#barclay makes shit

[the-crooked-library]

okay so I gotta say, I don’t believe the whole “vampires cannot make good art” thing. I just don’t buy it. Like, call me biased, but as a writer, I don’t think you could talk the way they do and not be good at least at writing. There’s no way.

(you are a challenge every sunset, Saint Louis)

(I had powers now, and decades of rage to process - and so it was both random and unfortunate the man picked that night to dabble in fuckery) (I mean are you kidding me, that line is MUSIC)

(THE NAME! The name, unuttered in our home for twenty-three years - said over and over, until it was pounding in my head like a hammer!)

As such: what I personally think is actually happening is something far more mundane. Picture this - you've just been turned. Vampirism has enhanced everything about you, so your senses are like 10 times more distracting, you're stronger, faster, you're murdering nightly, you're most likely born out of some sort of trauma, and on top of that you've got years to compound whatever issues you already had - which, surprise surprise, are also somehow more intense now, whodathunk, mainly because your senses/murder/immortality are fucking with them BIG. Seriously, think about it: how much would vampire senses exacerbate symptoms of ADHD or autism? Would the species change, the nocturnal lifestyle, the mind gift contribute to dissociation, psychosis, schizophrenia? Would the killings and the loss of community be a factor in the way your depression might develop - or religious scrupulosity? OCD?

It's not that vampires cannot make good art. It's just that it becomes supremely difficult to do so, especially given that they cannot take human medication/finding a nocturnal therapist would be a bitch even if you're modern/Louiiss mon cher what eez a coping mechanisme y'know. I am convinced with 100000% certainty that, given enough time and dedication a vampire could absolutely make good art again* - though, in all fairness, very few of the ones we know possess the patience. Mind gifts/vampire speed + strength/inherited riches tend to destroy that sort of skill real fast; still, though, it's not a curse. It's symptoms disease.

* It is also possible, just as it is for humans, to develop all sorts of technical skills and still lack the “eye” for art (cough Marius cough) - but in that case, maybe try music?.. start writing? Get into ASMR? you’ve got an eternity to fuck around. Do whatever.

[kosher-martian]

Well consider that water polo was a popular sport in the 2150s at least according to Enterprise. So maybe people in the future just have very different tastes in sport?

Here's hoping for hockey being more popular in the future. Could you imagine holodeck hockey?

One of the funniest things in Star Trek is that baseball has completely vanished from human culture by the 24th century and Sisko is seen as something of a weirdo for being so into it, meanwhile Worf was on his school soccer team and Bashir almost became a tennis pro.

[23victoria]

“Who is she?!”

f1 grid x fem!hamilton!reader smau, charles leclerc x fem!hamilton!reader smau

faceclaim: tyla (i love her shes so gorgeous!!)

authors note: i honestly love doing smaus! any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!! also thank you for all love! i appreciate it! and yes there are some typos i’m too tired to fix them😭 let me know if you want me to start a taglist!!

edit: this has been sitting in my drafts since may 26…i needed to post it

𝚏𝟷 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

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life lately >>>>

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yourbff you so pretty babe 🤭🥰

↳ y/n_ig i love youuu 😘

yoursibling photo credits?!

↳ y/n_ig you ofccc! 🫶🏾✨

username1 who is she and why did the lewis hamilton like her post?!?

stany/n ughhh your skinnn! your glowing girl 🤧✨

↳ y/n_ig thank u bby 🤭

username7 uhhh? lewis what are you doing here?!? 🤔

↳ username5 right?!? like who is she?!?

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supriseeee!!! new single “water” out now!! 🤭✨

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yoursibling ahhhhh I’m so excited!! it’s finally out!!

lewishamilton congrats y/n the song is a banger!!! 🫶🏾

↳ y/n_ig thanks cuzzo 🥰

yourbff one my fav songs off the album

↳ livelaughlovey/n album?!? what?!?

↳ y/n_ig @yourbff shhhhhhh!!!

↳ y/n_ig @livelaughlovey/n hehe soon! 🤭

↳ livelaughlovey/n @y/n_ig OMGGGG!!?!

stany/n bout to blast this through my speakers rn!!

charlesleclerc the song is amazing y/n! you’re so talented!!

↳ y/n_ig aww thank youu!!☺️

↳ lewishamilton @charles_leclerc why are you here?!? 🤨

↳ username8 lol not lewis gagging charles 💀

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holy fuck. i literally have no words. number 1 in three days is insane! i’m speechless honestly, thank you. thank you to everyone who has been here form the beginning and saw something in me. this is for all of us. i love you ❤️

in honor of this huge achievement I’m having a concert this friday in new york, at the barclays center!! tickets are free!! see you there! 😘

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livelaughlovey/n you deserve it!! i’m so proud of how far you’ve come!! 🥹

↳ y/n_ig thank you baby!!

zendaya congrats beautiful! it was so nice meeting you last night!

↳ y/n_ig thank you! we have to hang soon!!!

charles_leclerc congratulations gorgeous, you deserve it! ❤️

↳ y/n_ig thank you charles 🥰

↳ f1gossip101 oh 👀

cardib congrats honey!

↳ y/n_ig thank you 🥰

lewishamilton congrats cuzzo!! couldn’t be anymore prouder!! can’t wait to see what the future has for you 🫶🏾❤️

↳ y/n_ig i love you lew!!! ❤️

yoursibling beyond proud 🥹

↳ y/n_ig i love you 🥹

yourbff no words, the world is yours, i love you!!

↳ y/n_ig you’re going to make me cry, i love you!

username8 as you should!!! water is the song of the year!

username2 omg!! a free concert in ny!! i’m so there!!

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last night, best night of my life✨! you guys came and showed tf out and I’m behind grateful🤧!! the energy was highhh and i had a fucking blast!! thank you for coming and showing love!! I can’t wait to do this again!! love you🥹!!

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charlesleclerc what an amazing show beautiful!! you were amazing!! 🥰

↳ y/n_ig thank youuu!! 🤭

lewishamilton you came and out did yourself!! the energy was ridiculous! 🤩 liked by y/n_ig

sza you were fucking amazing baby 🥹

↳ y/n_ig ahhh thank you!! 🥹

landonorris we have to do this again!! best fucking concert ever!!! 😝 liked by y/n_ig

cardib i had a motherfuckin blast girl 😫 liked by y/n_ig

megantheestallion real hot girl shit ahh 😝 liked by y/n_ig

oscarpiastri the most fun i had in a while!! 😊 liked by y/n_ig

livelaughlovey/n STILL FEELS SURREAL THAT I SAW YOU PERFORM!!! 😭🥰 liked by y/n_ig

georgerussel fuck this was one hell of a show! 👏🏻💕 liked by y/n_ig

username10 the outfits are the fuckk downn

↳ username2 her stylish never misses 🤭

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part 2?!

© 23victoria 2024 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate, or claim my work as your own.

[goldfades]

WNBA CHAMPS ───── LUKA DONCIC (crashout couple)

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.8k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | (request for my baby jo, @wanderlusturous) luka and reader at the wnba finals after the liberty win it for the very first time

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | nothing but fluff!!! luka being a proud husband<3

You don’t hear the buzzer. Not really.

Not over the chaos, the explosion of sound from the packed Barclays Center, not over your own blood rushing in your ears, drowning out everything except the echo of the shot you just made.

A logo three. Your logo three.

Ball arcing high, perfect rotation, the kind of shot that makes the crowd inhale as one—and then the net barely ripples as it drops through. Clean. Filthy. Forever.

It takes a second for reality to catch up, for the scoreboard to register what you already know in your bones: it’s over. Liberty, WNBA Champions.

And then everything breaks.

Your teammates hit you like a tidal wave. Someone tackles you—Sabrina? Betnijah?—and you go down, the weight of a whole franchise crashing over you in screams and tears and flying water bottles. The confetti starts before you can even process it, gold and seafoam raining from the ceiling, getting caught in your lashes, in your braids, in the sweat still cooling on your skin.

Your chest is heaving, heart sprinting, and when you finally claw your way out of the dogpile, searching for the first person you need to see, he’s already there.

Luka.

Front row, arms flung so wide it’s like he’s trying to grab the whole damn moment in his hands. His mouth is open, screaming something you can’t hear but absolutely feel, something loud and ridiculous, probably in Slovenian, probably something that’ll get clipped and memed by tomorrow morning.

He’s been a problem all night. Worn your jersey like he was on the team, talked shit to the refs, nearly got ejected from his courtside seat after he and Breanna Stewart’s wife started chirping in Spanish at each other in the third.

And now, he looks—god—he looks like he just won, too.

Like you just hit that shot for him.

Like you’d do it all over again if it meant seeing him like this.

Your legs move before your mind does. You shove past the cameras, the interviewers, the mob of celebration, sprinting full-speed toward the sideline, Luka already stepping over security like they don’t even exist. He barely has time to open his arms before you’re in them, legs wrapping tight around his waist, his arms locking around you like there’s nowhere else on earth you belong.

"You saw that?" you gasp against his ear, laughing, crying, shaking.

"I saw everything."

Luka is shaking.

Not in the way you’ve seen on the court—bouncing with adrenaline after a game-winner, vibrating with the last remnants of competition. No, this is something else entirely.

His grip on you is tight, almost desperate, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll disappear into the confetti storm, into the chaos of cameras and screaming fans. His chest rises and falls in uneven bursts beneath your hands, like he can’t catch his breath. Like he just ran the length of the court in your shoes.

You pull back just enough to see his face, to take in the way his eyes shine under the bright arena lights. Luka never cries. Not after wins, not after losses. He swears he did once—after the 2018 EuroLeague championship—but you’ve never seen it yourself, only heard the story in passing, a rare glimpse at the part of him that cares so much it hurts.

But right now?

Right now, there’s a dampness at the corners of his eyes, his lips parted in something between awe and disbelief, his whole body still buzzing, like he doesn’t know what to do with all the love, all the pride, all of you.

"You really did it," he breathes, voice thick, uneven.

"You doubted me?" you tease, but your own voice shakes at the edges.

His fingers curl into the fabric of your jersey, gripping at your waist like he needs to hold onto something real, something solid. "Never," he murmurs, shaking his head, pressing his forehead against yours. His skin is warm, damp from the heat of the arena, and for a second—just a second—it’s just the two of you. No cameras, no noise, no legacy-defining moment. Just Luka and you, caught in something bigger than either of you can name.

And then—before you can say anything else, before you can laugh or cry or whisper some smartass comment about how he’s gonna be even more unbearable now that you’ve got a ring—he moves.

Luka lifts you.

Easily, effortlessly, like you don’t weigh a damn thing, arms locked under your thighs as he spins you in the air, laughing through the crack in his voice. The world tilts, gold and green and electric, and you let yourself go with it, throwing your head back, hands tangling in his hair as he carries you in a wide circle, parading you like his trophy, like he just won right alongside you.

"You’re a fucking champion!" he shouts, voice breaking mid-sentence, too full of joy to care. "The best! The best!"

It’s ridiculous. It’s over-the-top.

It’s him.

And when he finally stops spinning, when he sets you down, eyes wild with something uncontainable, you barely have a second to react before he’s cupping your face and kissing you.

It’s not neat. Not soft.

It’s everything.

A crash of lips and teeth and breathless laughter, his hands shaking where they frame your face, your own fingers curled in the fabric of his t-shirt, holding him there, here. The arena is screaming, your teammates calling for you, the trophy waiting, but for this moment—this one, infinite moment—it’s just Luka and you, caught in the aftermath of something neither of you can control.

"You’re gonna be insufferable about this," you gasp when you finally pull away, forehead resting against his.

He grins, dimple deep and cocky. "Oh, you have no idea."

You roll your eyes, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before shoving at his chest. "Alright, alright—I gotta go celebrate with my actual teammates."

Luka groans, dramatic, swiping at his eyes like he wasn’t just on the verge of tears. "Fine. Go. Leave me here. Broken. Forgotten."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, but you’re laughing as you backpedal, fingers lingering in his grip for just a second longer before you let go, let yourself be swallowed back into the mass of bodies waiting for you.

The last thing you see before you disappear into the sea of jerseys and cameras is Luka, standing courtside, watching you with that same stunned, stupidly in-love expression.

Like he already knows—win or lose, on or off the court—you and him?

You’re always playing for the same team.

ESPN | “WNBA HISTORY: NEW YORK LIBERTY CLINCH FIRST TITLE IN THRILLING FINALS WIN—L/N SEALS IT WITH LOGO THREE” Barclays erupts as Liberty star delivers championship moment—husband Luka Dončić loses his mind courtside.

Luka Dončić doesn’t stop smiling.

Not once.

Not when he takes his seat, not when the reporters fire off their first questions about his game last night, not when someone brings up his recent dust-up with the refs—nothing. He’s all grin, his dimples carved deep, eyes still carrying the afterglow of something far more important than basketball.

It doesn’t take long for someone to bite.

“Luka, your wife just made history tonight,” one reporter starts, barely getting the sentence out before Luka practically vibrates in his seat. “What was it like watching her win her first ring?”

His whole face lights up.

“Bro.” He drags a hand down his face, like he still hasn’t fully processed it. “You don’t understand. I am—” He pauses, exhales sharply, shakes his head. “I am the happiest man alive.”

A chuckle ripples through the room. Luka leans forward, elbows on the table, still grinning like he won the damn championship himself.

“I lost my mind. Gone. Brain—poof.” He makes an explosion motion with his hands. “When she hit that shot? I was gone. Finished. I mean, you saw it, right? Best shot of the whole playoffs. Best player. Best moment. Ever.”

A few reporters laugh, already knowing this press conference has completely derailed.

“People are calling you the ultimate trophy husband after your reaction,” another journalist teases.

Luka beams. “Good! Yes! That’s me! Put it on a t-shirt—I’ll wear it to every game.”

The room cracks up. Someone asks if he’d actually wear a “Trophy Husband” shirt, and without missing a beat, Luka goes, “I’ll wear it to her ring ceremony. Front row. Say I won’t.”

The internet is already eating it up. Twitter is flooded with clips of his reaction, memes of him clapping like a proud PTA mom, videos of him looking like he was about to storm the court himself.

And he did almost storm the court.

--

You’re still on the floor, still in the haze of celebration, the weight of the championship sinking in by the second. The trophy’s been passed around, champagne’s already been popped, and your voice is hoarse from screaming—but you’re still looking for him.

It doesn’t take long.

Luka’s back on the court, despite security’s best efforts to keep him at bay. He’s already in your jersey—where the hell did he even get one that fast?—the name on the back stretched tight across his shoulders.

The moment you spot him, he spots you.

“MY WIFE’S A CHAMPION!” he bellows, arms wide, grin even wider.

“Oh my god,” you groan, but you’re already laughing, already jogging toward him as he moves fast in your direction, ducking past staff and reporters.

The second you reach him, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing, spinning you in the air again because once wasn’t enough, because he needs to hold you, needs you right there in his arms.

You cling to him, laughing, hands in his hair as he presses a long, over-the-top kiss to your cheek.

“MVP!” he yells, still holding you. “BEST IN THE WORLD! BETTER THAN ME! BETTER THAN EVERYONE!”

“Luka, put me down,” you giggle, swatting at him.

“No. No, you won, I won, we’re winning everything.”

“You didn’t win anything,” you tease.

“I won you!”

You groan, half-exasperated, half-melting because god, he’s ridiculous. Perfectly, beautifully ridiculous.

By the time he finally sets you down, you barely have a second to adjust before he cups your face again, tilting your chin up so you see every ounce of joy written across his.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, voice dipping lower, steadier. No more yelling, no more antics—just him. Just you. “So, so proud.”

Your chest tightens.

He’s seen you at your lowest, held you through every late-night doubt, every failure, every moment where you didn’t think you’d get here. And now—he’s still here, still holding you, still yours.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His whole face softens.

“Love you more, champ.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can argue, your teammates call for you, dragging you back into the celebrations, into the history you just made.

Luka watches you go, hands still outstretched like he wants to pull you back in.

Like he’ll never get tired of celebrating you.

Like he already knows—he’ll be right here, courtside, for the next one.

[nouvxllev]

"When I saw you

I fell in love, and

you smiled

because you knew

-William Shakespeare"

LOVE.LOVE.LOVE.

I wanted to make a request! I had a similar interaction like this, and when I had read this, I fell inloveeeeee with this qoute sm. Can you do a Wednesday x Reader? In which it's Wednesday who actually falls inlove 😭

amore, amore, amore.

Pairing: Author!Wednesday Addams x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 6.0k (oh what the fuck)

Warnings: told in WEDNESDAYS POV AND ALTERNATE TIMELINES!, the gomezification of wednesday addams prevails, yes they meet at a museum, also kinda 7 husbands of evelyn hugo coded, slight plottwist at the end!

a/n: aaaa ofc ofc!! also i absolutely love the idea where wednesday fell first and harder

masterlist

I believe they cursed me the moment their lips became something worth fighting for.

"If they intend to halt my publishing, then so be it. I have no interest in entertaining that brain-dead company over countless of reasons as to why I shouldn't spare a few weeks for myself who believe I will fall under their will."

"Wednesday, they're the ones who publish your books, you just can't ignore their calls."

"Barclay, has your brain deteriorated to a degree in such a way that you are forgetting it's my presence that upholds that fucking company? Without me, they are nothing. Have you forgotten with how much power I withhold over them, or have your scales reached that hollow of a brain?"

"You can't ignore the leverage they have over you, sure you have the amount of money, if not more, to sue them, but they could literally tip you off and brand you as some selfish author."

"Please do comprehensively explain to me as to why I would be a selfish author?"

"Wednesday Friday fucking Addams, it's because you're half-way across the fucking world at some fucking museum in Italy while you have a manuscript due a fucking week ago!"

"I fail to see my fault."

"Addams, if you don't get your shit together, I swear—"

I had solved countless of murders in my time of Nevermore. I had one thing to do when I finally left, and I was going to succeed.

If you had told me after I willingly left that horrid place you call an educating institution that I would experience the same fate as an author, I would've traced the outer skin of your face with a pocket knife and display it on your family's doorstep.

Barclay, amongst others, remained someone I held close. She could be infuriating, but no one would ever be much deserving of a terrible, terrible position than be under my control as my manager when I pursued writing.

But no one tells you how people could easily forget you in a matter of seconds if you don't make a name for yourself when you've put yourself out there, even if it's something far, far from your own.

I was only fortunate enough people enjoyed what I publish.

I couldn't care less if they didn't, that's why I found it hard to give two shits about what that damned company thought of my revised schedule. But I needed to make a living. To make something out of myself.

If I had continued my actions— in which I have full control over with—I could lose everything.

I could've build it up from scratch if it happened, but Lucifer knows how long would a simple idea for a plot that could get into the lack of attention span of the population could take.

I could lose the name I print on paper.

I could lose my name.

And then I realized I haven't.

There was something that I was destined to fall under. It was there with my eyes taped to a painting, not knowing I became one for another.

I hung up. The mere thought of having a multistep plan to eventually murder my manager was between God and me. That woman had me teetering on the edge of becoming a one-hit serial killer overnight.

My head tilted over a large painting towering amidst the others down the line. My hands remained tucked deep within the pockets of a trench coat far too oversized for me.

I couldn't take much time of squinting, staring as if it had garnered my interest not after a dreaded phone call that I convinced myself truly took my energy and managed to inject anesthesia inside my veins.

A light sway became evident in my steps, as if I was sulking in my own woe of what I should and could've done to prevent myself fucking it up on a company that I could soon own if not me being under the age of what is required to own a firm without having to ring up my own godforsaken of a family.

I could almost take another step if I wasn't met with another person.

Countless of papers flew across the hard-tiled floor. It was over before I knew what had happened. I found myself standing there, eyes glued to the person I collided with, my eyebrows crossed and my mouth hung open like a fool.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, fuck." They grit under their breath, like they were berating themselves while they picked up the rest of what had fell.

I stood there, not knowing what to do or what not to do but stare at them and wait for them to pull themselves up.

And so that's what I did.

I wish I hadn't.

Because now it was the time I was unable to speak. Unable to use the words I've been writing my novels with, the words that I should've spoken in the seconds they had landed in front of me. For the first time, my words had failed me.

A question rang in my head, Why do I now feel as if I do not belong inside of my own body? Why does my life feel complete now that they were here?

When Y/n fixed herself, she looked at me and smiled. I knew I looked like an idiot staring at them, yet I never went out of my way to barely fix myself.

Why were they smiling?

"Why are you smiling?" I asked under my breath, like I was taken breathless. I hadn't mean to say it out loud, but my cold and otherwise damned heart seemed to be alive, like I was suffocating in my own rate. A fool in front of them I must've been.

They looked at their paper, then they looked at me.

They smiled yet again. Another question flicked across my head, what had happened to me to act as if I would go through hell and back for this person?

They smiled at me as if my presence gave them a reason to. And they loved me in every one of it.  

"Sorry—" they apologized, noticing how their thumb kept grazing the surface of their sketch, almost as if they were nervous. "You look prettier than... whatever I drew."

They stole one more look of me.

"Terrifyingly bewitching."

It's horrifying knowing I couldn't explain what I felt that day. What I know is—I felt everything.

I've endured endless remarks on my appearance ranging from a number of ratings from those nonsensical people on the internet to every synonym people have thrown my way only to fail to evoke even a flicker of emotion.

Though it seems egotistical, I knew they held one intention: they wanted to impress me. They wanted me to know they were different amongst others who have approached me. They wanted to entice me, as if I could be owned.

Were it not for the arsenal and threats I carried, there would be much more.

Y/n was different. They never had any intentions of being with me, no desire to impress or claim me as theirs. They simply wanted me to know I was. That it was true. I just had never heard it from someone who could mutter two words that felt perfect.

And it's much more terrifying knowing I unexpectedly fell first, even if I deny myself.

I could tell you about the way y/n smiled, how it seemed to threaten the sun, warning it not to shine lest it risk embarrassment in contrast of hers. I could tell you the way their eyes followed their smile, how their life was encapsulated in their drawings, mirroring what they felt.

Yet, when it comes to explaining how I fell for them, words escape me. Even I, a tortured author, struggle to describe.

How must I convey the sensation of my heart pounding in my ears as if it was trying to break me? The ache in my stomach, churning every chance it got, every fiber of my being dreadfully surrendering to them.

But one is for certain: meeting them was like coming home.

My home.

But I couldn't bring myself to realize that—It was antagonizing for me. Humiliating and mortifying knowing one person could make me become a total fool, become someone I've never thought I'd be.

I've spent my whole life after hiding what I felt for them, lest I risk experiencing what I truly loathe: love.

I despised them ever since I met them, loathed them, hated them. But for what for? I ask myself countless of times, I have never gotten an answer.

When they left, I left. Thinking it would be fate that had accidentally brought two people together who held no meaning for eachothers life, that it was a mistake, and I could've been wrong with how I'm feeling.

And when I came back, they were there.

And when I approached them, it felt right.

It was a week after the incident, but no matter how I tried, I still remember how their smile felt around me. Suffering, irritating, lovely. Like I wanted to relieve it, no matter how much time had passed.

Never once did I get their name in the span of meeting them, it was useless to know anyway.

Yet, I find myself returning to the museum every chance I get for God knows what, acting as if I had unfinished business staring at paintings while the staff rambled beside me. They were better off tattooing their explanation in my skull.

I had other places to attend to, other tasks I should've been doing rather than constantly visiting museum in the afternoon as if I have duties and low-paid labor for employment.

I should've been at my apartment days ago, exhausting myself on a half-assed manuscript I would have recurring thoughts of annihilating along with severing Bianca's hands through the phone.

What terrified me is why I was back.

Standing in front of them. My hands tucked deep inside the pockets of another trench coat, looking down on them sitting on one of the blocks of granite surrounding a oddly placed tree in the middle of the hall, drawing whatever there is to draw.

"Hello." I greeted them. They almost looked startled, surprised that I was even talking to them, like I was some vengeful ghost who returned to seek revenge. Though they weren't far off.

They looked up, immediately flipping over their clipboard as they locked eyes with me.

"Oh—" They cleared their throat, "Hi. Hey, hello." They smiled, albeit awkward. But that feeling of dread, or whatever, came back. Stronger than ever, I feared. I almost had half the mind of punching them in the gut and questioning them why they had this effect on me.

"Didn't know you come here often." A chuckle followed their question, or maybe it was a statement, placing their elbows on their lap while they gazed right at me.

I scoffed, murmuring against gritted teeth why did I even approach them in the first place. "And I didn't know you draw me that often."

I look down on the piece of paper, their deliberate and aggressive brush strokes having an effect on the paper, leaving marks upon marks. It was clear that I've been their subject for days on end. Even if I were to absent, I'd still be able to be the pinnacle of their sketches.

It was funny back then, humorous in my mind on how quick they snatched the piece of paper and tried to explain with little to no comprehension that went across their mind.

"Oh, God, no, no! I just—Okay, well, maybe I've been drawing you ever since I saw you, it's creepy now that I mention it... but it's just—it's dumb of me to not draw you, you know?" They were flustered, their mouth opening and closing only for me to receive words that were out of the dictionary.

They sighed, my lips twitched.

"I'd like to ask," My voice trailed off, grimacing even at the thought of having to initiate a conversation with more or less than five words, "What's... your name?"

"Y/N," They nodded, "L/N. Y/N/L/N." They reached out for a handshake only to immediately retract after a brief awkward seconds of staring. Their name sounded familiar.

"Why are you here?"

"Do I need to reason to?"

"I suppose so, no. But I am curious." Even I don't know why I'm still back here.

Y/n sighed, like I was the one getting on their nerves while it was me who battling against whatever fucked-up demon spawned in my stomach that caused me to feel, things.

"Nothing."

I frowned. "You came here because of.... Nothing?"

"Mhm."

"You are drawing strangers you know nothing about because of nothing?"

"Thought I made myself clear on that first word."

"You've made yourself look foolish than any average person."

"Well, you never told me your name. I think that's foolish enough over my case."

It was my turn to sigh.

"Addams." I reluctantly said to them, "Wednesday, Addams."

Then Y/n looked up at me as if I was some sort of otherworldly deity going back down to earth to finish whatever I started. "Wednesday Addams. I think I've heard that name before."

"No. No, you haven't."

If it wasn't horribly obvious, the sole purpose of my visit to Italy was to neglect everything I left behind in New York—especially deadlines— and hoped my eyes would finally work some sense that would let me start anew.

It was shameful of me, passion that dwindled into something less. If I had the chance, I would've tortured myself for even considering abandoning all of my life's work.

Though, I had my reasons. Even if I had threatened my target population and my audience, it still wouldn't be enough.

In short, I had lost motivation to pursue another book.

I felt as if there was something missing, that I couldn't even dare to even blow the collecting dust in the rims of my typewriter.

I begged for my brain to work, to even produce the slightest idea or word that could have some meaning to it. I was ready to write anything that came to mind, even if it was mediocre.

But, instead, my heart responded.

When I met Y/n, I started writing, and we started talking.

Words flowed through, and my time was wasted on Y/n.

My time was wasted, and they were wasted with their significant other.

I always thought I would suffer the thought of having to live an eternal life with none other than myself, that it was inevitable I was going to perish alone in my own woe.

It remained the same. Now, it's just having to live with the fact that my only greatest love had another.

I felt as if I ate a forbidden fruit once I heard they had someone that loved them as much as I denied myself of the same kind, like I plagued myself with hundreds of years of worry and attachment to someone who had eyes on another, a special muse they had.

Only that I would crumble immediately, tempted to take the fruit in my hands, forever stain my lips of something immoral so that I could forever crawl and weep over them.

In my time in Italy, I thought i'd be avoiding acquaintances that would be much more of a burden to me rather than someone useful. Yet there I was, watching Y/n saunter into my life like the revelation they were.

It's safe to say that Y/n turned out to be anything but a burden. They became someone I looked forward to seeing every day, though I hadn't realized they were motivation until then.

"Wends!"

Their awfully cheerful voice pierced through the air of the restaurant, almost granting the attention from other people as if they shared the same horrendous and dreadful nickname as me.

As much as I fantasized about walking out of the restaurant with y/n's half-broken jaw, I couldn't deny whatever was swirling in my head.

Ever since they knew of that wretched nickname unfortunately given to me by none other by that infectious and the ever infuriating ball of sunshine, Enid Sinclair, they've been calling me it as if I don't have a birth name.

It was a month ever since I've known Y/n, and it was a month of them being a constant presence in my life. They shared breakfast with me, lunches, and sometimes dinners that I somehow always and reluctantly accepted.

They became my routine, and it was a fact I'd sooner die with than confess to anyone.

Y/n slowly approached my table that was filled to the brim with countless of books and my oddly placed typewriter, putting their own stuff down on the seat beside them. "You're here early. You ordered something yet?"

It was 12PM. We agreed on 1, and I came at 10.

I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the typewriter. "You, of all people, should know by now that I would much rather sooner paint myself neon than touch anything on this menu."

I hear y/n setting their elbows on the table, resting their face between their hands. "Aw, c'mon Wends, it wouldn't kill you.

"Cyanide won't, but this will." I stopped writing to take one look at them, obviously and oddly, my gaze never and will never work on them. "Take my advice if you're eager to leave this restaurant with a mouth able to eat and speak."

"Ever the happiest person, Wends." They chuckled, sliding a somehow too bright and colorful menu towards them, "I'll order for you."

I stopped writing all together, "Y/n."

"Wednesday." They raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. It was over before I was even playing the game. Resistance over their lips felt futile anyway.

"Fine." I sighed, shutting my eyes closed just so that for once I can't have my stomach doing fucking acrobatics at the sight of them. "I will... allow it."

The ever-growing smile that crept up to their face was priceless, I couldn't bring myself to pry my eyes away. Murmuring something along the lines that I was too easy to lure in.

Once a waiter passed our table, Y/n ordered something along the lines of whatever the fuck 'Due Cream Soda Alla Vaniglia e Lampone con Glitter Commestibili' was. I was certain I was going to leave the restaurant with a non-working heart and a stomach turning inside and out.

It took no longer than a minute for Y/n to get a hold one of the numerous books piled infront of me. "Are you studying for something?" They asked, opening it only to close it once they noticed how outdated some of the languages are.

I let a small chuckle pass my lips. "What drives you to such a hypothesis."

They gestured to the books and my typewriter, "By how you're literally surrounded by books and you're on a fucking typewriter instead of a laptop." They pointed out, murmuring another, "Also, who the hell says hypothesis."

"People with functioning frontal lobes." I quipped, letting my fingers write on instinct across the typewriter keys as I listened to Y/n's ramblings. "I'm... writing."

"You're an author?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"Are you a painter? An artist?"

"Well... I—no?"

"Then we both don't know what we're doing."

Y/n fell silent moments after, I couldn't help but miss the sound of their voice. Admitting the mere thought aloud seemed absurd, let alone thinking it in the first place. I would've bashed my head on top of my typewriter if not for my resistance.

"How long will you be staying in Italy?" they eventually asked.

"Two more weeks," I replied. "My flight is already scheduled, I'll be leaving then on."

"Oh."

I wasn't expecting an answer anything other than a hint of happiness that I was eventually leaving their life.

"You are?" They repeated, as if they couldn't believe such a statement even escaped my lips, clear disappointment flickering across their face. "That's not... long."

"I am certainly not saying here indefinitely now that I have something to continue when I've arrived at my destination." I cleared out, doing my very best to escape the impending guilt washing over me.

"I'll miss you, Wednesday."

Their words were sincere. Lovely. It had stopped me from writing all together.

Guilt wasn't a feeling I was familiar with at the time. I rarely come across such a feeble emotion. Now it felt like I've committed something immoral. There were times that I lie for my own convenience, and nothing more than my own reason.

Now it felt like I should've lied for them.

I will forever miss you.

I wrote. I never showed them.

One week had passed and I rarely ever got to see Y/n after. Our encounters became increasingly scarce, and their voice plagued me from days on end.

I clung to the faithless hope I had that they would text me, to reach out, to even show me they're alive and well.

I returned to the museum for every day they were absent in my life, searching for any sign of their presence, but each day ended in disappointment.

Of course, fate is indifferent to my yearning, refusing to grant someone I so desperately sought.

Regret gnawed at me as the days turned into a week, and the week turned into the day before my flight.

"Addams. I've heard from others that you've been writing."

"Who others?"

"I'll spare a name to spare New York a corpse found in their sewage pipes by the time you've, hopefully I assume, returned and not jump off the plane."

"Even if I went off the grid, your nagging would've been in spirit."

"Don't flatter me."

"Don't kill yourself without showing me a video tape in full resolution for me to get through rough weeks. Or maybe take a shotgun and shoot yourself in your garage and let me have the keys to your house."

"Addams."

I sigh. "Yes, the rumors—though I would want that vampires head on a stake—are true. I've been writing."

"What happened to you there? You met someone?"

"How'd you know—No. No, I—I haven't. What makes you come to such a foolish conclusion?"

"Oh my God, someone actually managed Wednesday—I'd rather kill myself before loving anyone—Addams to fall terribly in love with them. Who's the unfortunate soul?"

"I would not be naming them because they do not exist."

"You just stuttered, Wednesday. The only thing making you stumble your words is when you're overdosing on whatever poison you're having for breakfast."

"They're no one."

"How are you such a bad liar when you have countless of bodies hidden across the globe?"

I sigh again, this time, it was out of annoyance. "I'll be hanging up. Goodbye, Barclay. If ever you are considering to kill yourself, call me. I'll be at my most happiest to watch."

"Wait, no, Wednesday! I need progress on your—"

I hung up. It was pointless to answer her calls when I was a mere few step away from boarding a plane. She always had a way of getting under my skin, even from across the damn globe.

But there was one name that would always surface in my thoughts: Y/n.

The mere thought of their name will forever remind me of how my heart wasn't programmed to love.

I reached for my phone, fingers tracing over the cold screen. My mind was tired, blank. The only thing I could ever do is stare at their contact and wish I could've done something better.

I typed out a hesitant message, my thumb hovering over the send button as if it was something that could end my world. Only two thoughts ran to my mind: Would they reply, or would my message be nothing to them?

I almost hit send before I heard footsteps approaching me.

"Y/n?"

I whispered their name, the love I carried for them being surrendered like I'd crawl for them once I reached purgatory.

"What are you doing here?" My eyebrows furrowed. How could they leave me, only to return as I was about to depart? "Why are you here, you disappeared, avoided me, why—"

"He proposed to me."

Oh.

I always thought a near-death experience with a loved one would be the deepest I could feel.

I realized I was wrong.

Now my eyes ached to the sting. Like I was weeping for someone that perished in my heart, I grieve for a living soul that was me. It was pathetic.

I expected them to be overjoyed, over the moon as they would express themselves from time to time.

But when I met their eyes, all I saw were tears streaming down their face.

Oh, how I wished to wipe their worries away.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know if I love him."

"Nonsense... You told me you loved him—"

"Well, maybe I haven't been saying anything true to you!"

"Look, I don't know what I'm doing—I don't know what the hell are we doing. I'm living in some apartment with some guy I don't even know I even love, I'm currently standing here like an idiot to a girl who's just about to leave my life, and you're—"

"You're everything."

It was that moment I realized I was lost in a haze of admiration and love for Y/n.

That I was far too deep in their life that they became mine. I never knew I needed them as much when I told them to leave with me and break up with their significant other.

I never knew I needed their lips onto mine until the moment I pulled them close to me.

Now I ache of them.

"Do you regret it, mother? Being such a fool for someone, you became what you hated most. But you endured it all for them."

Wednesday Addams, seating across the bed from her daughter, Blair Addams. She looked just like you, she'd always wonder.

Wednesday sighed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Blair's. "Do you know the phrase, 'Come ti vidi M’innamorai, E tu sorridi Perchè lo sai?'" she asked softly.

"You know I've never indulged myself in whatever you're reading." She shook her head with a smile. She looked even more like you.

She let her fingers trace patterns on her hand, her gaze wandering else where. "Well, it translates to 'When I first met you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew," she explained.

"And do you believe in that, mother?"

Wednesday could almost smile. Her daughter was always the curious one, yet she always managed to be privy of her life from them. "I always believed Y/N knew the moment we first laid eyes on each other, I fell in love with them."

"So, yes, my raven." She nodded, "I do."

"I never knew Y/n would make me their title, their theme, their muse," Wednesday pondered, "I always wondered why i fell for them."

"Falling is an accident, gullible, like with people who fail to do basic things. But I am one of those people if not more if I fell for their on accident and continued to do so."

She sat beside Blair, her legs crossed beside her. "I've never told you at the time, but Y/n was a painter. And they wanted nothing more but than to forget about their past. They have never told me as to why, but I believe them.""

"I worried that my love was violence. It was pain, it was suffering. But y/n took care of themselves, they took care of me. There is no one in the world who had loved me more than them, I fear that it would break them, that I am deemed no longer someone who is a part of their story."

"Yet here we are."

Wednesday couldn't see the smile creeping from her daughters lips. But she knew it was there, just like how you looked like before. She will always and forever take pride in it.

She always thought her greatest love could be something of a passion, a talent, a hobby perhaps.

But no one told her it could be a person.

Blair stretched and turned on a light beside her bed, opening a drawer and taking out two of Wednesday's books. "Must they be the reason your books has been off to your prior ones, mother? You've written all your life of gore and mystery. Now it's romance."

"Well, I—"

"Oh, I'm definitely the reason why your mother has been subtly—not-so-subtly, switching to the romance genre."

You peered through the door, your body wrapped up in a cozy boritto style and everything with a train draping it's way to your back like some met-gala dress.

"Oh, mon chéri," Wednesday's face lit up at the sight of you, immediately standing up and pulled you close, her arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

Her lips met yours in soft kisses, leaving the taste of faint vanilla chapstick lingering on your lips. "Why are you up so late?"

"Well," You grinned against her lips, "I felt our bed getting cold and to my surprise my wife isn't nowhere near me. You know how I can't sleep without you." She pulled away, you whined at the lost of contact, but you couldn't smile more brightly as she led you towards your daughter. "G'evening, Blair."

"Evening, Y/n." She greeted you before you kissed her on the forehead.

You leaned against Wednesday's shoulder, whispering softly, "You're telling her our story again?"

Wednesday would've thought her small chuckle went unnoticed, but you definitely heard it. The stupid smile on your face told everything.

Her hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She loves it."

"You love it, mother. Probably more than me." Blair retorted back, evident that she was holding back a laugh.

"I do not! When did I ever—"

"Oh, honey, you know love turns your mother into a girl version of your abuelo.

"Do not ever refer to me as my love drunk father or I will subject you to sleeping on the couch." Wednesday rolled her eyes, pinching the back of your palm. "And please do not shame my work of referring to it as such. I've worked hard day and night yet you proceed call it by such an exasperate—"

You turned your head and pressed a kiss on her cheek, the same spot where her freckles resided, causing her to pause mid-sentence. After atleast ten years of being with her, it always made you so giddy.

"Not even in marriage am I spared by your passive aggressive comments," you teased, your lips curling into a smile as you leaned in closer to her.

You hear your daughter sigh after a brief second, "Addams."

Wednesday almost looked shocked, "My Raven, do not call us by our last—"

"Please exit my room. I'll be going to sleep."

And then, the both of them were shoved off before they could even hug their daughter and kiss her goodnight like they always did.

"I... We were rejected, Y/n." Wednesday exclaimed, like she just got struck with the most heartbreaking news. "She used to love our stories together when she was an infant."

You'd think Wednesday was the non-chalant mom who's strict on her child. But, to your surprise, she was the opposite.

She loved Blair just as much she loved you. Hell, you even considered just maybe, maybe not, disowning your daughter because she gets Wednesday's attention more than you do.

You shrugged, taking her hand and leading her to your upstairs bedroom. "It gets stale once in a whileeeOW!" You winced as Wednesday pinched the back of your palm, again. It was starting to become her love language at this point.

"I'm just kidding!" You reassured her, intertwining your fingers with hers as you walked up the stairs together, pulling the door open for your wife. "She's just in her rebellious teen phase, let it go."

Wednesday rolled her eyes, "Too cliche."

"You used to have one too," you scoffed, settling onto your side of the bed and watching as she laid down on hers.

It was a routine you found yourself often doing, taking in the sight of your beloved as if your life with Wednesday was all a dream. You pinch yourself like almost thrice a day just to really make sure.

"Since when?" Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement, quietly shuffling towards you.

You sat up for a moment to undo her braids. You always liked playing with her hair, and that one time she asked of you to undo hers, it became a routine. "Since the beginning of time. And somehow, you never grew out of it."

"You didn't even meet me in my teenage years. I am far from rebellious."

"Yes, baby, but not too far from a death penalty." You chuckled, reaching out to gentle stroke her hair, leaning in to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Oh, you flatter me," she replied, a smirk across her lips, but the room was too dim to even notice it.

By now, if you were any ordinary person, Wednesday would've made you disappear entirely. But, the thing is, Wednesday always seemed to look at you as if her life never really started until she found you.

Silence managed to take over the atmosphere, you laid back on the comfortable mattress, feeling Wednesday's head nestled on your arms that were tucked under her hair.

You could almost fall asleep in pure bliss knowing that you've met and loved the girl of your dreams if not for her calling out for you.

"Amore." She whispered.

"Amore?" She whispered again, her voice softer than ever before.

You blinked, momentarily. You swore you just heard an angel. "Yes, amore?"

"Can I... Can you—"

You smiled, almost too knowingly. You knew Wednesday, for someone who's such a romantic soul, she's not too expressive on simple terms like these. "Do you want to be the little spoon?"

She grimaced, you could even hear her grunts of disapproval. "I would highly refrain from calling it that before I jump out of bed and skin you from limb to limb. But... yes, I would like to."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at her response, suppressing a grin to avoid from literally being murdered as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close.

Ten years before, if someone had told you that you're going to be doing this to girl you've met at a museum while trying to escape your past, let alone be happily married to her, you would've told them "How the fuck do you know that and please stay away, I have... a boyfriend. I guess."

But now, it seemed so believable. Wednesday was always so relaxed in your arms, your warmth and hers bringing a sort of comfort for the both of you.

You nuzzled your head against the back of her neck, gently moving strands of her hair aside as you pressed soft kisses against her skin, hoping to kick away her tension from the day.

"Stop pouting, Wends," you murmured softly into her skin as you closed your eyes in pure relief.

You hear her scoff, "I am not doing such a humiliating act."

"Oh but you so are." Your grin widening as you pressed another gentle kiss against her nape, "I can hear it from here."

Wednesday let out a sigh, of annoyance? Maybe. But was it tinged with pure adoration and love? Much so. "You don't hear pouts, Y/n."

"When it comes to you, I do and I can."

Silence washed over. This time, you're worried you've teased her that much, she actually got annoyed with you.

"You're awfully quiet. By this time, you're probably threatening to kill me."

"I'm... Sorry." Wednesday whispered, it has an undying tone of tenderness that you don't often see it being expressed through words from her. Slowly, she shifted her body to face yours.

One thing is for certain: She was still so terrifyingly bewitching if not more. She looked pretty in every way possible, it's hard to even believe, it left you in awe.

You feel her gaze darting on your eyes and then drifting down to your lips, hesitating even. It was ridiculous, in the most adorable way possible there is for an Addams like her.

"May I kiss you?"

"You know you're always welcome. It's pointless to ask."

She was the first to reach out, her hand finding it's way to the curve of your cheek, her touch gentle than ever as she traced the line of your jaw as if she was memorizing every feature of yours.

You cupped her face in reciprocation, leaning in closer to where your lips were just hovering inches away from hers. Then, you closed the space between the both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes meeting hers with a soft smile. It was impossible to think that this woman held your heart in her hands like it was nothing.

"Have I ever told you that you're pretty?" you whispered, letting your hands fall to her waist and pulled her close.

"Ever since you've met me."

“You know, I’m surprised you even remember our first meeting.”

“Oh, how could I ever forget my lover?”

You laughed, a symphony that always gets Wednesday to have a slight tug in her lips. “Stop being so romantic. You are a grown woman with a daughter.”

You continued to stare into her eyes as you drape the rest of the blanket for the both for you. "It's hard to think you're the first one to fall in love and not me."

"It's hard to think of anything when you're here with me, te amo." Wednesday replied, her gaze softening almost immediately.

You sighed. "You know I love you, right?"

Wednesday blinked. "I always will."

You smiled.

And Wednesday smiled back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: this was longer than i thought. i yap too much in stories i fear

[nalyra-dreaming]

I understand what Rolin was doing from a logical, storytelling standpoint because Louis was under the impression that Lestat was the Big Bad who traveled across an ocean to kill their daughter the whole time so obviously the story he told would reflect that, and ya know ARMAND. Maybe they should have spend time after the “Lestat saved you, Armand directed the play” revelation to unpack what that really means because a good chunk of the fanbase does not get that everything we’ve been shown so far is skewed because of this. Instead, the revelation was the SHOCKING TWIST near the end of the finale and the ramifications were left to viewers to figure out for themselves. As we’ve seen, people need things spelled out for them.

Oh I UNDERSTAND the reasoning and intended arcs behind it as well.

But the reveals were far too... mild to land properly, not after two years of "big bad white abuser Lestat".

And, I mean, I get that AMC made them split the season (and in ONE season it would not have been the same issue!), and that they had to quickly rewrite, but Rolin is also on record saying how AMC made him soften Lestat already, because he wrote him as even more of an asshole, and like, did no-one stop to think as to how that would go over with the racial recasts they were so proud of???

Like, what did they think would happen to and with the audience, if you recast especially Louis and Armand color-consciously... and still have to keep the trackback and lies, and mind-control?! Did no-one stop to think how that would look?!??! Did no-one stop to think that in today's day and time, with people a lot more aware and able to recognize abuse, and call it out, too, that making Lestat this kind of abuser would stick?! And especially with a season break on that note and by using that as justification for the murder?!

THAT is what it ultimately boils down to, this not-thinking about the arcs they are destroying by plucking events and reassigning character traits to other characters, as well as just... doing shit for shock value and then being surprised(!) when people do not take a white guy beating his black partner to a pulp and then dragging him like on a meat-hook and then dropping him from the sky lightly.

Who'd have thought!!11!11!!

//sarcasm off

No, but seriously, it all boils down to this, and that this was left festering. And was weakly revealed.

I had quite the different expectations of season 2 back then, I thought we would get the IWTV version of "Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf", and that Daniel would tear the narrative to shreds - but that did not happen.

Oh, he made Louis realize the truth, yes, but not by making it clear for the (more casual) audience.

The salesman reveal proving Armand's memory-editing, Sam Barclay in two places proving further memory-editing, and the trial script proving the big lie and even more editing.

Oh and the fight revisit - haha, it was LOUIS who beat LESTAT up!!!!! And he let it happen!!! Isn't that funny?!!

Sorry, that was sarcasm again.

We have Sam on record saying he sneaked lines in where he knew they could not cut them(!), saying he argued against the fight, and for trigger warnings(!), saying he made sure to bring in elements in the trial to make clear Lestat was forced to be there. And not well.

He had to do that.

Because the show is apparently happy to let people think Lestat hated Claudia, or wanted "revenge" at the trial. Like, you gotta be kidding me.

And there is a part of me that cannot blame everyone being offended by the shift now, because the show made its bed there, and deliberately, too.

Nonetheless, this shift was always set to come, and that, too - was something that should have been clear from the beginning.

But the way they set up the seasons had people believe something else. And now we have the mess.

Again, I WILL enjoy this show, it is what it is now. This is it. This is what we're getting. I waited 30 years for this. I will enjoy it. But the mess this fandom is in is not something that came out of nowhere.

[diorsluv]

feather , part 35

“ i’m up, where i’m at ”

series m. list previous chapter

slightly (ish) suggestive again, nothing extremely explicit (kind of)

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, trevorzegras, rutgermcgroarty, and 300,190 others

yourusername i love my boyfriend and his silly little friends

tagged: lhughes_06, markestapa, edwards.73, mackie.samo, dylanduke25, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, trevorzegras, adamfantilli, rutgermcgroarty

view all comments

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→ yourusername stop this rn

→ adamfantilli mom and dad said they’re disowning you

→ luca.fantilli GOSH DIDDLY DARN IT 😔

→ markestapa what the fuck

username10 NO RESTRICTED COMMENTS THE DAY HAS FINALLY COME

edwards.73 i heard your back break when we all piled on top of you

→ yourusername i’m actually in the hospital rn because of your ass

→ edwards.73 aw my ass is so fat you’re in the hospital!! 😘

→ yourusername ha ha ha. 😒

→ lhughes_06 bro stop trying to seduce my girlfriend

→ edwards.73 I’M NOT THOUGH??!!

→ lhughes_06 THEN LEAVE HER ALONE

username62 tell me why that first pic is so fucking obx coded

→ username27 OH MY GOD IT IS

→ username15 YOU’RE SO RIGHT??

dylanduke25 i’m so hot

→ yourusername yes you are duker 🫶🫶

→ lhughes_06 oh ☹️

→ dylanduke25 you’re so whiny luke YOU’RE LITERALLY DATING HER

colecaufield the leafs hoodie..

→ yourusername i won’t name drop but i think you can tell who it is 😰

→ rutgermcgroarty 🫢

→ markestapa 😱

→ lhughes_06 😟

→ trevorzegras 😥

→ adamfantilli 😧

→ colecaufield WHICH ONE OF YOU WAS IT

→ yourusername he refuses to admit who he is

jackhughes i think my heels touched the back of my head

→ yourusername that’s an outer banks quote if i’ve ever seen one 🫡

→ lhughes_06 jj maybank dupe

→ jackhughes you wish you were a jj maybank dupe lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 you’re not even blond 🙄

username17 how does it feel to LIVE MY DREAM luke 😔

→ yourusername i’m willing to split my love between you and luke 🫶

markestapa posting me shirtless while dating my best friend?? scandalous 😱

→ yourusername stop trying to instigate random shit mark

username98 too cute 💗

elblue6 you two never change 💖💖

→ yourusername ily mama hughes 🥰

→ lhughes_06 mom i lost a sock

_alexturcotte crazy how i’m not in ANY of the pictures 😊😊😊

→ yourusername all you boys are so needy

lhughes_06

liked by yourusername, jamie.drysdale, jackhughes, and 310,102 others

lhughes_06 my favorite dates with my girl 💘

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername stop it you’re making me blush 🤬

→ lhughes_06 that was the point baby

msamoskevich this is so unaesthetic

→ lhughes_06 like you could do better???

→ msamoskevich i could actually

→ yourusername THAT’S WHAT I KEEP TELLING HIM

→ msamoskevich babe you gotta fix your man

→ yourusername i’ll make him my little aesthetic boy don’t you worry

→ lhughes_06 should i be scared

→ msamoskevich be terrified 😍

username86 they’re actually so in love that it physically pains me

username20 horrible taste in froyo but it’s okay they’re cute together

markestapa pottery..???

→ lhughes_06 shut up it makes her happy

→ yourusername shut up it makes me happy

→ markestapa i’m shutting up because it makes you happy 🙄

→ lhughes_06 yay

→ yourusername yay

edwards.73 GO KARTS

→ lhughes_06 ik u wanna be us so bad

→ edwards.73 I DO

→ yourusername fanboy type shit

_quinnhughes you guys are always teaming up against all of us

→ lhughes_06 and???

→ yourusername you got a problem with it??

→ _quinnhughes yes i do actually

→ lhughes_06 suck it up

→ yourusername walk it off

username4 i need someone to take me on a date like luke does with our lil drizz

username31 those toppings…

trevorzegras 🤮

→ lhughes_06 😑

→ yourusername ☹️

→ jackhughes 🤮

→ _quinnhughes 🤮

→ rutgermcgroarty 🤮

→ markestapa 🤮

→ _alexturcotte 🤮

→ jamie.drysdale 🤮

→ luca.fantilli 🤮

→ mackie.samo 🤮

→ adamfantilli 🤮

→ dylanduke25 🤮

→ edwards.73 🤮

→ colecaufield 🤮

→ lhughes_06 goddammit

adamfantilli god i hate you both

→ lhughes_06 🤯

→ yourusername the feeling is mutual!!! 😘

→ lhughes_06 why the kissy face 🤨🤨

→ yourusername I’M SORRY

→ lhughes_06 it’s okay 😁

username22 MY CUTIES

username15 gross yuck barf vomit (oh my god he’s so in love)

username49 buy the ring rn luke.

rutgermcgroarty if you don’t stop posting about each other holy shit

→ lhughes_06 me and my girl at your service 🫡

→ yourusername me and my man at your service 🫡

→ rutgermcgroarty do you just copy everything he says

→ yourusername do you just get on my nerves to piss me off

→ rutgermcgroarty i can’t believe you just found that out

dylanduke25 you should see our dms

→ lhughes_06 oh god

→ yourusername THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH OUR DMS

→ dylanduke25 yeah except you complain to me every time he breathes in a girl’s direction

→ yourusername THATS NOT TRUE

→ lhughes_06 awww you’re jealous?

→ yourusername NO

→ lhughes_06 it’s okay to be a little jealous sometimes i know it’s hard

→ yourusername SHUT UP I DONT GET JEALOUS

luca.fantilli WE GET IT UR DATING

→ lhughes_06 WE GET IT UR JEALOUS

→ luca.fantilli 🖕

username57 pop quiz who hates dryshughes the most

→ lhughes_06 trick question they all hate us equally

jamie.drysdale my sister won’t stop talking about you MAKE HER SHUT UP

→ lhughes_06 i have a lot of ways i can shut her up

→ jamie.drysdale OH GOD EW NO GROSS

→ yourusername LUKE

→ _quinnhughes LUKE

→ jackhughes LUKE

→ lhughes_06 WHAT ITS NOT LIKE IM LYING

mackie.samo IS THAT GO KARTING DATE THE REASON SHE SKIPPED OUR WEEKLY SPONGEBOB MARATHON

→ lhughes_06 ……….no……?

→ mackie.samo LUKE WARREN HUGHES

→ lhughes_06 THERES NO NEED FOR THE GOVERNMENT NAME

colecaufield aw you two are adorable

→ lhughes_06 you’re like the uncle no one invited to the family reunion

→ colecaufield absolutely uncalled for

→ yourusername LUKEY WHAT

→ lhughes_06 that was a bit mean i apologize

→ colecaufield just a bit huh???

jackhughes apparently mom shows dad every single post you make about lil drizz

→ lhughes_06 i know he keeps texting me about it

→ _quinnhughes he has like 20 burner accounts so he can like all your posts

→ lhughes_06 wait WHAT

→ lhughes_06 is that who keeps liking my posts like a second after i post them

username83 remember the song quoting era yall were so cute trying to be slick

username50 wondering when luke will finally start sharing his gf

→ lhughes_06 never

_alexturcotte so you’re like her uber driver

→ lhughes_06 i guess so

→ _alexturcotte you guess so?? 😭

→ lhughes_06 i mean i’m also like her golfer

→ _alexturcotte golfer????

→ lhughes_06 i fill her holes up pretty good too

this reply has been deleted

→ yourusername LUKE WHAT THE FUCK

→ jackhughes bro we all saw that

→ markestapa THERES NO POINT IN DELETING IT CUZ TURCS SENT A SS IN THE GC

→ trevorzegras YOU’RE NOT FUCKING SLICK MY DUDE

→ lhughes_06 maybe i’m not but she is fs trevorzegras

→ rutgermcgroarty UR JUST MAKING IT WORSE MAN

→ jamie.drysdale GOOD FUCKING LORD THATS MY SISTER

→ adamfantilli WHAT THE HELLLLL 🗣️

series m. list notes ) so TECHNICALLY this is the epilogue and the last chapter of the feather au (it doesn’t really feel like it is) but i mean i’m ofc going to be open to you guys sending requests and thoughts about my dryshughes babies because we all love them too much and i might also add more bonus chapters like later on and stuff but yeah!! i guess this is the end… for now 😈

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys@loveforaugust@cstads-blog@h0e4fictionalme-n@bunting58

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

no one is talking about it enough but the character relationship shift the coopers have with barclay was so nice. he stops trying to take advantage of them once he spends about an hour of vulnerability with mike on fatherhood and after settling that land deal, he starts sending his old family baby toys to mike and alison, like. this is the most underrated character development we got in series 5. i am baffled the six idiots decided to make the asshole neighbor not an asshole anymore, especially after the petty shit he put alison through in series 4 good lord

[barclaysangel]

@streets-in-paradise Lucy look! Another Andy variant!

So, I just saw this on Pinterest and was like

ALEX VINCENT WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

[rachelsfav-queer]

Wenclay Hate Sex 👍

(All Characters Are 18+)

(WARNING: This is very much hate sex through and through, so don’t expect them being remotely nice to each other. There is proper aftercare at the end so don’t worry)

Wednesday whined as another harsh slap sounded in the room, a delicious stinging sensation sprouting across her cheek mere seconds later. Her whine was soon muffled as her head was shoved back down into the bed below her. She was then reminded by her lover, her rival, Queen Bee of Nevermore, Bianca Barclay, that she only wants to hear her pathetic noises when Bianca says she can make them.

After a full day of Wednesday purposefully getting on her nerves by mouthing off to her and being her extra cocky self, Bianca was sick of the goth’s shit and told her to “keep fucking quiet, brat” or she’d make Wednesday really regret being such a pain in the ass.

Though Wednesday knew deep down that Bianca wouldn’t do anything to actually hurt her, she also knew when to stop pushing and just obey the taller girl. That usually is the moment that she enters Bianca’s dorm room, which is where she found herself now, specifically face down, ass up on her bed.

The siren had grabbed her strap-on and pulled out her biggest dildo, way too big for the speed that she was now pounding it into Wednesday’s ass, though Wednesday was the only person in Vermont that could conceivably take this level of abuse and still be screaming in pleasure. Yet Wednesday remains silent, or as silent as she can.

With every whine, whimper, moan or cry that slips from the seer’s lips, Bianca exacts swift punishment with harsh slaps and hits across her body, leaving behind precious bruises that would need to be hidden the next day unless they wanted higher authorities involved. But it’s all too delicious to Wednesday and she wouldn’t have it any other way, Bianca’s dominance and abuse of her is exactly what Wednesday needs and wants so very desperately, otherwise she wouldn’t act like such a brat every day towards her best rival.

Bianca grabs Wednesday’s hips and suddenly pulls out of her ass, spanking the seer’s butt harshly and nonstop to shut her pathetic whimpers up. “Goddess, would you shut the fuck up already? Impatient little whore. If you were patient, you’d realize what I was doing. Now stay quiet and stay still and I just might let you cum all over my cock tonight, dumb fucking slut,” Bianca speaks harshly, every degrading word lighting a fire in Wednesday’s core, and her heart, and her mind. It’s so very delicious.

Soon, Wednesday feels the fake dick being shoved inside her pussy all at once and it takes all of her willpower as an Addams to not scream out in delightful pain. She keeps quiet like a good girl, for once, Bianca thinks silently, smirking at how obedient the raven gets only for her at the end of each day. Part of her wants to take a picture, maybe even record it, just as proof that she’s the only person in the whole damn world to get The Wednesday Addams on her hands and knees. But she doesn’t do that, she doesn’t hate her that much.

Since Wednesday was so good, Bianca decides to treat her by giving her a couple seconds to adjust instead of just immediately pounding her pretty pussy into oblivion. A couple seconds is all she gets though and the taller girl is fucking Wednesday without mercy and surprisingly enough, Wednesday keeps quiet and still.

That doesn’t stop Bianca from giving Wednesday the ass slapping of a lifetime while fucking her pussy brutally and she doesn’t stop until Wednesday’s poor butt is shades of deep purple and red and the seer is left with no hope of being able to sit tomorrow.

The raven holds on for a long while, but eventually the brutal and cruel abuse of her ass and pussy gets her right to the edge and before the shorter woman can even wonder if she’ll get it, Bianca whispers permission to cum and Wednesday can no longer hold back her screams and moans. The orgasm is so intense that it actually brings tears to Wednesday’s eyes and they flow down her face for the first time that night, nothing else having been able to do so. As Bianca slows her movements gradually, working the seer through her orgasm, Wednesday continues crying, though not negatively.

Bianca instantly switches up her demeanor to one so very gentle and kind, nobody would be able to recognize her from a few moments ago. She gently rubs a hand up and down Wednesday’s arched back, humming softly a comforting melody, using only a tiny bit of her song to help Wednesday settle more smoothly. The siren pulls out carefully and throws the strap and dildo into a basket by the bed to be cleaned later.

She doesn’t bother with any soothing cream for Wednesday’s bruises and marks as Wednesday herself has said that she prefers to not use it, finding the pain genuinely comforting to her. So instead, Bianca gently picks Wednesday up and turns her over on the bed, pulling the sheets and blankets from under her and covering her up with them.

Bianca reaches to her nightstand to grab a water bottle and some easy snacks for Wednesday, instructing the girl to drink and eat. Wednesday, no longer crying, scowls at the offered items and speaks, “I don’t need them and I don’t need ‘aftercare’. I’m an Addams, pain is our pleasure.”

Bianca doesn’t tolerate her stubbornness though and shoves the items in Wednesday’s hands anyway, pushing them up to her face, “Actually, missy, we’ve discussed this before. Everyone needs aftercare, especially after a scene that intense, even bratty little Addamses like you. It’s not an option, I am taking care of you and making sure you’re okay. So quit the bratty act and be a good girl for me, understand? I will siren song you into letting me take care of you.”

Wednesday pouts but accepts the tender affection from her rival, knowing that when the siren speaks in that tone, she means what she’s saying. But Wednesday would be a liar if she said that she didn’t enjoy the affection she receives from Bianca after every sexual encounter between them, it’s actually one of her favorite parts of this relationship, half-friend/half-rival, she has with the taller woman. Bianca is very gentle and kind and loving with Wednesday during aftercare and everything after sex until they’re back in public again. Wednesday cannot deny that she loves the feeling of being taken care of by Bianca and Bianca only, so instead she stays silent and simply obeys the girl at the center of her heart.

Once Wednesday is fed and watered, Bianca scoops her up in her arms, pulling Wednesday’s face into her chest and Wednesday tries not to blush at the proximity to her rival’s bosom and of course fails spectacularly. Graciously though, Bianca doesn’t comment and instead just rubs Wednesday’s back and strokes her long, loose hair while she hums another simple, comforting melody to the smaller girl, one meant to usher her gently into sleep and of course it works easily, without even a hint of song behind her voice.

Wednesday soon drifts off into delightful nightmares, but not before burrowing deeper into Bianca’s boobs, practically nuzzling them and pulling a tiny coo from the taller girl before she continues humming.

“Good girl, Wends. I… I love you.”

End <3

(I’m gonna be honest, I’m trying to get myself used to writing and posting again without Caitlyn around lol. She lied about so much, part of me wonders if she was lying when she said my writing was actually good, though I know that’s stupid lol. But hopefully I can find my own confidence in my work again! This is me taking the first step in doing so. I hope y’all enjoyed!)

[gregrulzok]

Honestly cannot overstate how much I love Sam Barclay.

Why is this character even fucking here. Why is he so important. Why is he a literal actual real life Irish Playwright who actually existed - why is he the only vampire who is explicitly a real world person, and why such an obscure one.

It's so fucking funny.

He's so charming. He's so funny. The big fake vampire teeth. The fake ass scythe. The Irish accent. The rat thing. "Seems a bit German." "Oh you're grand."

My friend took one look at the bitch and said "Hear me out, trans woman" and now that's stuck in my head. I have to force myself to call him "he" because in my mind he's a beautiful trans woman for no reason other than it tickles me.

Why is he still alive. How did he get away. Why is Armand clearly fucking lying about him just happening to escape without either him or Louis being able to figure out how. Why did Louis misremember specifically his location. Why did Armand manipulate his memories.

What's his fucking deal. I don't care. Give me more.

Why do we keep focusing on him appearing in season 3 despite the fact that he literally doesn't matter. What are we doing.

Make him Santino. Make him trans. Make him DJ for Lestat. Make him be the hero of the story. Make him the central villain. Make him an irredeemable bastard. Make him date Rashid.

Genuinely I don't give a shit please just give me more Sam.

[resplendentgoldenwings]

"77 Years Based on a Seismic Lie!"

Watched the episode last night before bed and a few choice scenes this morning.

In spite of all the touching, wonderful things that happened my favorite moment is when they wrap-up and Daniel starts asking his follow up question.

He's got this sort of forced casual air, I'm not doing anything, I'm not dangerous. These aren't question that are going to explode your entire fucking relationship! This isn't dangerous af.

He starts out talking about the fucking tractor salesman of all things, some shit from episode one, seems totally random, innocuous af. And then asks about Sam Barclay of all things another small unimportant detail. Softball questions that seem to go nowhere, connected to nothing, questions that confuse Louis and Armand in their triviality.

Then comes he question about the number of soldiers in the townhouse. How many soldiers did Lestat mindfuck out of the townhouse? 10, 15. Louis like 30. And then that little, "huh" that makes Louis inquire before Daniel presents his theory couching it in a gruff yet gentle self-effacing way.

"It's probably a stretch." "This is just how I'm built."

But that one piano key drops.

Armand tries to get control of the situation. Tries to stop what's happening but this thing is in motion now, the horse is out of the barn and it's not going back in.

When Armand starts to challenge him Daniel decides to cut to the chase.

"Lestat loved him. He would have tried to save Louis as much as Armand would have."

And then he goes in for the kill with the original copy of the play. Reading the notes Armand had written in the margins over 70 years ago and then giving it to Louis with a "read it for yourself," his tone dripping with disdain after giving Armand a look of pure disgust.

The vampires are absolutely riveted.

Armand knows the jig is up. Louis still doesn't want to believe it, but it's all right there. Armand directed the play. Armand planned to kill Claudia and Louis too. Armand wasn't the one who saved Louis from death at the trial it was Lestat!

And even though he's absolutely risking his whole fucking life Daniel is ready to confront Armand and delighted to call him out on his bullshit. With that kind of courage I'd probably make him into a vampire too, shit!

Anyway the whole scene is brilliant I love it. I love watching the whole thing come crashing down around their head and then of course a minute later we see literal walls come crashing down around Daniel's head.

Brilliant! I loved it my favorite moment in the whole. I might write some other rambling post about the finale, but this scene is living rent free in my head right.

[cornerofhell]

I apologize if you’ve answered this already, do Andy and Nica have a particular holiday they love to celebrate together?

CHRISTMAS!

Let's see what their first Christmas was like, shall we? (Note the only thing changed from canon is Ms Fairchild being alive, and something else, other than that, just regular canon Chucky movies/series)

Nica and Andy now sat tiredly at their apartment, relaxing after the Christmas party at the Norris/Barclay house.

They had gorged themselves on turkey, sweet potatoes, greenbean casserole, mashed potatoes, and all the things you would find at a Christmas dinner, along with some decorated cookies.

They had both surprisingly had a blast with everyone there, actually having fun despite everything that had been happening. The kids seemed to have had a good time, the games were fun, and it just felt cozy. Very family-like.

Now the roomates sat at their own home, opening a bottle of wine to let the night cool down and for them to relax. Rudolph played on the TV in the background as the two of them sat at the kitchen table, sipping from their glasses and talking about the night.

"I don't think I'll ever eat turkey again after how much I ate." Andy chuckled, refilling his glass. "Your mom makes a mean stuffing, I think everyone picked that thing to the bone." Nica laughed, leaning back against her chair.

The man took a sip from his glass, shaking his head. "With how many plates she was offering you, the kids, and Rachel, it'd be a miracle if the thing had bones left." Which was true, Karen Barclay had made sure everyone got their fair share of Christmas dinner that night.

Andy's phone buzzed and he lifted it, looking it over before standing up. "Shit, I gotta go get something, hold on." And with that, he walked to the bathroom, leaving the woman alone by herself. Nica nodded, turning back to her own phone, using her hooks to scroll through the unanswered messages she had sent GG. They were supposed to call soon, the souls never missed a call in their life. Had something gone wro-

Nica looked up to see Andy walking back into the living room/kitchen combination, with a large box in his arms. Much larger than the box that would normally run chills up their spines. About four foot tall, four foot wide. The box was wrapped with brightly covered green and red paper, the lid having a huge, green bow. This was SO unlike the Barclay man, what on earth?

The man placed the large package down, as Nica rolled over to him, an eyebrow raised. "What the hell is this?" She wasn't mad, if anything it made her smile at such an outlandish thing for Andy to do. "Want me to get your present? It's in my room, I doubt it's as big as this though..." Andy shook his head, awkwardly looking down at the box, then back to Nica. "In a sec... Uh... Merry Christmas."

His roommate looked at him, then back at the box, then back at him, as though trying to get the angle at why she had been provided with such a large gift, before she finally relaxed for a second, and reached for the lid. "Is it a puppy?" She teased, starting to lift the box's lid.

"Nah I'd say we're better."

The shriek that left Nica's lips probably woke up all their neighbors as she quickly pulled Glen and Glenda's dolls out of the box and into her arms. "Damn Nica, my ear! First you shot Glen then trying to break my eardrum?" Glenda laughed, wrapping their arms around their friend, Glen giving their twin a playful glare as they joined too.

"How are you two here?! Oh my god, I thought you didn't plan on coming back!" Nica squeezed both dolls tightly, finally setting them down at the table where they sat.

"We did... but we missed you. Don't worry, we made sure to be extra careful." Glen held one of Nica's hooks in their hands. "As for how we got here, ask your little boyfriend-" "Hey watch it." "- we've had this planned for a month or two." Glenda gestured to Andy, whose cheeks were a little flushed at the comment they had made.

Nica turned to Andy, her eyes wide. "You planned this...?" "For a while. I know you've been missing them a lot. So I got their numbers and contacted them to come up with a plan. They wrapped the box and chilled out here while we were at the party." Andy gestured to said box that had held both dolls, a small smile on his lips.

"We're staying for a few weeks, if that's alright. We originally thought about going to the party but we figured that the guests needed some holidays without dolls for once." Glen smiled sheepishly. "He wanted to just give you the box, but you know us, we couldn't have an entrance without a little flair." Glenda chuckled, causing Nica to laugh.

"Stay as long as you want, as long as you're safe. I missed you both so much." Nica pulled the dolls into another hug, her eyes looking over at Andy with a look of thanks, admiration, and a smile that he was glad to finally see. Andy smiled back, and she swore he had that same admiration in his eyes, that she swore made her own cheeks flush, even without the wine.

"Andy... Thank you."

------------------------

I DON'T CARE THAT IT'S APRIL, HAVE A BARCLAYPIERCE FIC DAMNIT

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Ooh, I haven't missed WIPW! (For the record, today is the only day this week I have not thought it was Wednesday.) Could I request Angel!Neil, whichever gets fewer requests? (RIP Nicky, it was nice knowing you.) It was a *very* close thing with Mer Roadtrip, because oh wow do I feel like they are In Danger. If Angel!Neil isn't being kind to you, feel free to make this one for Mer Roadtrip instead.

WIP Wednesday (3/12) | Mer Roadtrip AU (Part 120)

"Think I'm gonna order the maple pecan waffles. You want something?"

"Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. And black coffee." Neil says, making Andrew grimace.

"Boring. You eat like an old man."

"It's what I like. I'll be back." Neil says as Andrew picks up the phone. He shuts the door behind him and starts towards the elevators in the middle of the hall. It arrives rather quickly and he steps into the box with an old lady and her tiny dog. Neil keeps away from it and when he notices the camera in the corner, he adjusts his hat to cover his face better. A force of habit.

He holds up the wall as they begin their descent and wonders how much more money there is waiting for him downstairs. Hopefully it'll be enough to make up for his latest ID purchase. He sort of hopes it's not a huge amount though, since his bag is stuffed full already. He supposes he could always shove some in with Andrew's things.

The other mer has proven he's not going anywhere without Neil, that they're in this together. And it would be good for him to have some cash, just in case they were to get separated. Having someone else beside him makes things a bit easier, even if that someone is as obnoxious and annoying as Andrew. Still, Neil thinks he likes him. Even though he has shit music taste, he’s smart and funny. And he's got grit. Plus Neil's pretty sure he would kill someone no questions asked— he seems to be waiting for an opportunity to use that new knife of his. Neil's caught him playing with it a couple times.

Neil is so lost in thought that he jolts when the elevator comes to an abrupt stop. It chimes as the doors open and the old lady gets off on the sixth floor. Once they're gone Neil pushes his thumb into the button marked lobby. Without the little mongrel panting up a storm, Neil can actually hear the muzak in the elevator. And it is quite frankly the most annoying shit he's ever had the displeasure of listening to. 

It's worse than those terrible radio stations Andrew somehow ends up finding now matter how many miles they put behind them. He hadn't noticed the music last night, because Andrew was beside him and complaining that Neil had left him outside in the cold for hours. By Neil's count it was about twenty-three minutes. Andrew is a drama queen. But his voice is far easier to tolerate than the so-called easy listening he's being bombarded with now.

Finally, blissfully, the elevator alerts him that he's made it to the ground floor. The door chimes as it opens and Neil exits, hands in his pockets and cap pulled down low as he starts across the lobby. He doesn't get very far before he hears a very familiar, very horrifying, cackle coming from the front desk. It takes him too long to place it but when he does, his heart sinks. Surely it can't be...

No. It is. Of course it is. Goddamn it.

Lola fucking Malcolm is leaned halfway across the desk, sharing what's surely a riveting conversation with Barclay. The hotelier-slash-con man is all smiles for her— evidently he must have a soft spot for strung out sociopaths. Or he's being paid well to deliver a certain fish on a silver platter. That's probably more likely.

For a split second, Neil is frozen. He considers bolting for the door and getting back to the car. But after patting his pockets he realizes he left the keys upstairs, like a fool. So instead he takes a couple steps backwards, until his heel bumps the elevator's now-closed doors. He turns his head very slightly so he can see the mash the call button and keep an eye on the motherfuckers across the way. 

The elevator comes quickly but damns him in the process. Because when it chimes, Barclay looks up and his smile evaporates when he sees Neil. Neil glares at him as he backs into the elevator but Barclay merely shrugs a 'what can you do?' gesture and raises a finger to point over Lola's shoulder. Neil leaps to the side and mashes every button twice. The doors close just as Lola turns around.

He runs his hand along every button on the elevator to give himself time to breathe. But it's HARD. Lola is here. Lola is here and Neil is alone in an elevator. He's fucking trapped. 

But actually he's not alone. With almost numb hands, Neil pulls his phone out and speed dials Andrew's number. The other boy answers on the second ring.

"Neil. What's wrong?"

"They're here, Andrew. They're here! I told you something was off. Barclay sold me out."

Andrew sucks in a breath. "What?"

"Listen, listen. I'm in the elevator. I need you to gather up our things and get the fuck out of the room," Neil says, keeping his voice hushed because even though he's currently the only passenger of this solid gold death trap he's not sure if the security camera picks up audio. "I'm sure Lola has already been informed which room we're in so you have to get out. Right now. She's probably already on her way up in the other elevator. Get both our bags and the keys are on my bed. Get to the car as quick as possible. And cover your face if you can."

Andrew takes a moment to absorb Neil's instructions then says, "You got it." Andrew pauses. "Neil. How are you going to get to the car?"

"Whenever the elevator stops I'm gonna haul ass down the stairs."

"That's going to be risky."

"I'm well aware. It doesn't matter. I'll do it. But I need you to be in the car with the engine running. Can you do that?"

"I will," Andrew says. And Neil knows it's a promise. "Call me if you need me. I'm gonna try to buy you a shield, but I don't know how successful I'll be. Good luck." Before Neil can ask what he means the line goes dead.

[tumblingxelian]

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - The Nevermore Affair

Summary:

When Wednesday Addams was forced to attend Nevermore Academy she was confident about two things.

1: She would be escaping in short order. 2: She would in no way follow her mothers matrimonial footsteps.

Which begs the question of how she managed to find herself engaged twice over within the first twenty four hours!?

Worse still, it is to the two most vexing people at Nevermore, Enid Sinclair and Bianca Barclay.

Concept:

Nevermore is quite literally a magical place.

One suffused with the power of oath and ritual, so much so that it requires a specialized rulebook to make sure you don't accidentally invoke a binding spell on accident.

Nevermore's Guide to the Magical and Mundane. This was a guidebook that Wednesday did not read because she had no intention of staying.

This becomes a problem on the first night when her argument with Enid is not interrupted and spills over into an actual fight after Wednesday ignored Enid's physical "Back off" warning.

This is a fight Wednesday loses due to not knowing Enid knew martial arts, underestimating her Lycan strength and generally assuming Enid posed no real threat and would become afraid the moment she gave her a slight scare.

Instead said fight ended with Enid's fangs buried in her neck, fangs Enid normally doesn't have access to.

Enid freaks out, apologies and flees while Wednesday is left annoyed, confused, a touch disappointed in several ways but dismissed it as "I miscalculated, won't happen again."

Long story short, the pose Enid adopted was actually a Lycan custom, saying "If you step forward to battle, you place your life in my hands"

So when she wins & doesn't kill Wednesday… Yeah you get it.

The very next morning, Wednesday arrives at fencing all kitted up in her suit from home, mask on her face and neck markings covered.

As is custom she picks a fight with Bianca and after a win, a loss with the final round being a tie breaker, she demands either military rules or something with similar principles much to the tittering of the crowed.

Wednesday herself ignores it, simply having defaulted to something she knows will make the fight more dangerous cos her parents always did it and she is excited but also wants to know Bianca off balance.

Duel of Dominion perhaps? Duel of Blood perhaps? Not sure.

Bianca, is incredibly vexed and not a little bit scared. Interpreting this as Wednesday trying to either 'claim' her or intimidate her into surrendering, but she is not about to back down.

Enid's efforts to subtly intervene are ignored by all and while normally the coach would intervene. Due to a mix of Wednesday's background and the fact Bianca can just refuse he doesn't.

They duel, Bianca wins.

"I suppose I will get to see you in white," She intones, before licking Wednesday's blood off the blade and sealing the pact.

"Its barely a scratch" Wednesday dismissed, taking off her helmet and revealing Enid's mark.

Much to the crowds surprise; the act itself may even have been encouraged by Enid.

Xavier starts losing his shit and is sent away.

It is worth noting that the binding can be broken, but that is an expensive and drawn out process and requires the victors permission.

Bianca intended to just hold onto it to keep Wednesday until she could extract a major debt from the Addams for breaking it.

Enid has no idea if the bond can be broken or even happened given her own issues, but was hoping to find a solution in secret.

Wednesday is sent to the nurses office for the cut but also to ensure she is physically well and also not been siren songed or anything else. This is also where she finds out about... All this and reacts as you'd expect.

Meanwhile, Coach Vlad drags Enid & Bianca to Weems to explain how Wednesday somehow got herself engaged by ancient rights of Lycan culture and Nevermore dueling culture within 24 hours!

Fun fact, but because both of these happened and in such quick succession, breaking the bindings will be much harder than normal.

Weems: I have the sneaking suspicion this is going to be about Miss Addams somehow. Enid (Trying to ease the tension) Well its Misses Addams now isn't it? Bianca (Exhausted with this) If you think I'm taking her name you're insane. Weems:... I trust... I pray that you two are merely telling a poor joke. Vlad: No Madame, I am afraid not.

Somewhere in Nevermore a scream of outrage echoed through the stone halls.

Notes:

This is very much a "Crack taken seriously" style story. It begins as a comedy of errors and becomes much more messy and complicated as the three have to navigate the bonds, trying to break them, live with them, other people's perceptions of them and so on. Let alone the murder mystery.

[wilderlore-stuff]

Wilderlore Incorrect Quotes (Day 13)

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Audrian: Can I have some water?

Runa: *starts chugging their water bottle*

Runa: *chokes from drinking too fast*

Runa: *spills water all over themself*

Runa, coughing: I don't have any water.

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Shazi: I don't dab. I stab.

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Audrian: If God’s ever been mad at anything I’ve ever said, he hasn’t done shit about it.

Audrian: So he either doesn’t care or he’s a coward.

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Barclay: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate?

Tadg: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

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Barclay: If a demon possessed me, I’d just be like, “Okay, take it from here, good luck man.”

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Leopold: Sometimes I like to call people by the wrong name to show them I don’t care about them.

Cyril: That’s brilliant.

Leopold: Thank you, Audrian.

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Audrian: Who wants to make fifty bucks?

Cyril: How?

Audrian: I need someone to take the fall.

Cyril: What did you do?

Audrian: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked.

Leopold, from the other room: Oh my god.

Audrian: ...

Leopold: OH MY GOD!

Cyril: Make it a hundred.

Audrian: Deal.

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Hasu: How do you do that?

Shazi: I'm fearless.

Cyril: I saw you run from bees yesterday. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad.

Shazi: I'm mostly fearless.

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Yasha: If this plan goes down the drain, where should we regroup?

Audrian: The afterlife, I guess.

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Cyril: You know I think my life has value.

Runa: Who are you and what have you done with Cyril?!

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Cecily: Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.