#is this count as a one shot?

[mangokabuto]

And if I said we should be having more fun with their hair. What then.

They should have dress up parties on wash day and style each other for hours i think. Quality time w peepaw qvq

(btw if you can figure out all of the references i put in usopp's beads u get a prize 😊 Good thing i made that literally actually unfair and impossible 😌🫶

Hint: there are 59 refs, and they are only there to entertain Me Specifically)

[nartothelar]

comic commission for @scribesynnox: a what if au. what if percy hadn’t been in agonizing pain while taking atlas’ burden

[wtfforged]

[rocketbirdie]

The Rebirth B-Team that we deserved...

[kaleidochimera]

Tell me your opinions on the stuff. Any stuff.

Grins. Smiles, even

I'm using you as an excuse to infodump my theory about the Island because I've had no in to do that, and my theory is pure opinion. Anyways:

THE ISLAND IS STUCK IN THE FUCKING FUTURE

(SCARE CHORD)

Hi so you might ask me. What the fuck do you mean by that. Well. Let's start with what we know about the Island, the King, and Wish Craft. (long ass post under cut. sorry)

The Island was redacted from the perception of outside world, via Wish Craft.

Wish Craft has the power to enable Time Craft. We see this primarily through Siffrin's timeloops, but also through the King's powers.

One of the King's powers is to show the saviors a "vision of the future."

...And this same attack is deflected back at the King by Mirabelle in ACT 5, in which the King is able to see the Island before being frozen in time.

...So. The King's "vision of the future." We're never told explicitly what this vision is. All we know is that it's apparently powerful enough to wipe the party in one hit, hearing it from a distance hurts your head, and that whatever Siffrin (and Loop) saw, they don't seem to actually be able to describe it. Even the King himself doesn't know what his vision entails.

We don't know whether the party all sees the same thing when struck by the vision, and Adrienne's answer to the question about it in the Reddit AMA is. vague? It's not a "no," and the specific wording makes me think the answer might be yes. But that's me reading into it.

Now. What do we know about the Island's redaction? The Island was affected by the wish recently, as in "like a decade ago" recently. We know that nobody in Vaugarde or the rest of the world is capable of thinking about the Island, anything closely tied to the Island's culture, or people on the Island for very long. When they do recall these things, they slip right out of reach. Particularly, the consequence for trying to think about the Island (or, more specifically, break the wish that forces the Island out of perception) is significant pain, localized in the head.

And that said pain is enough to become lethal, if pressed hard enough.

From here forward I'm running with the assumption that the King's "vision of the future" is not personalized to any individual, and is unchanging throughout the course of the whole story. Now. Remember the end of ACT 5, where the King gets hit with the deflected "vision of the future", and instead of dying, he recalls the Island and gets frozen in time? Very odd, yeah? Why wouldn't the King just die like everyone else does? He even does take 9999 damage when trying to say its name, like Siffrin does, and like the party does when they're hit by the attack.

Well. We know that he has a "true wish" that the ability to freeze Vaugarde in time grants. I don't think it's at all a stretch to guess that the King's "true wish" is to be able to remember the Island. My personal guess is that the King (and Siffrin) brought this "true wish" into effect via the "SAY ITS NAME" sequence- he even tries three times, a significant number in wishing.

The King (and Siffrin's) wish breaks, because it can't be fulfilled in this moment without breaking the wish to prevent the Island from being thought about. However. Consider the conditions at the end of ACT 5- the King sees the vision of the future reflected back to him, and what he sees is the Island. He remembers the Island, fulfilling his own wish, and is frozen in time. I consider this a compromise between his wish and the one binding the Island- the King gets to remember the Island, but nobody alive is able to think about it, because he's frozen in time; it's like the Universe is correcting itself (I WILL GET BACK TO THIS). The wish of all of Vaugarde to defeat the King is fulfilled, since he is no longer a threat, and Siffrin's wish wraps itself up soon after.

MY POINT BEING. The King's attack is a vision of the future. This "future" is of the Island, in some uncorrupted state. The saviors see it when he attacks them, and he sees it when it is deflected back to him.

The logical next question is "okay, so the Island exists in the future, but how do you know time shenanigans are even related to the Island?"

Recall a very odd series of interactions throughout the game, in which you try to interact with a piece of equipment that you already own.

The game rewinds slightly, before the item disappears, as the Universe corrects itself.

This is awfully similar to two particular events: looping back without seeing the death screen, and talking to the Daydreaming One about her sister. The latter is more interesting to me for the purposes of this theory.

In both instances, something is misaligned within the Universe (an item existing in two places, someone remembering something they're not supposed to) and it is corrected through some sort of rewind. Also compare the dialogue above to when you try to give Mirabelle the Stylish Bow when you already own it.

The world glitches, but Siffrin defuses the situation before the Universe has to intervene. Omitted from the screenshot is the fact that Mirabelle's portraits switch to happy from "catastrophically anxious" with no transition after Siffrin shows her where the bow is. Important to note is that when Mirabelle tries to recall receiving the bow, her head hurts, much like how trying to break the Island wish causes a headache.

The Universe leads you away from perception, and you can only follow.

My theory that I keep circling around is that through Wish Craft, the Island has been displaced temporally. The denizens of the Island, as well as the Island itself, still exist, but they are in the future. The Island is still loaded into the world, like how equipment is before you try to interact with it, and the Island cannot leave this quantum state, because it never actually went anywhere. The magnitude of the redaction event is so severe with the Island, because it is so much larger as an entity than a sword or a bow. There are of course things I don't really have pieced together, like why somebody would wish the Island into the future, how far into the future it is, or why equipment behaves this way. But it's the only Island theory I've seen that I have some level of confidence in, so I might as well lay out my cards for it.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

!MDNI!

Drink the Potion!

Fairy!Dick Grayson x Reader

wc: 1.6 K summary: Dick Grayson accidentally turns into a tiny fairy and you take care of him. warnings: masturbation, overstimulation, dry humping, riding

From the moment that unusal magician Villian transformed Dick into a tiny sized fairy, it was a hell of a few days trying to get along with the new change. You‘ve been trying to contact John Constantine to fix it, but it seems like he has more important things to take care of right now.

So, you have taken it into your own hands, as his usual mission partner to take care of him while he is stuck in that tiny sized form. He looks exactly the same, except that he is literally the size of your palm. Well, a little bigger than that, but still… it‘s comically small. You made sure to get him food in smaller portions, getting him a bath in your bathroom sink with drops of soap for him to use, and he can sleep wherever he wants. Of course, he settles on sleeping near you without you crushing him.

Beside the few negative aspects of the situation, it‘s actually funny seeing him fuss over certain things he can‘t do nowadays. For example, change into different clothes since he‘s been thankfully shrinked together with his suit. That‘s why he is basically stuck in it before someone can get him back into his actual size. But there is also one more thing that has changed since then.

He became way more horny. You didn‘t notice at first because he was hiding it as best as he could. Until you caught him shamelessly jerking off under your blanket. It was nighttime, and you thought he had already settled into bed and fell asleep as usual, but he proved you wrong once you opened your blanket.

There lays Dick on full display, lazily stroking his cock while locking eyes with you and grinning lightly at your shocked expression. You don‘t know why, but you weren‘t really mad at him for it. Everyone has their needs, right? And it just so happened that his needy hormones spiked up in that tiny body of his. How could anyone manage to deal with such emotions in a small form like this anyway?

And that‘s how it started. You both settled on leaving him alone during that and lending him your bedroom for it. You‘ll just need to wait until he is finished and pretend as if nothing happened. Besides, you can‘t really ignore it. Both of you. He usually makes some small jokes about it, which just turn into a small banter between the two of you and complaining about John ignoring this problem so he doesn‘t have to fix him. This goes on for a few days until he verbalises his needs to you. It turns out that simply jerking off doesn‘t do much for him anymore and he seems to need more. He isn‘t satisfied.

That only leaves to one conclusion, obviously. You are taking this problem into your own hands. Again.

It‘s not like you aren‘t good friends, so you can help him out with that too. And this is how it really started. Every evening, after patrol, you slipped into your bed and helped him out with his aching needs. Even when he fit into your palm, it still felt more intimate than any other things you‘ve ever done together.

Laying side by side, having him naked with his hands behind his neck, you carefully held his hard cock between your fingers and did your best on finding an even pace for now. The room filled with tiny whimpers and low groans from his side, managing to find a torturous pace for him. His chest heaving and cheeks flushed, he didn‘t stop you. He wanted more, wanted to see how much he could take in his overly needy state.

Hips jerking up, he finished, and smaller spurts of cum coated your fingers. It was fascinating to see such a tiny creature be pleasured to such an extend. His moans became louder, even muffled against his hand. Once he was calmed down after his first orgasm, you retreated your hand, but he quickly grabbed your finger and silently begged you to keep going. After checking in if that‘s what he really wants, you play with his cock again until he cums all over once more. Needless to say, you didn‘t stop until he literally passed out happily in your free palm, nuzzled against your thumb.

It became more of a routine for you both to lay down and please the other. Dick really wanted to please you just as much, but it wasn‘t possible with how small his hands were now. He would genuinely crawl inside you at this point and please you in that way, but he knows it‘s a weird request and just won‘t voice it, in fear you would be scared off.

Frustrated, he let you tease and overstimulate him as much as you both wanted. It was pure bliss for him. The way you delicately stroke his length in a languid pace before you switch up and set a brutal pace for him. The way his back arches up, the way his hips stutter and squirm under you— it‘s a sight to see.

Hissing noises escape from him every time you keep going even, after his high, making him sensitive and flushed. Once you stop your movements, he sighs in relief but starts bucking his hips into your fingers lazily again. He just can‘t stop. He knows he probably comes off as a needy loser like this, but he couldn‘t care less when there‘s someone willing to give him what he wants.

Every time, his brain goes to absolute mush after one of your sessions, he starts babbling on about how perfect you are, how much he wants to please and taste you. But you know it‘s not possible until someone can fix this poor guy.

He promised to get revenge on you for overstimulating him so much once he can get back to his actual size. And with him being rather tiny with those elf ears and wings on his back, it‘s generally hard to take him seriously.

Once John finally had the time to fix the siye problem, he just tossed a smaller glass bottle your way and told him to drink some drops of it. Without any further trouble, he leaves you be, and you give Dick that magical potion that should help him.

Indeed, Dick grows back into his normal size, a head taller than you again. That famous smirk plastered all over his face. Finally, he can get his so-called ‚revenge‘.

With strong hands, the now taller man picks you up and makes you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips come crashing against yours, needy for proper pleasure. He slumps back into the couch and keeps his hands splayed across your hips, savouring the taste of you.

Light groans slip from him while you lose your mind over the unexpected action, but you can‘t bring yourself to stop. You‘ve fantasised about this exact moment to happen for so long while he was stuck in his tiny body; now it‘s finally coming true.

Your lips move down from his lips to his neck, licking and tasting more at him for your own pleasure. Small gasps and moans leave his mouth while he drags your hips back and forth on his clothed cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders while the room fills with heated tension, arousal spiking from the both of you.

You let him move how he needs to, giving into his touch as you grind heavier on him. Louder groans leave him, his head tilting back. The sight of him, slightly flushed, hair messy, eyes glazed over, and panting for air, is something you commit to memory.

The friction is not enough after a while, and he rips your shorts off, hastily slipping his cock out to slip into you. With careful movements, Dick finally nestled inside of you and groans loudly once he bottoms out. Having you on his lap, all pretty and warm, is the one thing he has been craving for these past few weeks.

Once you are settled to the full feeling, you start to grind on him at first. Your clit rubs against his pelvis, making your body jerk lightly. Stilling for a moment to catch your breath, he helps you to ride him properly. As you hold onto his shoulders, you start to go up and down his length in a slow pace, just like you did when he was stuck as a fairy.

He groans painfully and nuzzles forward into your neck, bucking his hips up into you in need. You take the sign and pick up your pace, your breath picking up into short gasps.

It gets too much for you, clenching down harder and harder until you release on top of him, cunt spasming violently around him. More groans and whimpers fill the room as Dick also nears his high, unable to hold on much longer and finishes inside, loading his hot cum deep inside. After a few final thrusts, you both slump into each other and catch a moment to yourself.

His big arms wrap tightly around your tired form, whispering sweet nothings to you.

He couldn‘t even get to his revenge, too tired after the real thing and also too shy to ask if you‘d be down for him to keep going. You both end up cuddled up together in your bed, snuggled up and without a care in the world.

←MASTERLIST

[asklesbianonceler]

I was tagged in a lovely photo of my cosplay on insta today 😌✨

[goryhorroor]

nosferatu (1922) nosferatu (2024)

[birdy-babe]

I like to theorize/headcanon that Stolas’ “do you know what I want?” Monologue will eventually be mirrored by Blitz. Like when he confesses or when their relationship is real and healthier.

So… I wrote a lil thing for it. Do with this what you will

The actual monologue by Stolas:

“Do you want to know what I want? I want to know what it’s like to not be alone. I want to be someone’s someone. I want to feel wanted, but like In a romantic way. Like I’m standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting ‘Harriet!don’t get on that train! It’s going to London and I cannot be without you!’ The point is I just want someone to care if I stay or go. I want someone to want me. To want to see me, to hold me, to look at me and think: ‘you’re the only one I want. I desire to hold you and talk to you, never let you feel so…’ You! Why are you here? I don’t want you here, go home please! Let me not feel so sad”

My Headcanon mirror monologue:

“Look stolas, it took a while but I… I figured out what I want. you told me what you want- to not be alone. And… god dammit I think I want that too. I think I want you to be my ‘someone’ or whatever, and in some pansy-ass romantic way not just… for fucking. Like, shit- okay, like if you were at some dumb train station, and it was raining or whatever, and you were running off to some fucking placed called ‘Log-bog’-“

“London, my dear”

“Whatever- I’d… fuck Stolas. I’d tell you to stay. Maybe not at first. First I’d probably yell at you because I’m a mess and I don’t know how to handle my own emotions. And then I’d call you shitty names, really shitty ones that I don’t actually mean, all because I know you deserve better than me. So It wouldn’t be like your shitty rom-coms. But fuck it- the ending would be the same? I’d tell you not to go. Because fuck- I don’t really want to be without you”

“Blitz I-”

“No- don’t Interrupt- if you interrupt then I’ll start thinking about what all this means and I’ll change my mind and jump out your window or kill myself or something-“

“Go on”

“Fuck it- Stolas… you’re the only one I want. Okay? You make me want to do some gay shit like hold you- and I actually fucking like talking to you. So I want that- I want to talk to you. I never want to let you feel like that again. I was a coward at that stupid fucking party. I should have said it back then, but I hated myself for making you feel so sad. But fuck it- that’s why I’m here now. If you want me to be. I want you, Stolas”

[orion-archives]

MegaSound Week - 2024

Day 7: Free!

"So, what do you think?"

Soundwave, who has finishing adjusting the black cloth —that worked as what here on Earth would be a tank top— with 'System of a Down' written on it with white in his chest, looked up at the owner of that deep, raspy voice he loved to hear so much. Behind his visor, Soundwave's eyes widened in surprise.

Megatron was hovering over the smaller mech. The warlord had black and red face paint on him, lines the color of blood tracing his markings and a dark shadow masking the top of his face. Megatron still held the palette —probably stolen from Knockout— in one of his claws, the other with the used brush on it. He wore a similar piece of clothing to Soundwave, except his said 'SOAD' with red letters.

The warlord also had a thin crest that resembled the one he used to wear back at Cybertron, not as fluffy or big as the original but similar enough to give Soundwave a pang of nostalgia.

"Do I look handsome to you, Soundwave?" Megatron said with a teasing voice.

Soundwave let out a mute chuckle and caressed his conjunx's chin. He would always look perfect in his eyes.

"You are flattering me as always, Soundwave," purred Megatron, enjoying his conjunx's touch. He laid down the palette and brush before wrapping his arm around Soundwave and start walking. "Come on! We are gonna be late and I'm not missing my favorite band!"

Sooo... this one was supposed to be attached to a a full fanfic but I wasn't able to finish it on time. Oops–

Have them kissing mid concert:

[skippingthroughfields]

one thing that's missing from these convos about amc not submitting assad zaman for a golden globes nom that makes it 10x more malicious on amc's part is that a nomination isn't just like oh... ~simple appreciation for an actor's performance. even if there's no win, it results in a profile boost for these actors & them being able to command a higher salary when it comes to future projects. it's something that gets notice on their CV. these studios and networks love being able to market their shit with things like "starring golden globe nominee john doe" or "emmy winner jane doe." the emmys are more prestigious than the golden globes which are more prestigious than the critics choice awards (the one they submitted him for with two other actors lol). actors get nominated and have the opportunity to get attention from social media posts, article mentions, attending the red carpet, having their name announced and a little clip of their acting shown. that's not nothing! attention from possible new fans, publications, execs, peers, producers, directors, fashion houses & other industries which could lead to $$$ and sponsorships. I won't make any presumptions about the cast's finances but I do know amc is probably not paying them their worth, least of all the bangladeshi muslim who barely had any major roles in tv/film prior to the show.

there are fees and costs associated with submitting for awards consideration and FYC ads. the network basically took a look at assad's brown skin and name and said they don't think he's worth the money over the white actor who had less screentime and narrative importance (to the season ig) which is absolutely crazy lmao. it shouldn't be controversial to say that and you can't not discuss this without bringing up sam's name. this has nothing to do with whether he "deserved" to be submitted (and even if I said he doesn't deserve it over assad who's gonna beat my ass?). this white man isn't being persecuted by conversations about blatant racism. but I'd expect nothing less from this fanbase x.

[zhouxiangs]

I know what you're gonna say, but you don't have to. I know. Even when your dad and mom say something, you don't listen. But I'm really worried about you. I'd like you to be my lovely same old little brother. If there's nothing else, you should go back to you room. You've changed, Ming. You've never been like this.

MY STAND-IN (2024) | Episode 7

[bb-bugspot]

The (My) NorthStar [Part 1]

(This was made with a few brainstorming ideas I had with @mas-away , go follow them right now and check their art!!)

After Hermes helped Odysseus leave the island of Calypso, and their talk while he was on his raft, he had gathered a bit of wood that he didn’t need and had decided to carve a little NorthStar of the size of his palm.

It was far from being as perfect as he wanted, but there wasn’t much he could do when being in the middle of the sea while trying to escape Poseidon and also keeping an eye out for possible dangers.

By the time he was done, it was already the second day being in the sea and knew that Hermes would visit later to bring him some food, something good he hopes, he’s been missing Ithaca’s dishes but he would soon be able to have them again.

After waiting for what felt hours upon hours, Hermes finally made his appearance with his characteristic giggle, swooping down and picking him up by the armpits and flying up in the air before going back down to let him back in solid surface.

“Hello there, my dear great-grandson.” The god chirped, watching as the mortal man regained his bearings before looking up at him.

“Hey, Hermes. Here for our daily talk?” He asks with a laugh as he sits down, making sure that his gift is hidden beneath his blanket, thanking to Athena that Hermes had been kind enough to give him one to cover himself in the cold nights.

“Why, but of course! I would never miss them, plus, I have to enjoy our time together before I let you continue your journey.” Hermes mused as he floated above the raft before setting his feet down, sitting cross-legged and making a show with his hands, more for the fun of it than anything, and making some food appear.

“And to feed you. I wouldn’t forget about such an important thing, as much as you’re ruthless, you’re still a mortal and feel hunger.” The dish that had appeared in his hands was none other than an Ithacan dish: Cuttlefish with rice.

Odysseus looked at the dish and swallowed a lump that suddenly formed in his throat, too focused on the food to even see the sympathetic look Hermes was giving him.

The mortal took a breath before rising the fork and taking a bite from the food, chewing, and swallowing before continuing to eat in silence; both him and Hermes stayed quiet about the tears that rolled down his cheek the moment he took the first bite.

After finishing that, keeping the bowl away and taking a moment to calm down, Odysseus sighed and looked at Hermes, who was whistling quietly while poking at a winnion that was in his lap. No doubt, Aeolus would want an update on the winds that were, ahem, borrowed from them, even if that wasn’t the word they would use for their bag being taken by the god of thieves.

Anything to help his family, anyways, so Hermes didn’t really feel guilty about it.

“Hermes.” Odysseus spoke, making the god look up and grin at him, the tooth gap clear and reminding Odysseus of his own when he was younger.

“What’s up, Ody?” He hummed, continuing to poke the winnion before deciding to let it take a small nap in his hands, little enough to fit in them and look almost like a ball of wool rather than a divine creature of the skies.

“I got something for you, like a gift, for so to say.” The mortal commented, although a bit bashful, clearly embarrassed, although by what? Hermes wasn’t sure, there weren’t many things he could be embarrassed about in the middle of nowhere, more so if he was gifting him something.

Which was another thing, what could he possibly gift the god, when not having really anything other than his sword, Athena’s brooch, the wind bag and now a bowl of Ithaca, to which Hermes was sure wouldn’t really survive in his journey.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the mortal handed him a carved figure, well, not any carved figure, but one of the NorthStar. It was big, although not as big as his own palm but close enough. The rubbed the wood and felt a little something behind, turning it around to see a few words carved on it.

My NorthStar.

The god was at loss of words, looking up at him and back down to the carved star for several times before croaking out: “What is this?”

Odysseus rubbed the back of his head, suddenly feeling very self-conscious and interested in the water. “Well- You said to follow the NorthStar, and, well, back at Circe’s island you also guided me to the right path and helped me save my man, even if that..well, you know.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head and looking back at him with a small huff, tapping his fingers against his thighs in a nervous movement.

“So? Do you like it? It took me quite a while, mostly to carve out the words.” He added with pursed lips.

Hermes stared at him, dumbfounded before his face broke into a grin, a joyus laugh leaving his lips as he threw himself at Odysseus, the man letting out a startled shout as he was suddenly shoved against the raft to then be pulled into the air, twirled around in his great-grandparent’s arms as if he was one of the winnions.

Which reminded him that the poor thing had been sent flying the moment Hermes had made his happiness clear by being loud and quick on his feet.

“Like it? Oh, I love it, Ody! You did such a good job! Surprising, given your current circumstances but nonetheless, I’m very proud of you.” He commented with a giggle, putting him back down on the raft before lifting himself in the air.

“Well, I gotta go now! I must show everyone this little trinket, I’m sure Athena will be jealous!” He cackled before disappearing in a speck of shiny, little sparks around the purple-blue colored powder he left behind him.

Odysseus was, to say the least, baffled for a few seconds before laughing, shaking his head with a sigh as he laid down on his back. Soon enough he would be back home, to his wife and his son, and, hopefully, he could get to talk to Hermes more often too. He was not only part of his family by blood now, no, he was part of his family in his heart and mind too.

[autumnrory]

lorelai and luke + pieces of each other (insp.)

- rachel's sweatshirt - william's hardware - max's daisy - the huppah - lorelai's heel - luke's truck - liz's earrings - the dragonfly inn - liz's matching necklace - the horoscope - william's boat - luke's flannel shirt - lorelai's dollhouse - luke's spatula - the character reference - liz's necklace 2.0

[wesstars]

can't rely on my heart

wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: are people more likely to tell the truth while they’re drunk? wc: 800 tags: all characters involved are 18+. AU, they’re in some big city. wednesday and reader are childhood ‘friends.’ unresolved tension!!! a/n: i miss y’all 😭hope everyone is doing well!! welcome to another wednesday wednesday with the most amazing @evilwednesday. special good morning to @mindyswhore. @melrodrigo told me to hurry up haha. (let’s just ignore how I missed last week okay)

masterlist

1:28 am

come get your bitch.

Wednesday frowned at Yoko’s text. She wondered, briefly, who “your bitch” could ever be—unbidden, your grinning face came to mind, shining bright as a dying star. Wednesday hated it. It was stuff like this, knowing that your friends would ask Wednesday, of all people, to come pick you up, that was intolerable. Always popular yet with a genuine charm, you commanded attention wherever you were, so warm and dazzling that you eclipsed everything around you. You consistently crossed the line with Wednesday, since you really never knew when to stop. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her car keys.

***

You were giggling. It was insufferable: it had already been enough to go to the bar—a place with sticky floors that Wednesday turned her nose up at—and it was excruciating to have dragged you out, catching you from rolling your ankle on the pavement, so your glittering laugh really was the worst torture Wednesday was willing to endure. Yoko had pushed you unceremoniously into Wednesday, while Enid sent her a sympathetic glance and a promise to text. Wednesday was torn between keeping her distance, so you wouldn’t throw up on her shoes, and holding you upright so you wouldn’t cause a scene, but you made her decision for her.

“You’re so—sloppy,” Wednesday hissed, grabbing your elbow to stop you from careening into a pedestrian. You’d always been a lightweight, since your university days, where you’d always show up, drunk as a dog, knocking at Wednesday and Enid’s place. You would claim that you lost your address. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be over there at all, every little quirk you had being memorized by the apartment: your mug, your spare key, your book on how the biggest planets are made of the very same things that humans are. 

“Wednesday,” you said, leaning on her shoulder. She wrinkled her nose. “Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday… 

She scoffed. “Just be quiet.”

“I don’t want to,” you whined, being the absolute child that Wednesday thought you were. She let go of your arm, stalking towards her car without you. While she definitely thought of you as someone she could do without babysitting, she still looked back to make sure you were following. You were tracing your crooked path on the sidewalk, scuffing your shoes as you trailed your fingers on every streetlight and sign pole that you passed. Something licked its way through Wednesday’s veins, destructive like fire.

“You…” Wednesday ignored you. Why had she parked so far? The sooner you crashed on her couch, the sooner you’d leave her alone. 

“You, with that beautiful smile—” gods, just how many drinks did you have?—“Hold on.” 

“I don’t smile.” Wednesday waited, for some reason, as you stumbled forward, catching up to her while the drinks caught up to you.

Ignoring her, you whispered, “I have something to say to you,” showing all your teeth in a dopey smile. When you leaned in, Wednesday saw how the shine of the streetlights caught on your rosy cheeks, glowing.

“You’re even prettier when you’re all the way here, with me, not just in my head.”

Wednesday felt her dead, still heart jolt with an artificial electricity, as if you’d pressed both hands to her chest and yelled clear! It was a startlingly alive experience, being touched by such a startlingly alive person. Every breath was hard to take, as you looked down. The streetlight cast a warm glow, lighting up your outline. You smelled too much like alcohol for such an admission, one where she could feel the cold metal of your arrow, Apollo ablaze, press up against her ribs.

It was weird, how one never really does know the answer to an unspoken question until it was right in front of them, burning. 

“You’re not going to remember this,” Wednesday said quietly. “I’m telling you now, so you can understand why.” She looked into your eyes; they were surprisingly clear for someone so inebriated. 

Your voice was a whisper, nearly drowned out by a car rushing past. “Why what?”

Wednesday looked up at you. You’d stopped right in front of her car, an accuracy unbecoming of how drunk you seemed to be. She placed a hand on you, your shoulder this time, and yanked you down to her height. You were so close, now, your nose brushing hers, and she felt you take a breath. “Why I don’t mind you being this close.” She hoped you could smell the jasmine perfume she wore. “Why I don’t mind when you cross the line.” Your hair fell into your eyes. “Why I’m driving you home.”

She stepped back, opening the car door and shoving you in. You leaned your temple on the seat, head tilted back to meet her eyes.

“I know, Wednesday.”

--

a/n cont'd: something something yearning something something

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The shrub angst is real 😔