#pre-wednesday

[hislittleraincloud]

I think it’s because she butchered her hair at the beginning of 2023 and it hasn’t grown back to how it fully looked when she shot s1 since

Also the nose thing - might just be different contour or the way her nose is angled in the videos they are forcing her to do for this garbage season.

Meh, I just do not like the new wig as it was in the two TikToks we've gotten. I want her tendrils back. They beautifully framed her face, but in the new Thingtok video it actually looks like she's wearing a very bad wig:

Why change it? The style is just...for the third time, it makes her look like a little kid who cut her own bangs (and as we know our Wednesday is a perfectionist and wouldn't walk around like that). They look worse from the side without the tendrils.

As for her 👃🏻, a series of Now vs. Then:

I dunno how much more y'all need to see.

[mangozic]

michael shelley I would die for you

[arachnist]

get a room guys come on

[achromatophoric]

Bianca: Why did I just see Enid ugly crying through the halls at top speed?

Wednesday: I confessed to her my feelings, as suggested by both Tanaka and yourself.

Bianca: Girl, you were supposed to confess your stupid crush, not crush her stupid. What happened?

Wednesday: I applied an analogy and equated my desire for her to the sinking of the Titanic.

Bianca: You WHAT?

Wednesday: Like the Titanic, my heart was once thought impervious, only to be brought down by the very thing it was designed to withstand.

Wednesday: And like the iceberg that was the Titanic’s ruin, Enid’s offensively bright exterior was but the tip of her magnitude.

Wednesday: Even now, I am unable to—perhaps even unworthy of—describing the sheer depths of her resplendent spirit. Her bravery, her heart, her everything.

Wednesday: Formidable as I imagined myself, I admit now that I was destined to be destroyed by her. Inevitably split asunder to sink beneath the waves of her sheer grandeur.

Bianca: Huh. That’s uh—that’s not bad. And that’s what you told her?

Wednesday: Not… in so many words.

Bianca: Addams, what exactly did you say to her?

Wednesday:

Wednesday: I said, in my most meaningful of tones…

Wednesday: *recites* I need you—

– At that same moment, in Yoko’s room. –

Enid: —like the— *wet sniffle* —the Titanic— *choked sob* —needed the iceberg!

Enid: *returns to full-on ugly crying*

Yoko: 🤦‍♀️

[wheneverfeasible]

Wiggly Wednesday?

The brain worms are here again.

I honestly hate Christmas and avoid doing too much for it. However, an idea came to me suddenly and I can’t stop thinking about…

Secret Santa Steddie AU.

In one of Steve’s high school classes senior year, they’re assigned a Secret Santa project. They all put their names in a Santa hat and have to draw one out (returning it for another if it’s their own) and that’s the person they have to secretly give a gift to, either homemade or purchased, but there’s a cap of like…whatever the equivalent of $20 today is back then. Idk.

This is supposed to be a team building type of exercise, something to foster camaraderie, after say maybe a huge argument/fight broke out between Tommy and his group and the Freak, Eddie Munson, as well as some other nerds. Steve is exhausted and doesn’t care for Tommy’s bullshittery anymore, so he didn’t really get involved, though Eddie did throw a few digs his way. Which was hurtful but probably deserved.

Anyways, Steve draws out Eddie’s name.

For the next week or so the last fifteen minutes of class are devoted to questionnaires and such where the students answer questions about themselves directly or they fill in answers to widely asked questions, all used to let the Secret Santas learn about their recipients. Some people take it more seriously than others.

Steve gets to know more about Eddie, who is more blasé about it all, obviously not expecting anyone to give him something good (if they give him anything at all) since he has no friends in the class and most people don’t like him. So Steve, who has never paid Eddie any amount of attention before in the past but has been now and finds himself intrigued, starts observing Eddie outside of class.

Steve knows he could buy Eddie something music related. An easy cop-out gift. But the more he observes Eddie, the more he gets to see the tiny cracks in the Freak persona whenever he spies on him, sees the nerdy but also kind person beneath the leather jacket. And…okay…maybe he starts to develop a sort of crush without realizing that’s what happens.

Maybe he bribes other nerds about Hellfire Club and Eddie and makes certain they don’t squeal about him asking (he doesn’t realize he comes off as threatening, he just thinks he’s being urging), maybe he hears Eddie mention things and then he goes and asks Dustin what they mean, learning it’s from a book series about midgets and some jewelry or whatever, and so an idea forms.

While shuttling the kids about after school, Steve asks Will if he’d be willing to draw something for him, which Steve would pay him for. Will, obviously excited because it’s his first commission job and Steve pays him fairly, agrees.

(Steve may also purchase a patch at the record store they stop at—Will’s request as he wants to buy something for Jonathan—because it reminds him of Eddie, but that doesn’t matter.)

Yadda yadda ya, it’s time to exchange gifts. The teacher has allowed them to drop them off leading up to the Friday before winter vacation to keep the mystery alive.

When Eddie gets his, he’s expecting something more like a prank gift. Instead, he’s gifted a colored drawing (sadly not enough time for a painting) of Eddie dressed as someone named something like Spider or Arrow Gone or whatever, Steve doesn’t really know, but it’s him fighting off a horde of monster things with a flaming eyeball in the background and further back is an erupting volcano.

Steve doesn’t know what the hell is going on, not really able to absorb the massive info dump Dustin gave him, but Will assured Steve that the dude was cool and the battle depicted was awesome and important when he dropped off his old yearbook for model reference. Will’s opinion was enough for Steve of course. He just hoped Eddie liked it, and the patch that he rolled up with the picture.

Eddie is, of course, gobsmacked and trying his hardest not to show it. He scans the classroom to try to figure out who could have given him such an amazing gift, but no one even looks at him. There’s no way he would ever suspect the truth.

Steve ended up getting a can of Farrah Fawcett spray, which everyone laughed at and assumed was a joke gift for a jock, but Steve noticed a small twitch of a smile on Tommy’s face, the only one besides Dustin now who knows his secret.

Later, Eddie’s battle vest is adorned with the patch he received in his gift, a red and black Leviathan cross, but Steve doesn’t know what happened to the drawing. He hopes it didn’t get trashed.

It’s not until later, after everything with Vecna and recovering what was salvageable from the trailer, that he found the picture safely secured behind a glass frame hidden in Eddie’s room. It’s only then that Steve realizes that he might have been a little bit in love with Eddie “the Freak” Munson all this time.

~

Aaaaaaaah sorry this is a little bit of a nebulous ending here. Does this story follow canon and Eddie is dead, never knowing who his Secret Santa is? Or is Eddie recovering from his injuries, fated to recognize Will’s art style and thus learning the truth behind one of his most prized possessions? Who’s to say 🤷

I’m just gonna tag my perma list because I’m lazy. Anyone can be happy to consider this a tag for their own future brain worms tho!

Hostage Hotties:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife

@everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

[fuctacles]

wiggly wormy wednesday

Thanks @formosusiniquis for tagging me!!! Here's a thing inspired by that one fanart of Eddie in that one t-shirt that I can't find now

Steve works during the summer as a pool boy. 

It's a good ego boost as he's been in high demand among the housewives in the area. His schedule is full, to the point he has to start declining some offers to have time for himself. When his phone rings with another job offer, he doesn't reject it right away because he's startled to hear a man's voice for a change. Then he hears he'll double the salary and he agrees. 

The address he jotted down leads him to the oldest mansion in town, dark and looming over the neighborhood. He understands the raise in money now and is glad that he told Robin where he'll be. 

The gate is open, so he pushes his way through the artfully neglected garden towards the door, where a note is waiting for him.

You'll find cleaning tools in the shed. Knock on the back door when you're done.

Steve knew of eccentric old people but this one was slowly taking the cake. He rounds the estate to find the pool behind it, and the cake is pulled out of his grip. Who in their right mind paints the pool red? 

By the state it's in, it probably hasn't been used in weeks. The surface is fully covered in leaves and twigs, and the tiles around it are covered in grime. It's a wild 180 after being called to clean pools just so he can hand out sodas and towels to a group of old ladies, but he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work.

Every now and then, he looks up from his work, expecting to find someone ogling him, but he never finds anyone. It's a weird thing to consider a constant of his job, but he came to expect it. Double-checking that he's really alone, he starts humming to himself to make the time go faster. If he's ever called here again, he might take a radio or a walkman with him. 

He's done surprisingly fast, with the sun still high when he goes to knock on the back door. His curiosity is through the roof to see what kind of person his employer is. 

He hears a click by his feet and when he looks down, he realizes the cat door has spat out an envelope. Inside he finds his payment and a note. 

Will double it if you come at 5pm next week

So Steve does, not worried much because the sun is still up, even if it casts ominous shadows around the mansion. 

In one of these dark corners, he spots a lawn chair, the shade doubled with a huge umbrella over it. He wonders if this time, some rich lady is going to join him. Or, the tiny bi-curious bone in his body supplies, the guy who hired him. For the time being, he focuses on his task. 

It's so dark, that he almost misses it. But when he does a double take as he's swiping the poolside, he yells. 

On the chair in the double shade, wearing all black, a huge straw hat, and sunglasses, sits a figure. Steve's eyes are confused as to why they're seeing a black-and-white picture in the middle of his technicolor world. 

The figure raises its hand, making its features more distinguishable. 

"Sorry!" says a voice Steve vaguely recognizes from the phone call. "Don't mind me, just getting my money's worth!" The man grins, sharp and bright, and relaxes against the chair with intent to stay, a glass of wine held in his hand.

Steve considers him for all of two seconds, before grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt. Fuck it. This is what half of the job is about anyway.

The fabric hits the ground, and he gets a surprisingly goofy whoop of approval. 

tagging if u wanna join: @stevesjockstrap @yesdangerpls @stevieharringtonwifeguy @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly @adverbally

[breawycker]

Wednesday: You know. I loathe the feeling of solving a mystery because while I have used my astounding intellect and detective skills to solve a case once and for all, I'm always never sure what do with myself after.

Enid: You wanna go make out?

Wednesday: That... Is acceptable.

[jeridandridge]

Stained Glass Window

Young!Larissa Weems x fem!Reader. Pre Wednesday. My first attempt with these characters, please be kind.

In the late days of summer you drive your old blue pick up truck through Jericho with your hand out the window, the cool evening air dancing against your fingers. Driving towards the trail you discovered a couple weeks prior, you hum along with the radio making a mental note of the shops and cafes, everything so new to you.

Having lived with your mother your entire life, moving in with your father while you transferred to a college near by was another thing to adjust to. In the meantime you could retreat to the comfort and solitude of nature to unwind with your sketch book and inks. Driving down a winding dirt path underneath the lush green trees you park the rusty truck hopping out with your backpack slung over your shoulder hoping to find a peaceful spot for inspiration to strike.

Sneakers carrying you over soft dirt and twigs you find yourself alone in the trees, the dusk casting the area in a warm glow while the smell of a fire near by hits your nose. You don’t know where you’re going, but continuing down the path you stop in your tracks when you see a gorgeous building. Eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas you take in the sight of the gothic building, something beautiful and a little frightening, like it was right out of Bram stokers’ Dracula. Spotting a moss covered log, you slide the backpack from your shoulder eagerly rifling through the messy thing for your sketch book and the pens you carried everywhere.

Sat with the sketchbook in your lap and a pen between your fingers you glide the ink across the page noting every shade of grey, every withered brick, and every window in your memory completely blown away by the gem hidden away in the woods. Almost castle like, you wondered what it was. Perhaps it was a monastery or convent, or something else all together hoping that somehow you could get inside to admire the beauty. Moving your hand along the page you switch to another pen, this time adding thick lines and details to the building and the nature surrounding it.

Once your ink work was finished and you were satisfied with the result, you smile to yourself as you pack your tools away, looking around to see which way could lead you to an entrance. Moving around its brick walls you stop at a large rod iron gate, the name Nevermore Academy and its Ravens sit in the material blending in with its surroundings. As you reach out to touch the gate, twigs crunch and a car horn sounds behind you sending you bolting off to the side.

“Morticia you could have hit her!” A soft voice rings out, the passenger side door of the sleek, black car out of a black and white movie opens revealing long legs and ruby painted lips.

“She shouldn’t be out here.” The other voice huffs.

Taken aback by the woman looking at you, you’re frozen for a moment not able to answer the question hitting your ears.

“Oh my you’re a pretty thing,” the driver gets out, long black hair cascading down her back.

Shaking yourself out of it you nod to the driver and turn your attention back to the woman on the other side of the car. “Sorry, I just came across this place and got lost in the beauty.”

“Not your fault that my companion here doesn’t abide by the traffic laws.” The taller woman shoots the other a look.

Still in awe of the statuesque beauty across from you, you slyly eye her up and down noting her nice clothes and her hands. You have to snap yourself out of it before your thoughts and eyes lingered too long.

“The pretty thing doesn’t speak much.” The brunette crosses her arms, chin held high. “Not used to seeing outcasts much?”

Getting ahold of yourself you come back with a witty response, and the truth. “I don’t know what you mean by that but no, your friend has my attention is all.” You glance at the woman, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips when you see ivory cheeks dusted in a shade of pink as she looks away.

The brunette scoffs getting back in the drivers seat, engine purring as the car glides down the path without one of its previous occupants.

“Did she really just do that?” You quirk a brow in disbelief.

“Yes,” the woman signs softly, “Morticias never liked people ignoring her. Especially normies.”

You chuckle keeping the strap of your backpack between your fingers meeting the woman’s blue eyes.

“Outcasts and normies. Sounds like a weird version of West Side Story.”

The woman with silver hair steps a little closer, eyeing you suspiciously. “You truly don’t know what Nevermore Academy is?”

Shaking your head you shrug. “I just moved here not even a month ago, I had no idea this place was here. Found it with luck.”

“Found it with luck.” The woman hums giving you a soft smile.

Holding your hand out, you offer your name in a friendly greeting feeling warm and fuzzy when the other woman shakes your hand.

“Larissa. Larissa Weems.”

“Well Larissa, may I walk you up to the school?” You ask nodding to the gate.

“I’d like that.”

That was almost three months ago. In the late weeks of October you drive through the town, two cups of coffee in the cup holder as you head for Nevermore Academy. When you see the Ravens in all their glory, you pull off to the side waiting for Larissa. Moving your backpack on the floor out of the way with your sketchbook in your lap you smile when you hear leaves crunching and that soft voice you’ve grown very fond of in person and over the phone.

“Room for one more?” That beautiful smile appears, Larissa opening the passenger side door.

“There’s always room for you,” you beam handing the coffee over to her. Taking a sip from your own cup you have to hide the flush in your cheeks when you hear her let out a delighted sigh.

“I needed this.” She tips her head back into the seat.

The wind outside the truck picks up, the smell of the now dying leaves wafting through the cool air.

“What’s going on?” You ask softly, hand moving to rest on hers.

Larissa smiles at the action. “It’s been a rough month is all. With graduation in the spring, the headmaster is already giving me references and letters for future employers, but.” She sighs. “I don’t think I want to go teach or counsel anywhere else. Nevermore is my home, has been since I was a teenager.”

“I know this place is important to you, but why not go somewhere else, even for a little while?” You shrug. At this Larissa goes quiet, not willing to look at you at the moment while the gears turn in her head.

“Hey, forget I asked okay?” You say softly, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” You assure her squeezing her hand.

“Thank you, darling.”

Smiling with her bottom lip between her teeth she reaches over plucking the sketchbook from your lap, the soft worn leather between her fingers as she opens it up.

“Hey cmon,” you laugh not really trying to take it back. “Okay, Weems. I can’t be held responsible for what you see in there.”

“Is that right?” She hums flicking through the pages, glancing at you with a playful glint in her eye. long fingers carefully run over the pages, admiring all the work of the ink seeped into its pages. The library in all its two hundred year old glory, the old movie theater that opens for the holiday season, Nevermore, then she stops only when she sees a portrait.

“And there it is.” You tease trying to gauge her reaction to the portrait you’d done not long ago. Realizing early on in your friendship you had a crush on Larissa didn’t come as a surprise to you, she was smart, witty, top of her class, and not to mention beautiful. You’d even told your father of your new friendship, receiving encouragement despite Larissa being an outcast.

“You drew me?” She asks in awe, looking at the page.

She’d worn her hair down in soft waves once shortly after you’d met her, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to run your fingers through silky locks. While your sketchbook was filled with architecture, it’s what you’re going to school for after all, other things sometimes made their way to the pages.

“I try to capture everything I find beautiful.” You say without apprehension, your voice sure and firm in what youre saying as you lean over a little closer.

“You truly think so,” she hums more as a fact than a question. Icy eyes search yours looking for any bit of fake sincerity but it never comes. The sketch book is put on the seat between you two as a pale hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin.

Crimson lips meet yours in a soft kiss, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. The smell and taste of coffee over takes your senses and you practically melt against her. Wrapping your arm around her waist you pull her closer, most definitely warming up on this cold autumn day.

From that day on you would go see Larissa at Nevermore or meet her in town after you were done with classes for the day. As your feelings blossomed into something more, you felt protective over her when you were in town. Strolling down the street one evening arms looped together you two were in your own little world, giggling and minding your business when you heard a group of grown men scoff and start to bother you as they sat outside a business.

“They let these kids do anything now a days. Those freaks should be locked up in that school.”

Larissa’s jaw clenches as she continues to walk but you, you’ve never been one to take shit from anybody. Pulling away from her you turn around on your heel putting your hands in your pockets with a grin that could only be described as wicked.

“Hey fellas, if you feel like being prejudice pricks feel free to hitch a ride back to the dark ages, k?”

The men on the bench shut up as you turn back to Larissa not giving them a second to say anything more. Arms looped together once more you keep your chin up and smile at your date.

“You didn’t have to do that, darling.”

“I’m not having gross old men ruin our date, Larissa.” You shake your head moving to wrap your arm around her waist.

“But they’re not wrong. Being a shape shifter is certainly freakish.”

Shape shifting. It’d taken months for her to tell you what her abilities were. She had never shared and you never pestered, never wanting to cross a boundary with her. She looked nervous, almost as if you’d act just like those men.

“Shape shifting huh?” You smile, “An ability like that must be just a bonus when you’re already so gorgeous.”

Larissa rolls her eyes reaching for your hand. “You are incredibly wonderful and ridiculous.”

“Thanks, honey.” You tease not wanting the moment to be too serious. “I really, really like you Larissa.”

“Does that mean if I asked you to accompany me to the yearly Nevermore dance you would?” She beams, her eyes crinkling.

Bringing her gloved hand to your lips you kiss her knuckles shivering from not only the chilly air but giddy excitement. “What’s the dress code?”

Larissa chuckles moving to wrap her arm around your shoulders. “This will be very exciting. Wear whatever you want, darling. It’s not strictly fancy attire, but most dress up.”

“I can do that.” You nod with a smile. “Now, back to business. Let’s pick some books out.”

Walking through town with Larissa made you walk a little taller, hold your chin up higher, and you were starting to realize you never wanted to lose that feeling. Not long later in the independent bookstore, you smile gliding your fingers across the book spines as you admire Larissa. You didn’t know what to call her really. You two could be considered a couple, and that sounded quite nice.

Finding a nice stack of books between the two of you, you jog ahead out the door to your truck opening her door for her. When Larissa gives you a beaming smile and a kiss to your cheek before climbing in. During the drive back to Nevermore Larissa’s hand stays on your thigh, her thumb rubbing the fabric of your jeans.

“So, my dad’s been asking about you,” you hum keeping your eyes on the dirt path, “he keeps saying ‘when am I gonna meet that girlfriend of yours?’ and I honestly haven’t felt like correcting him.”

The silver screen beauty looks over, the darkness of the truck and the woods not helping you see her expression clearly. Thinking you’d messed up, you open your mouth to speak but you’re cut off before you can say a word.

“Pull over.” Larissa instructs. Her voice is cool and even, not really helping what to think of the situation.

Stopping in the center of the path you put the gear shift near the wheel in park and hit the light on the ceiling. The light gives Larissa an orange glow, her eyes not giving you any hint of what she’s feeling.

“I’m sorry, honey I-“ you’re once again cut off, this time by soft lips in a feverish kiss that has your head spinning while your fingers flow through silver locks. Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip which you happily follow suit deepening the kiss. The taste of the hot chocolate you both had earlier still lingers, the sweetness somehow making the moment all the better.

Larissa breaks the kiss first not pulling back very far as she catches her breath in the still air of the truck. “Don’t apologize, darling. I’d been wondering if you were going to ask me. I’d thought maybe you wouldn’t want to after this evening.”

Shaking your head with a chuckle you loosely wrap your arms around her neck, lips meeting hers again in a soft kiss, staying in your own little part of the world for a little while longer.

When the night of the dance approaches, you stand in front of the mirror doing a once over of your black pantsuit and heels. Gold rings on your fingers you fluff your hair once more deciding you were happy with the ensemble. Your nerves got worse as you drove towards the academy, hoping Larissa liked what you wore and the single white rose you’d bought for her.

Pulling up to the school gate you take a breath realizing you’ll be actually going into the school this time, not just up to its corridors like you had to walk Larissa in months before. Parking your truck you look at the academy lit up, students out and about in fine attire. “You got this,” you hum to yourself. Getting out you carry the single white rose in between your fingers following a group of younger students. Going into the building you don’t make it far when you feel a hand on your arm.

“Darling,” Larissa’s red lips curl into a smile as she pulls you to the side, her fingers already playing with yours.

“Hi, babe. You look gorgeous.” You eye her up and down with a smile holding the flower out between you two, slender fingers taking the stem.

Larissa’s eyes flick down to the flower, her lips finding your cheek for a light kiss. “I don’t want my lipstick to stain you.” She chuckles lifting her hand to wipe the mark away.

“Oh come on, mark your territory.” You tease with a smirk, the sound of the other students and music around you drowning out as you and Larissa stand in your little corner, blue eyes shining at you.

“Perhaps I will. How about a dance first?”

Holding your hand out, you take Larissa’s in yours gently squeezing and enjoying the warmth. Weaving through the crowd of people dancing and talking you move with the beat of the song the band is playing, hips swaying until Larissa’s hands find their place sending a jolt through you.

Moving closer you loosely wrap your arms around her neck creating yet another comfortable bubble, just you two, the only people in the world. Looking at your girlfriend with a dreamy expression you tip your chin up meeting her eyes. You’re not sure how long you two dance, but eventually, you want to be alone with her.

“As nice as this is, there are too many teenage hormones around.” You nod to the door.

“Nineteen is still a teenager last time I checked, darling.” Larissa chuckles patting your hip. “Come, let’s get some air.”

Letting Larissa stand behind you guiding you to the doorway you rest your hands on top of hers shooting Morticia a wicked smile on the way out. The silver haired beauty catches the look, hiding her smirk as she leads you outside, jogging in the light rain to a secluded corridor of the courtyard. The cold rain is unforgiving as you two take shelter under the old stone, wrapped in each others arms.

“Now you’ve gotten me alone, what do you plan to do?” Larissa teases leaning down, lips only inches apart.

Arms wrapped around her frame you move up on your toes meeting red lips in a tender kiss. Warm hands cup your cheeks making your head tip back, turning you into putty in Larissa’s hands. Sighing into the kiss your hands glide up her back pulling her flush against you. The damp air doesn’t make you shiver, the warmth from Larissa engulfing you. Pulling back only slightly you admire icy blue eyes and kiss swollen lips.

“I think I took most of your lipstick.” You grin.

Larissa chuckles bringing her hand up, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I suppose I’ve claimed my territory.” She smiles repeating your words back from before. “Darling, I-“

Before she can say anything else, your brows knit together and your hands pat her hip as you hear grunts and clashing metal. “What the hell?” You ask moving out into the rain, a body falling to the ground as you do so making Larissa scream.

“Shit!” You jump back, wrapping your arm around your girlfriend. The body lays flat in the dirt, looking up you see a man holding a sword. “Larissa, come on.” You urge, tugging her hand.

Going through the closest corridor you end up in an empty hallway stopping for a moment to take a breath.

“I know that boy. Gomez, he and Morticia are an item.” She says quietly, almost irritated.

“Shocking, the entitled ego maniac is involved with a murder.” You hum thinking about the brunette. “Are you okay, honey?” You ask resting your hand atop hers.

“Yes, I’m fine, darling.” She sighs holding your hands. “Let us go back to the dance, I’m sure everyone will be alerted soon.”

Nodding you walk through the empty hall hand in hand, your heart thudding in your chest. You knew what this could mean for the school, how the small town will react to this news. You’re a ways away from the court yard, almost to the front of the school when you see flashing lights across the wooded area.

“You two!” A deep voice booms, footsteps coming towards you.

Looking down the hall you sigh spotting two police officers. Standing tall you hold Larissa’s hand gently squeezing. One officer is a small, stout man, the other tall and lean, although shorter than Larissa.

“You two, been in the courtyard tonight?” The tall one demands.

“My girlfriend was showing me around the school, we didn’t actually see what happened. Just- just the body.” You explain, the officers looking between you two.

“You,” the small officer points, “you’re not a student here.” He states taking out a pen and his notepad.

“She goes to school in town, the college.”

Larissa informs them.

“What’s a kid like you doing at this school? You can see this is dangerous.”The taller officer scolds.

“I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself thanks.” You all but scoff, tired of the insinuation that Nevermore students are dangerous. Sure, you were shaken by what you’d seen, but that didn’t change your mind about anything.

The officers look between you two, Larissa squeezing your hand once more. Fingers laced together you rub your thumb over the back of her hand not backing down.

“The school is on lockdown, you, you’ll have to leave like all the other guests, and you.” He looks up at Larissa, “we have more questions for you.”

Larissa looks at you giving you a tight smile of reassurance. “Go on, darling. I’ll be all right.”

Glancing at the cops for a second you sigh leaning up to kiss your girlfriend’s cheek. “Call me when you get back to your dorm, please.” You ask, the beauty nodding in response.

You don’t want to leave Larissa, but soon you find yourself shuffling out of the doors to the front of the school, fingers playing with the keyring in your pocket as you walk in the dark to your truck. Losing yourself in your thoughts, when you pull into your driveway you don’t remember driving home.

“Kid!” Your dad comes running to the driveway, pulling you into a hug as soon as you step out of the truck. “It’s all over the news some kid got killed at the school, I was worried.” He cradles the back of your head with his hand.

“I’m fine, dad. I think it was a crime of passion situation.” You shrug patting his shoulder, heading into the house.

“I don’t think I want you going there anymore.”

Hearing the words you knew would come, you sigh slipping your heels off as you step inside the house. The lights are dim, there’s a beer on the table, and the tv is turned to the news channel. Stepping closer to the tv set you see a reporter then Larissa in the background talking to the cops from before. Watching the screen, you sigh knowing you’re in for a heated discussion while you wait for Larissa to call.

“Dad,” you sigh plopping down on the couch, legs crossed. “I refuse to turn into these hateful people that say horrible things about that academy.” You start, “Did you know Larissa is already being asked to take over when the headmaster retires? She’s the same age as I am. She has a degree already. Just because those people are a little different genetically doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” You huff.

Still standing by the door, your dad stands with his hands on his hips shaking his head. “I don’t like it. Not one bit. I don’t want you around those people.” He points.

Standing up, before you can argue the phone in the kitchen rings. Bolting to the device, you pull it off the hook bringing it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Darling,” Larissa lets out in relief.

“What’s going on over there?” You ask tucking by the wall, seeing your dad sit down in front of the tv again.

“I don’t know, they carted Gomez off and Morticia is hysterical. The news reporters are not very forgiving either.”

Taking a shaky breath you nod holding onto the phone. “I know. People are already blaming all the students.”

Larissa’s end of the line goes quiet, a soft breath coming through the receiver. “Yes, I know already. I- I wanted to call and tell you that if this drives you away, I will understand.”

Her voice is so soft, broken, as it hits your ear. Seeing the school and a picture of the murdered boy on the tv screen along with your father looking at you with a stern brow, you sigh into the phone.

-

Larissa Weems knows how to run Nevermore Academy. With many years of experience with the school under her belt, not many things throw her for a loop. Homesick students, the usual pranks, she can handle. Come February when she learns Wednesday Addams, daughter of Gomez and Morticia Addams will be joining the students for the term, it makes her fumble. She has a few days to prepare and in doing so she hopes Wednesday is a better student than her mother had been.

The morning of Wednesday’s arrival is a normal one. Larissa gets up, does her usual routine of getting ready, stops at the local cafe, and enters her office at seven thirty on the dot. Her office is warm and cozy, it always has been, from the gorgeous fireplace, to the sketched portraits framed on the wall, and the pressed white rose encased on her desk.

The meeting with the Addams family goes as expected, full of snark and a feeling of irritation on both sides of the lavish desk.

“Larissa, dear. Is that a wedding band I see?” Morticia quirks a brow.

On a milky hand sits a gold band set and a pearl atop the gold, the engagement ring she loved so much.

“It is,” she smiles stating professional.

“I hadn’t heard. I had thought the students were enough for a woman like you.”

Before Larissa can respond, a light knock on the door and a head poking in catches her attention.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Larissa. I didn’t know you were in a meeting. I only wanted to drop these off.” You come in, blueprints rolled up in hand.

“Is that-“ Morticia starts,

“Long time no see.” You smile from where you stand next to Larissa’s desk, shoulders back and chin up high.

“Darling, I’ll sign off on these and bring them back to you before lunch.” Larissa smiles happily taking the papers. “These are plans for a new greenhouse, perks of being married to an architect.” She tells Gomez and Morticia.

The mustachioed man stands up, reaching over to shake your hand. “Gomez Addams, Tish and I didn’t know Larissa got married.”

You give the man a kind smile shaking his hand firmly. “We got married not long after Larissa took over here. After that dance all those years ago I knew I couldn’t let her go.” You say knowing that night went down in Jericho history. “I’ll leave you all to it.” You nod making your way across the office once more, the little girl in the chair biting back a smirk at her mother’s reaction.

Feeling Larissa’s eyes on your back as you leave you turn closing the door with a wink to your wife.

[hellhoundsprey]

"Yeah, we're doing fine... Any clue yet when you'll be back, or...?"

[goodluckbabeheffron]

WEBGOTT & hot & heavy by lucy dacus

[ofcrowsanddragons]

The First Kiss Scene That Didn't Include Any (Much?) Kissing / Rook's Demisexual Love Letter to Lucanis

Thank you for tagging me in WIP Wednesday, @basedonconjecture! Tagging @dustdeepsea, @i-had-bucky, @teyrnacousland, @thebaldursmouthgazette and @deputyrook if you have anything from fic to meta that you'd like to share.

This is a MUCH later snippet of my Rookanis fic, A Working Relationship, which jumps to the point where a young Crow Rook and an undercover "Luca" are in Minrathous and there are FEELINGS.

Thank you to @thedissonantverses for encouraging me as I worked on figuring out the dynamic between these two.

An earlier side fic, But I Won't Do That includes this bit of context:

Lucanis might have his own blindness, but he knew enough to realize that anything he could offer might not be seen as optional by the younger assassin, and the thought terrified him.

If such a thing happened, Viago could slit his throat and Lucanis would prearrange to hide the body.

Here's the first draft of the first kiss/almost kiss scene. The final version might be different, but I need to write another 20-30k words to get there. (Power dynamics, consent issues addressed, no sex).

I leaned in, placing one hand gently against the back of the chaise. I kept my weight on my feet, ready to step back if I was rebuffed. My whole body was tight with anticipation, my mind ready to pull back at the rejection I knew was coming.

Instead, Luca raised his eyes to mine.

I could drown in them, I thought. His eyes had gone dark with want, for all that he looked at me like something wounded.

He held himself rigid, like he was afraid to move. His jaw was slack, peppered with evening stubble across the warm tones of his skin, and his lips were parted just so.

Without thought, drawn to the heat of him, I reached across his other shoulder and braced my hand against the chaise. I boxed him in, tentative, and the fabric of my sleeve just barely brushed his arm.

I let my weight fall onto the chaise, and the inside of my knee brushed against his thigh. It felt like lightning, and I sucked in a breath, desperate to keep my eyes on Luca, to not be distracted by my own reactions.

He was trembling. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Luca raised a hand from where it rested on the side of the chaise. There was a barely visible shake in the fingers as his arm skirted over the velvet cushions and came to hover near my hip, like he was afraid to touch me. Taking it as a sign of his interest, I sighed out my relief even as I kept the toes of one foot on the floor, ready to pull away if he needed me to.

My back leg trembled, and I wanted nothing more than to fall into his lap. The heat from his muscular thigh on the inside of my leg was agony, and I felt weak with it.

I was afraid to touch him, too. I was afraid to push too far.

“Look at me,” I breathed, inches away from his face.

Warm, brown eyes met mine, and I marvelled at the softness of them. At the smooth planes of his face and the mole next to his hairline. At the crease between his brow and the spot next to his nose. At the creases in his bottom lip.

His tongue darted out on reflex, to wet the lips even as he prepared to push me away.

“You don't have to do this,” he said, even as his eyes fell to my lips and he tilted his face to match mine. The fear in his voice was real. “Please tell me you know that.”

The warm breath from his voice was close enough to feel against my lips, and I bit my lower lip without thinking, sweeping my tongue out to soothe the dryness I found there. My mind felt like it was full of the thick, sweet syrup used by a nearby street vendor.

“I don't know if I can stop,” I said, too honest. Not knowing what he wanted, too full of whatever I was feeling to make room for him, I tasted something like failure at the back of my mouth.

He met my eyes, and his fingers finally brushed against my hip. The lightness of it felt like a brand, striking like a viper through my nerves and into my chest. I had to slap down the instinctive rise of my magic to meet it.

I gasped, falling forward another inch as I struggled to keep my eyes on his.

Luca’s eyebrows were furrowed as he kept his touch light on my hip, his other hand clenched in the cushions. All of the tension in his body was held away from me, in his legs and core and his far arm. I didn't know what he was holding back, but I wanted to beg for it. I wanted him to pull me down and fist his hand in my hair like he was holding the cushion and I knew it was too much.

That light touch, urging me closer. I obeyed without a thought.

Luca tilted his head forward and I let my forehead meet his in a gentle touch. It felt like a cool breeze on a summer day, and I sighed into it with relief, closing my eyes.

“Any advantage you want,” he breathed in promise, “It's yours for the asking. I don't want…”

I should stop, I thought, but I was afraid of what would happen if I did. I was afraid that he would look at me afterward like a student who had tried to seduce him for safety, for power, for resources. For a chance to live.

“You've given me everything I've asked for,” I said, tilting back so that my lips almost brushed his. “Can I ask for something else?”

“Anything within my power,” he vowed, breath ghosting across my lips.

I pulled away enough to meet his eyes, feeling an overwhelming wave of my own emotion threatening to spill out of them.

His hand dropped, instantly. His expression was guarded, on the verge of the desperate triumph of being proven right.

“Believe me,” I begged, meeting his desperation with my own. “Believe me when I say that I want you.”

He searched my face, eyes flickering across my features. “Why?”

I finally stopped resisting the urge to touch, and I let my hands grasp at his shoulders. He startled, like it was a shock I would touch him this way.

The wants of my own flesh barely registered. The only thing I needed was this.

“Because you're beautiful,” I said, reaching for the meaning that meant more than his handsome face or his grace in battle. “Because the first day I met you, you started changing out our rations until everyone had something they enjoyed eating, not just me. Because you're kind when you don't have to be—because when the world tells you not to be, you'll be kinder out of spite.”

His lips twitched with a pull at the corner that was barely a smile. “Acting out of spite is hardly a virtue.”

“I don't care,” I said, leaning fully into his space, drawing both feet up so that I was kneeling on either side of his leg, a blasphemous approximation of an Andrastian chant. “Void damn it, Luca, I'm an assassin. You told me yourself that there's no virtue in what we do.”

His expression changed, slackened into something softer. “You make me wonder if it could be different,” he told me, with something like a smile rising up from his eyes.

My heart was pounding in my ears, as fast as a sparrow’s. I fought the urge to run, feeling the unfairness of doing so when I had trapped Luca so thoroughly. I forced myself to meet his eyes, even as the sensations of the man’s warm body beneath my legs and hands rose into the foreground.

I blew out a breath. “I want you. What do you want?”

Something seemed to rise in him at those words, settling over his face and pulling at his restraint, and it thrilled through me like a wave of electricity. He held fast, holding himself back, only bringing his hand back to my hip in a touch so feather light it risked driving me insane.

“I just…” Luca started, and trailed off like he didn't know what he was trying to say. The hand at my hip settled more firmly into the position he'd use to lead me in a dance. “I want—”

He cut himself off with a growl of frustration and brought his free hand to my shoulder. In one smooth movement, he threw me onto my back on the soft, velvet cushions of the chaise. I had to force myself to relax into it, and I let my arms fall, boneless, along the back and over the edge of the couch.

“Is it too much,” said Luca, kneeling between my legs, with one elbow against the back of the chaise gripping my arm, “To want you to feel like you don't have to be afraid?”

“We're dangerous people,” I said gently, tilting my chin to expose my throat. “Maybe I know what that means, and I trust you not to hurt me.”

He rolled off the chaise into a crouch on the floor. I felt the bitter disappointment at the loss of contact, but I stayed on the cushions, following his movement only with my eyes. I was exhausted, aroused, and beyond ready to retreat into my bedroom to cry into the pillows. The points of warmth on my body that Luca had touched tingled with the awareness of the loss of him. I had been expecting a rejection, but I didn't know what this was.

With too much gentleness, Luca reached from where he had settled on the floor, to hold my hand where I had allowed it to drape over the edge.

He met my eyes. “I don't want you to be afraid.”

I pulled his hand up onto the cushion, slow and telegraphed, forcing him to let go or move so that his knees were closer to the base of the chaise. He chose to move forward, and I turned onto my side. He watched carefully as I pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand, next to the meat of his thumb, and then rested my cheek against it like a pillow. I let my eyes fall shut.

His breathing was even and deliberate in the way that we’re trained to be.

I let my mind drift to the solid mountain of my dreams, where my feet were always on the ground and there was always a way forward, no matter what obstacle rose in front of me.

Frowning, still focusing on the way the imaginary light reflected from the harsh alpine trail, I told him, “I don’t know how to stop being afraid. What does it feel like, when you’re not afraid?”

The sound of wet laughter. “I’m not sure I can answer that right now.”

“Maybe,” I said, opening my eyes, “We can find out together?”

Too much hope was riding on the last word, but Luca didn’t pull away. Instead, the smile—maybe the first real, true smile I had ever seen from him—lit up his eyes in a way that took my breath away. I let what was probably a stunned smile play across my face, in turn.

“Maybe so,” he said, voice soft as he shuffled forward so that he could rest his head against mine.

I let my breathing match his, and let the time pass me by, luxuriating in the closeness of another being who I somehow, miraculously, trusted with more than my life.

[chromatophoria]

Pre-Wenclair. In the middle of the night, Wednesday helps Enid to nurse a bloody nose.

Enid: Owww. What happened?

Wednesday: You appeared to be running from something in your sleep.

Enid: But why does my face hurt so much?

Wednesday: You are injured because you shouted “Help” then bolted straight out of bed and face first into a wall.

Enid: *embarrassed whine*

Wednesday: Was it another nightmare? The Hyde chasing you again?

Enid:

Enid:

Enid: Yes.

– Enid’s dream, set in a moonlit forest. –

Enid: *running through the woods* Wednesday! Where are you?!

Wednesday’s voice: Enid, I need your help.

Enid: *skids to a stop* I’m here! What’s wrong? How can I help??

Clouds part, allowing moonlight to illuminate the seer, who stands a short distance before Enid.

Wednesday: *totally naked* All of my clothing has mysteriously vanished—

Enid: 😳

Wednesday: —and I feel an inexplicable burning need, as though there were a hungry emptiness within me that yearns to be violently filled.

Enid: 🥵

Wednesday: *pauses in thought*

Wednesday: I am also inflicted by a puzzling wetness between my thighs. See?

She glistens there. Alluring. Tantalizing. Maddening. Framed by pale thighs slick with blatant desire. Liquid heat gathers upon those delicate folds, pooling into a swollen bead that falls with an agonizing slowness.

Enid: *fucking short-circuits*

Wednesday: Enid, do you know of anyone who can help to solve—

Enid: *bolts for Wednesday* ME! ME! I CAN—

[achromatophoric]

Pre-Wenclair. One night, the roommates find themselves in a parked car with a notably empty driver’s seat, waiting awkwardly for… something.

Enid: *stares at the back of Wednesday’s head*

Wednesday: *broods in the passenger seat*

Enid: *glances again to the keys in the ignition*

Enid:

Enid: Hey, uh—Wednesday?

Wednesday: Yes, Enid?

Enid: What are we waiting for?

Wednesday: For my date, just as I stated half an hour ago.

Enid: Oh… *jealous grumpy pout*

Enid: *fusses with her snood*

Enid: So what the heck is taking them so long?

Wednesday: They are, one can only hope, in the process of getting something.

Enid: Yeah? Well— *finally snaps* —whatever it is, they should hurry up and GET IT already!

Wednesday: *turns in seat and glares* YES, ENID, THEY SHOULD.

[wheneverfeasible]

🧠 🪱 WIGGLY WEDNESDAY 🪱 🧠

Thanks for the tag @stervrucht ! Ended up writing this on my lunch and hiding in the back at work lmaoooo

Because today I’m thinking about…children’s entertainer Eddie Munson and single parent Steve Harrington…

-

This is definitely a modern au. Eddie did the whole band thing in high school, and they still get together and play in bars and occasionally at events and things, but now Eddie’s music is…different.

Like…think Johnny Karate different.

Except he’s still Eddie. He still dresses in darker clothing, still keeps the metal influence in his music, it’s just all kid appropriate nowadays. He sings songs that are inspired by DnD and fantasy novels he loved growing up, like The Hobbit and The Last Unicorn. He even has a couple children’s books out based on his songs and stories. (His buddy Jeff illustrates them.)

Now, Eddie’s biggest fan happens to be Dustin Henderson, the young friend of single parent Steve Harrington. Dustin is actually a fan of Corroded Coffin as well, which is how he learned of Eddie’s children entertainment persona, The Freak (so named to show kids it’s good to be different), who sometimes dresses up like a court jester, especially when working a kid’s birthday party, crowning the kid as king or queen or anything else their little heart desires.

Steve has two little kids, twins, a boy and a girl. Their fifth birthday is coming up and Dustin convinces Steve to hire Eddie. After much heeing and hawing, Steve finally agrees, if only because Dustin gets the kids to whine about it too, and Steve honestly can’t say no to any of kids, even the ones that are only fiveish years younger than him.

Eddie comes, dressed in his understated jester costume, and the kids absolutely adore him. He all but beams when the boy staunchly proclaims he wants to be a princess, not a prince, and the little girl decides she wants to be a goblin. But a good one. Eddie grins and tells her to watch out for enchanted crystals.

The kids then decide that if the boy is a princess, then that makes their dad the king, and Eddie grins even wider and flourishes an adult size crown for just this sort of occasion. After a lot of complaining about his hair, Steve finally agrees to wear the crown, feeling oddly flushed when Eddie gets close enough to set it on top his head.

“Don’t worry, darling, I won’t mess your hair up too badly. Not until you ask me too,” he whispers just for Steve to hear and winks, even as he quickly jumps away because rule number one is never flirt with a parent when he’s on a job. Something about the single dad is just a little too much for Eddie’s self-restraint, however. Both are blushing.

The rest of the party goes on well, he even gets most of the adults to join in on the ridiculous and repetitive titles, and maybe he showboats a little with his guitar riffs, but Steve’s eyes have barely left him the entire time, and only then when he needed to keep his eyes on the kids.

Eddie is paid and leaves, like he’s supposed to, though not without giving out his business card to some of the other attending parents who want to hire him as well for their own kids’ birthday parties. All in all, a successful night. He gives one last glance at Steve and then he’s gone.

…

Time passes, yeah? Steve can’t stop thinking about Eddie. Eddie can’t stop thinking about Steve. They both think that’s the end of it.

And then Dustin, matchmaker extraordinaire who clocked that shit immediately because Steve hasn’t looked at anyone since the kids, convinces Steve to go to a bar with him where a live band is playing.

The band?

Why, what else but Corroded Coffin.

And the lead guitarist? Well he just happens to look beautifully familiar.

-

rip fartbuckle

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

No pressure tags: @scoops-aboy86 @endlessmusings1801 @steddieassheg0es @steddiecameraroll @fkinkindagauche (if you’ve already been tagged and posted before, let me know so I can read your stuff!)

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday

Happy Wednesday! Have some more of FDB's POV! They're finally out of the tree, FDB is still carrying an injured and exhausted DFS on his back, and he is currently trying to convince DFS (who is fighting to stay conscious) to let himself rest. (You can find all previous excerpts here.)

**

Fang Duobing smiled. At last, something he could do. “Alright, a-Fei. Home it is.”

For a moment, a-Fei relaxed even more against him. 

Then a-Fei stilled, all his muscles spasmed and clenched, and he jerked his head off Fang Duobing with a pained grunt, looking all around them.

“What’s wrong?” Fang Duobing asked, suddenly terrified. “Another qi deviation? An attacker? Do you need me to put you down? Or Yangzhouman?”

The ensuing silence seemed to last forever, although it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.  

“Home,” a-Fei said, his voice so wrecked it sounded like his throat had been sliced to ribbons. “To the left.” He swallowed audibly and tried again. “Around the hill.” 

Fang Duobing wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream, cry, shake a-Fei, or hold him tightly and never let go more. “It’s alright. We’ll find the way. I promise. Just rest. Try to sleep.”

Even as a-Fei shook his head, he was slumping forward. “Not yet,” he muttered. “Not here.” 

What was wrong with here? It was just a forest—

Oh. Fang Duobing winced. A-Fei had been unconscious in a forest after being cured of Wuxin Huai when Jiao Liqiao had kidnapped him the first time. 

“A-Fei,” Fang Duobing paused, trying to figure out what might convince him. “There are no enemies here. No danger. You can stop fighting now.”

A-Fei’s hair brushed against Fang Duobing’s shoulder as he shook his head again.“—’s always danger,” he mumbled. His head fell forward and landed on Fang Duobing’s neck again. He tried and failed to lift it again, then made a sound that was far too close to a whimper. 

Fang Duobing tried to breathe through the sudden, visceral need to travel to the past and make everyone who had ever hurt a-Fei and made safety a foreign concept wish they had never been born. “If we run into any danger, I’ll protect you, alright?”

A-Fei huffed a wet attempt at a laugh into his hair and his head twitched like he was trying and failing to shake it. “–’s my job, brat.”

Fang Duobing’s heart clenched as hundreds of proclamations tried to burst out from behind his closed lips: that a-Fei was in no shape to protect anyone at the moment, that protecting each other was all of their jobs and did a-Fei really think that his protection was all he had to offer? He was a person, not a dao! That a-Fei deserved to be protected, that a-Fei was protected now, and would continue to be as long as he, Fang Duobing, drew breath, and that no one would ever be able to harm him again. 

He swallowed them all back and tried to find an approach less liable to end in disaster. “It’s my job, too, a-Fei,” he said at last. “We can take turns, just like we’ve taken turns looking after Xiaohua’er. You already protected me, by helping with my qinggong. So now it’s my turn for a bit, alright?” He held his breath, hoping his words would convince a-Fei to stop fighting the pull of exhaustion, would let a-Fei’s clenched, shaking muscles lay down their tension. 

Nothing changed, although judging by the way a-Fei’s face rustled in his hair, a-Fei had rolled his eyes and raised a skeptical eyebrow, despite the pain and energy expenditure.

Well, there was one thing he hadn’t yet tried. And since a-Fei had thought that praising his qinggong was akin to rewarding Huli Jing’s new tricks with treats, then turn-about was fair play. Now, what precisely had a-Fei said? Ah, yes. “A-Fei?” He waited for a tired hum in response. “You did well, too. Good job. So rest, now, alright? As a reward.” 

A short pause. Then a-Fei’s faint, barely-there huff of amusement tickled the skin on the back of his neck. “–t’s not a new trick,” he said, so quietly Fang Duobing had to strain to hear it.

Fang Duobing smiled sadly and shook his head. Trust a-Fei to find a way to praise his own skills while barely conscious. And simultaneously to refuse to celebrate or rest. “I know. You always do well. You’ve had to. But you’re not alone anymore: you have us. And I know I’m not Xiaohua’er, and you don’t trust me like you trust him. But I promise, I will bring you to him and I won’t let anything get in the way. You’re safe, a-Fei. You can let go now, ok?”

There was a long pause. So long Fang Duobing wondered if he’d actually already lost consciousness.

A-Fei’s finger twitched, then gave Fang Duobing’s collarbone one last, faint tap.

Then a-Fei slumped against his back like a sack of rice. 

Fang Duobing closed his eyes, took a slow, deep breath, letting the crisp scent of the forest sink into his lungs and ground him until he felt less like he was about to cry or shake apart.

Huli Jing whined loudly, then nosed at Fang Duobing’s leg.

“I know,” Fang Duobing said. He swallowed, hiked a-Fei up higher on his back, and took a deep breath. “Lead us home, girl.”

Huli Jing took off, to the left, and around the hill.

Fang Duobing raced after her.

[alrightbuckaroo]

Happy Wednesday, my lovelies! Here's an obligatory not the safest for work warning for this little snippet that comes the next chapter of something to give each other <3

“I think there’s a save a horse, ride a cowboy joke in here somewhere,” TK jokes as Carlos spreads his legs further apart.

“Please don’t ruin the mood you just set,” Carlos’ voice is just on the other side of begging, albeit playful. He wraps his hands around TK’s hips; the whorls of Carlos’ fingertips feel etched on his skin.

“Well,” TK begins, raising his hips. He lines himself up with Carlos, keeping them both on edge. He looks down and says, “Then you better find a way to shut me up.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything, just gives TK the ghost of a smile and thrusts into him.

Thanks for the tags!

@whatsintheboxmh, @heartstringsduet, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @bonheur-cafe, @strandnreyes

@carlos-in-glasses, and @butchreyes

It's a little late but I'll still go ahead and tag

@reyesstrand, @herefortarlos, @honeybee-taskforce, @theghostofashton, @basilsunrise,

@carlos-tk, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @lightningboltreader, and here's an open tag!!