, nor Shirley. He and Anne had agreed not to cable or write either of them. There was nothing they could do but grieve for their brother but that grief might be a distraction they could ill afford. The girls hadn’t argued as he’d expected and it was Rilla who’d spoken up, saying Let him be alive a little longer then while Nan crumpled up the letter she’d been writing to Jerry Meredith.

She would have been telling him about Walter. She wouldn’t risk him, nor the rare chance that he’d come across Shirley or Jem and mention Walter’s death. It was impossible to think Jerry would simply run into Jem in the trenches, except that stranger things had happened and Walter, his inquisitive little boy with his mother’s eyes, had been lost to them. His name on a telegram was all they’d get unless some officer in his battalion had the wherewithal to pack up his few remaining personal belongings and send them back to Ingleside on a ship that didn’t get sunk crossing the Atlantic.

Impossible.

Real.

His office was a place of relative respite. Walter had spent little time there, not interested in doctoring, not like Jem or Di, and so he couldn’t haunt it. There were charts to review and journals to leaf through, and no one came who wanted him to be anything else other than Doctor Blythe.

Not Dad. Not Gil dear.

His own parents, thank God, were dead. Marilla too and Mrs. Rachel. 

The clock ticked. He’d have to leave soon enough.

The face that peered in through the door after the briefest, smartest rap, was not one he’d have ever expected.

“I was sent to fetch you, but we can go the long way back,” Mary Vance said. In the failing light of evening, her queer, pale eyes gleamed like the stones he’d liked to skip across Willowmere when he’d idled on the way home from Green Gables. There was a sturdiness to her shoulders and the set of her chin that had become reassuring to a man who now lived in a house of wraiths. She was twenty-three, just a year younger than Jem, a woman grown and not a girl, though she’d no pretense to vanity in her person or tone. Practical and imperturbable, she was one of the few people he could think of he needn’t take care of.

“Mrs. Blythe sent you?” he asked. He tried not to hope Anne had worried enough to speak of it.

“Mrs. Elliott,” Mary shrugged. She knew he would be disappointed, but she wouldn’t lie. “Said you’d soon be needing a doctor yourself if you missed your supper and she doesn’t think highly of Susan’s fish pie in any case.”

“Fish pie,” Gilbert repeated, getting up from his chair and reaching for his overcoat. He ought to be made of sterner stuff, the autumn only just beginning, but he’d been cold at the marrow since he’d learned of his son’s death.

“Mackerel. Had a good catch, down at the cove. I s’pose old Susan thought as long as it was pie, you’d like it,” Mary replied. She smiled, not coaxing but wry, suddenly reminded him of his mother. Neither was much given to effusiveness or cossetting.

“Susan’s not old and it’s not kind to say it,” Gilbert said.

“But it’s not too rude to hear it,” Mary countered. “She was born old, Miss Baker, and if you told her that, she’d be proud of it.”

He laughed then, a startled, almost choked sound he hadn’t known he was capable of, but she’d been so apt and so matter-of-fact…

“You’re quite observant, you’d make a good doctor,” he said.

“Maybe. Not for the likes of me, all that education. And I’m too blunt,” she replied.

“A nurse then,” Gilbert said.

“The War won’t last forever,” she said. “When it’s over, it won’t all be an agony. Sickbeds and wounds to be stitched. There’ll be other lives to live. Work to do. Dreams, for the ones who put stock in such things.”

“Not for everyone,” he said. His boy, gone away, his voice silenced. It hurt worse than little Joy, who’d never asked just one more question, Papa, at bedtime, before Jem had convinced him to call Gil Dad or Father, who’d never made him notice the dappled light of the woods or made him laugh calming Rilla down from her rage at being called Spider.

“No,” Mary said and Gilbert braced himself for the consolation. The balance. Walter died with honor. He’d had his poem read round the world. He’d made his peace with it. 

It happened. People died young.

Ruby Gillis.

Kenneth West.

Captain Jim’s lost Margaret.

Walter Blythe.

“Mrs. Elliott will have my hide if I don’t get you back before she leaves and Marshall gets antsy left to his own devices,” Mary said. She pulled a very large, very clean white handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and handed it to him. “But we can still take the long way back. I’ll manage the driving.”

“Marigold needs a light hand,” Gilbert said. 

“I’ll manage, Doctor Blythe. You needn’t worry about me,” Mary said. She gave him another sharp look. “I’ll take the hankie back before we’re at Ingleside. Mrs. Blythe and old Susan won’t be bothered. And Rilla’s war-baby said a half-dozen new words today, so they’re in decent spirits. It’s just the pie you’ve got to choke down.”

[ofeverykinnetre]

Some random fashion/hairstyle/accessory headcanons for asoiaf. total and complete mashup of historical periods of the middle ages

I think women in the Stormlands are all about those wimples, snoods, cauls, etc cause you know, wind and all that. I think the higher up the chain of nobility a woman gets, the less she covers her hair up - it shows a pretty high level of wealth and privilege to have the time to sit for hours while a servant pins hair up in an elaborate style made to hold in the wind. As well as the privilege noble ladies have of being able to just go inside when the weather is stormy, as opposed to smallfolk who potentially don’t have that option when they’re running farms and shops (and therefore need something to hold their hair with little effort 24/7)

I think the Riverlands are pretty similar to the Stormlands in that they are generally a more practical sort of people, and wealth is displayed more through impractical items to wear and/or make. Fuckoff big and weird headgear, ruffs that take a lot of time and fabric to make, farthingales (even if that is pushing it on the “middle ages” time period) and especially French farthingales on special occasions

Westerlands on the other hand? It’s precious metals, jewelry, gemstones embroidered into clothing, gold braid, velvet, fur, every ostentatious display of wealth you can think of. I also like them wearing farthingales, since they’re right next to the Riverlands and I like them in similar but slightly different styles (for reasons that will go in another post). In general I also like the idea that clothing gets less structured as one gets further south, so the Riverlands and Westerlands are the only ones wearing farthingales

The Reach is a very romantic culture, so I think the women there would want to show off their hair while still staying within the realm of Westerosi modesty. Unmarried women wear their hair “down” but still held back with braids in some way, while married women wear something close to a balzo so they can show their hair while still keeping it “covered”. The Reach is a pretty big region, so as you get closer to the Riverlands you start to see some escoffions, as you get closer to the Stormlands you start to see more elaborate braids and cauls, etc.

So we been knew that Iron Islanders are Vikings but I do actually love Viking clothing for them specifically because of the little brooches/pins/patches they wear to hold the straps on their strap dresses. Vikings historically would have used these to attach and carry various items, and it does feel very Iron Islands for their few bits of decoration to also serve a practical purpose.

[blondie20000]

Massage- Jack Grealish x Reader

Y/N paused the episode she was watching when she heard her boyfriend coming down the stairs. He slumps down in the spot next to her and sighs heavily.

"You alright?" She asked.

"Yeah I'm good." He replied.

Y/N looks at him. His eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw is clenched and his shoulders are hunched together.

"You sure?" She asks with a frown.

She raises her eyebrow at him. Jack again let's out another sigh.

"Just worried that's all."

"Worried?" She laughs. "You?"

"Big game coming up." Jack bites his lip. "I can't screw this up."

"Well you are not going to screw this up." She assured him.

"I need the goals Y/N." He looks at her. "I don't want to lose my spot."

"But you won't." She smiled. "You been brilliant recently you heard the fans cheering your name? Super...Super Jack."

She begun to sing the infamous chant. Jack huffs a small smile but he remained tense.

"It is just always in the back of my mind ya know." He said his voice quiet.

Y/N sighs. Although her boyfriend has been on fire at Manchester City since the World Cup he still thinks he needs to do better he thinks he still needs to prove himself to the manager, his teammates and the fans having all that burden and worry on his shoulders it sometimes does weigh him down.

I wish I can take all the stress away from him.

Then she had an idea.

"Say..." She scooted closer to him. "How about a massage?"

"I haven't got the time to book one of those Y/N."

"No no." She shakes her head. "I'll do it."

Jack blinks.

"You?"

"Uh huh." Her hands rest on his shoulders. "I can make you...relaxed." She grinned.

Jack looked conflicted.

"I don't know."

"Oh come on...we barely spend time together as it is...this is a perfect opportunity." She gives him a devilish smirk. "I don't bite."

Jack gives her a knowing look knowing so well she totally knows how to bite with the amount of love bite marks she leaves him every time they have sex he always has to cover it up with a snood in training. Eventually the footballer gives in.

"Alright fine but go easy on me okay?"

" Of course... " She again smirks.

"...I'll be gentle."

..........

Jack sat on the bed with nothing expect his boxers on. Y/N sat behind him. She squirts some oil on her hands.

"Alright we'll do the shoulders first."

She then begins to rub the oil into his shoulders. Jack let out a groan as his girlfriend digs her nails into his skin. She applies pressure to the back of his neck and slowly feels the tension melting away from Jack's shoulders.

"Is that good?"

" Hmm. " He replied.

"Side to the side...yeah! That's it! Good...Good."

Jack turns his head and allows her to access all the hidden spots. He again groans as she pushes her fingers into those spots. After a while Y/N let's to and asks.

"How does that feel?"

Jack rolls his shoulders and nods.

"Great it feels great."

"Relaxed yet?"

"A little bit."

"So you want more?" He nods with a cheeky grin. "Alright on your stomach then."

Jack did as he was told. Y/N got so more oil and starts to rub it into his back.

"Fuck that feels so good." He muttered under his breath.

Y/N rubs up and down his board, muscular back. She licks her lips as his muscles clench under her touch. She then used her elbows to apply pressure. She digs into his back and she made sure every part of his back is covered in oil. As Jack enjoyed the massage Y/N uses one hand to lower his boxers. With a smirk she grabs his ass cheek and squeezes it.

"Y/N!" He yelps in shock.

She gives him an innocent smile.

"All part of the process honey."

Jack turns his head and frowns.

"I don't remember the City staff grabbing my ass?"

"Yeah but mine is special one of a kind you could say you can't get this deal anywhere else I do the whole package here...I mean the whole package."

She waggled her eyebrows in a suggestive manner. Jack raises his eyebrow an amused expression shows on his face.

"Really?"

"But I can stop if you like..."

"Nah." He shakes his head. "Keep going...I like it."

"So you should this is a five star service baby." Y/N opens the drawers. "Just need to add more pressure." She gets out several items and puts it in front of her. "Okay but first I need you to go up slightly I want that pretty little ass in my face."

Jack obeyed with a "Yes Ma'am."

Then Y/N slides one finger in.

"Fuck!" Jack cursed.

His girlfriend goes in and out. She then slides another two fingers in. She saw Jack's muscles becoming tense underneath her.

"That's it baby! You are all nice and stretched for me!"

Jack goes face down on the pillow and moans.

"Damm! Y/N."

Y/N kept her fingers steady as she continued to fuck her boyfriend. While she did that she looked for the spot she knew would make Jack fall apart. Just then she heard a sharp intake of breath coming from below. She smirks at his reaction.

"Right there?" She pressed her fingers on the spot again.

"Fuck yes! Right there...Right there." Jack gasped.

His face is starting to turn pink and sweat is forming on his brow. His girlfriend marvelled at his reaction. She was enjoying this.

She again presses down on the spot.

"Does that feel good?"

"God yes!"

Jack closes his eyes. His legs started to shake. Y/N runs a hand down his thighs and smiles. Then she removes her fingers and leans forward.

"What's the password?" She whispered in his ear.

Jack tensed up at that question.

"Sunflower." He answered his voice already starting to sound breathless.

Her boyfriend knew what is coming next.

"Good boy." She cooed to him as she opens the lube. Once the dildo was glistening with lube Y/N straps it on herself. "You ready for my cock now baby?"

A weak "Yes!" Followed. Y/N then positions the tip in her boyfriend's entrance.

"I'm going to go slowly if you want me to stop just say the password okay?"

Once she got Jack's approval she starts to slowly insert herself in. When the cock head was inside Jack gripped the bedsheets tight.

"You okay?" She asked with concern. Jack nods. "You want me to continue?" Another nod. So she continued to push in while keeping her hands on his hips.

She rubs his back and his hips as he let out a whimper. He buried his head in the pillow and enjoyed the feeling of his girlfriend inside him.

"Ahh Y/N! That feels so fucking good!"

Y/N's hips are flushed with his ass. It felt so good it felt so hot Y/N can already feel the heat forming at the bottom of belly.

"Please Y/N." He begged her.

Not wanting Jack to wait any longer she slowly lets herself out. When no sound of discomfort or pain came from Jack she then thrusts herself in. Jack gasps and moans with pleasure the noise is like music to her ears.

"That's it baby that's it." She praised him as she continued to thrust him. "You are doing so well!"

He curses her name again followed by a series of pleas, moans and begs that only encouraged her to pick up the pace. God Jack Grealish produced some beautiful fucking sounds.

As she pounded into him she felt his length slapping against her stomach every time she bottomed out. He pushes his ass into her and cries out as the need to release started to consume him.

"Y/N...I got to...I got to... " He grits his teeth as another wave of pleasure hits him. He grips the bedsheets so tight his knuckles started to turn white. "Please Y/N!" He whines her name.

God he sounded so fucking hot.

Y/N leans forward.

"Baby! Cum...Cum for me cum on my cock!"

The last part she said in a stern tone. Jack let out a cry as he let's it all out. Y/N throws her head back and cherishes the sounds that came from his lips. Once Jack came down from his high Y/N removes herself and turns him gently on his side. The bedsheets are stained but she will deal with that later. She then got a wet towel from the bathroom and stars rubbing it on her boyfriend's burning body.

"How do you feel?" She asked him.

Jack lifts his head up to look at her.

"Knackered." He answered.

She chuckled at that.

"And relaxed?" She teased him.

He flops back down on the pillow and lets out a sigh.

"God that was intense." He muttered as he turns his head towards her. "Sorry sweetheart but I think it is for the best if the professionals do it in the future."

She does a playful jab to his arm.

"Hey!" He said pretending to be mad.

He then laughs and pulls her in against his chest. He kisses her head.

"I'm joking...Nah I am actually being serious now I really loved it. It definitely took my mind off things. I am feeling stress free. " He grinned.

"Mission accomplished." She grins back.

Jack leans forward and brushes his lips against hers. She responds and kisses him back. His hand then goes under her shirt towards her bra. Y/N raises her eyebrow at him.

"You sure?"

He replies with a devilish smirk.

His girlfriend quickly removes her clothes and joins him under the covers.

The End