#wednesday confessed

[eidolons-stuff]

Wednesday: "... because I wouldn't want to lose her like I did with my pet scorpion"

Thing: *shooketh*

Wednesday: "I am aware that this makes me inherently vulnerable. I accept that as a consequence"

Thing: *signs* "So... do you like Enid?"

Wednesday: "Well, I am not familiar with the intricate details of having affection-"

Thing: *interrupts by signing* "DO YOU LIKE ENID OR NOT?"

Wednesday: *ponders for a quick second* "Yes. I do"

Thing: *about to die from excitement*

[canisalbus]

I love the duo, both the historical setting and modern AU. Does Vasco ever go to confession while Machete is running it, just to 'confess' to something they did before as a way to tease?

[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: 🤦‍♀️

[0vergrowngraveyard]

random wip wednesday thing! sonic and vanilla having a deep conversation post frontiers edition

”I just…” Sonic stared down at his hands helplessly before he sighed, “I just thought that maybe I’ve been in his life long enough to…I don’t know, reverse any damage they may have caused. I mean, he barely remembers anything about his life before he met me so…”

Vanilla hummed as she considered the hedgehog in front of her and his words, “Well, I don’t know much about this particular subject, but I do know how important it is for young children to receive parental affection and care. It's a very formative time for them and that neglect can have devastating effects on the child later on in life.”

She paused for a brief moment before continuing, “When I was pregnant with Cream, I remember speaking to a few mothers to get some insight and listen to other’s experiences. One of their stories always stuck out to me.” Something about her gaze turned sad, her grip on her mug tightening, “One of the ladies told me about how she didn’t receive much affection when she was younger and how she was using her experience with that as a motivator to be the best mom she possibly could. I remember her mentioning that it almost felt like a piece of her was missing and she was angry for a long time.”

Sonic eyes widened as she went on, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the absence of his parents is starting to weigh on Tails. And, while you’ve been a wonderful guardian for him, I don’t think there’s much that can truly fill in the gap that they left behind.”

Vanilla’s words hung like a weight over Sonic that threatened to fall and break him into a million pieces any second. Had Tails really been struggling with something like that? The kit never told him about anything of the sort and never seemed to even think about his parents. Hell, most days Sonic forgot that Tails hadn’t always been with him. That his last name didn’t just come from nowhere and there are people out there who are biologically related to the kit.

He’d forget that there was a time his little brother wasn’t in his life.

That no one was, really.

Something else suddenly started to enter his mind, something that forced its way in and took over like a parasite. Any thoughts about his little brother were buried in an instant and Sonic felt himself tense. One single question bounced around his skull, trying to escape its confines and make itself known to the rabbit sitting across from him.

If that’s how that lady and Tails felt, then…

“Why don’t I feel like that?”

[poisonlove]

— Surrender | w.a

Wednesday Addams is a girl with a cold demeanor and macabre habits who attends the mysterious Nevermore Academy. Her monotonous life and convictions are disrupted when she comes into contact with T/n, a young vampire with an enigmatic charm and a positive spirit. Despite her initial disdain for T/n, Mercoledì gradually finds herself breaking down the barriers she has built around her heart. However, when T/n, for no apparent reason, decides to distance herself from Mercoledì, the girl becomes trapped in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

I walked through the dark and mysterious hallways of Nevermore, my steps firm and silent, accompanied by the sound of my boots. My long black hair fell over my pale face as my mind was occupied by the strange absence of Y/n. I was used to her constant presence, her teasing and pranks. Despite them bothering me at times, I now realized that I missed those interactions. Somehow, Y/n had brought color to my otherwise monotonous existence.

Flashback

I was in the library, sitting among dusty volumes, when y/n appeared before me. Despite my coldness and detachment, y/n wasn't deterred.

"Hello, Wednesday. How are you?" she greeted.

"It's not your concern," I replied.

"You know, I've noticed you're always so reserved. But I'm sure there's much more behind that façade. If you ever want to talk about it, I'll be here," she said.

"I'd prefer to die than talk to you," I replied coldly. But y/n remained unfazed. On the contrary, her lips curved into a smile, a smile that caught me off guard.

I hated that light y/n emanated, I hated how she seemed to find joy even in the darkest moments. Her smile was like a ray of sunshine in a dark room, and I detested how she was slowly breaking down the barriers I had built around my heart. My coldness was my refuge, and y/n appeared determined to destroy it. It was a conflict within me, between my resistance and her relentless positivity. I was unsettled and confused by this girl who was changing my perception of the world.

End of Flashback

I continued to walk with a slow pace, feeling my heart beat slightly faster at this memory. My icy eyes stared intensely at Yoko, the vampire who shared a room with y/n. With an eerie calmness, I approached her and began the interrogation. "Yoko," I said with a calm but penetrating voice, "where is y/n?" The words came out as a whisper, but my determination shone in my eyes.

"It's none of your business," the vampire replied mockingly, but my patience had reached its limit.

I grabbed her arm with a firm grip, and while maintaining my icy gaze, I firmly repeated"Here, Yoko, all matters are my business. Now, where is y/n?" My determination knew no bounds as I awaited the answer I desired.

"Addams" Yoko began hesitantly, "I can't tell you." My gaze became even more intense, and my voice remained cold as I tightened my grip on her arm.

"You must tell me where she is," I whispered menacingly. "I won't tolerate secrets."

With a penetrating and icy gaze, I stared at Yoko. I could feel her fear as she swallowed loudly.

"If you don't tell me where she is," I whispered with a cutting voice, "I swear I'll make you suffer so intensely that you'll beg to end your life once and for all."

A stream of dark options flowed through my mind, "I could make you burn with garlic... Or bury you alive in a coffin underground..."

Yoko, with wide eyes filled with fear, understood that my reputation as a fearsome girl was not exaggerated. She was aware that I had the power to turn these gruesome threats into reality if necessary.

Yoko averted her gaze, unable to meet my cold and threatening stare. But I didn't stop, continuing with my dark threats, "Or I could take away your precious fangs," I said with an unsettling calmness, noticing her growing alarm. Yoko knew that I was playing with her terror, and the fact that my threat touched her vampiric aspect terrified her even more. She was trapped in my web of dark secrets and relentless threats, and she knew that the only way out was to reveal the truth I was seeking.

"Ehm... okay, okay, you'll find her in Emma's room, Bianca's roommate," a surprised gasp escaped my lips involuntarily, but I quickly regained my usual composure.

"Now, please, get your hands off me!" the vampire impatiently requested.

I gave her a sinister smile and complied slowly before turning away from her. As I walked toward Bianca's room and her insufferable roommate, my thoughts were racing. What was happening in that room? That feeling of disgust, different from my usual pleasant disgust, was unsettling me.

Various hypotheses about the strange encounter between y/n and Emma were driving me mad. As I increased my pace towards Bianca's room, I could feel the strange gazes of the other students on me. But I didn't care at all.

I was anything but normal, and everyone knew it. My thirst for the truth and the desire to uncover what was happening outweighed any concerns about what others thought of me. I had a goal, and I wouldn't allow anything or anyone to stop me.

I stopped in front of Bianca's room, my hearing honed by years of unsettling explorations and dark secrets. The strange noises from inside immediately captured my attention: laughter, whispers, and that faint moan. I clenched my jaw tightly, my sharp mind trying to decipher what lay behind that closed door.

Curiosity mixed with concern, and my gaze became determined. With an eerie certainty, I knew I had to find out what was happening beyond that mysterious threshold.

Without a second thought, I opened the door and entered the room.

Y/n lay on the floor, in pain but with an enigmatic smile on her lips, while Emma held a wand in her hands, clearly channeling her magic. The sight hit me like a punch to the gut.

"What the hell is going on here?" I demanded.

Emma, disgusted, looked at me with eyes full of disdain. "Who invited you here, Addams?"

Emma, a classic and refined beauty, stood up and approached me. Her complexion was fair and luminous, with expressive brown eyes that captured attention. Her hair was brown and flowing, falling softly on her shoulders in a simple yet elegant cut. Her posture was confident, and her face reflected a mixture of determination and disgust as she confronted me. Her presence was remarkable, and her style was clean and sophisticated, in perfect harmony with her distinct aura.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust, noticing the freckles around Emma's face that emphasized our proximity.

My hatred for Emma made me grit my teeth as I tried to stay composed. "I wanted to talk to y/n," I stated coldly, not hiding my contempt.

"We're spending the day together, and y/n is helping me perfect my spells. I don't think there's room for you here, Wednesday," she replied with a coldness that matched my own.

Tension hung heavy in the air.

"It seems Yoko didn't keep her promise," y/n intervened sarcastically. Her words made me raise an eyebrow in confusion. What did she mean?

I turned to y/n, diverting my attention away from Emma. "What do you mean?" I asked.

Y/n looked down at her hands hesitantly, then sighed. "Nothing," she replied timidly. Her strange behavior only piqued my curiosity further, and without a second thought, I began to walk slowly toward her. Despite Emma's protests, I had no intention of giving up. The truth was within reach, and I wouldn't stop until I uncovered it.

My usual cold tone softened slightly as I asked again, "What were you referring to?"

Y/n lowered her head and seemed to ignore me. My curiosity grew, and, seized by a moment of anger at her lack of response, I took y/n's hand, intertwining our fingers.

Surprisingly, I felt warmth emanating from the palm of her hand.

For a vampire, it emitted an unusual warmth.

Without a second thought, I exerted force to pull y/n up from the bed, not noticing the sensation of cobwebs seemingly weaving in my stomach. My determination to get answers was stronger than anything else, and I was unaware of the growing blush on my cheeks. I thought it might be due to an impending illness and dismissed this strange feeling, continuing my pursuit of the truth.

Emma's eyes stared at me with irritation. "Let her go," the witch muttered under her breath. "It's okay,"  y/n said timidly, but her response didn't convince me at all.

Without any hesitation, I dragged y/n out of the room, breaking the contact between our hands. My cold gaze settled on her as I observed her carefully.

"So, what's gotten into you?" I asked calmly.

Y/n ignored my gaze and timidly bit her lip, revealing her sharp fangs. My expression remained cold and impassive, showing no empathy. My piercing gaze highlighted T/n's embarrassment.

"It's better if I go," y/n mumbled with embarrassment.

A sigh escaped my lips as I watched her turn away and start walking down the corridor. However, I felt the need to stop her.

"Wait," I asserted before she got too far.

Y/n turned towards me, looking at me with curiosity. In that moment, I noticed that the sunlight filtering through the window emphasized the pallor of her skin, a fascinating contrast with her dark hair.

Her black eyes scrutinized me attentively, as if they wanted to delve into my soul. Then, unexpectedly, a smile escaped her, displaying her sharp canines. A shiver ran down my spine, but not out of fear.

My eyes wandered along y/n's figure, and I involuntarily swallowed when I noticed her exposed neck. I felt uncomfortable, a completely new sensation for me in the presence of this girl.

I began to confess what had been lingering in my mind for a long time. My tone remained cold as I spoke.

"I know I'm not a normal girl... I don't like physical contact much, I hate human stupidity... I don't like novelty; I'm a girl with strange, macabre tastes who, above all, adores routine."

My voice became more uncertain as I continued, "That's why I hate what you're doing, that's why I hate your interest in me... That's why I hate what you make me feel... you're something that disrupts my damn routine."

Y/n widened her eyes in surprise, then, with superhuman speed, she rushed toward me, making me feel a rush of air. Her reaction caught me off guard; I wasn't sure how she would respond to these sincere yet cold confessions.

Y/n's hand landed on my cheek, her nails tracing my skin gently. Her black eyes looked at me serenely, and they seemed to shine for a dark reason. Her hand moved down my lips, grazing them with the tips of her fingers.

"Why couldn't you tell me earlier?" Y/n murmured weakly, biting her lip.

"I didn't want to give in to these feelings," I confessed in a whisper, feeling a strange need to bite her vampire-like lips.

Y/n looked at me curiously, then smiled. It was a satisfied smile, marked by her damn sharp fangs.

She knew she had won.

[renardsruses]

Priest Wolfwood 🐺✝️

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

tagged by @diazsdimples @tizniz @daffi-990 @bidisasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck 💖💖

i wasn't gonna post today but I'm currently writing another one of Buck and Taylor's arguments and I'm having so much fun lol (there's gonna be only one more conversation between them after this haha) I keep having new ideas for the in-between of what I had planned, and I hope all of this turns out coherent, I'm probably gonna have to do so much editing lol I'm so determined to post it this month and I'm actually inspired!

prev snippet

___

“I don’t know what to tell you.” he sighs, averting his gaze, as he’s trying to think about anything to say, but his mind is blank. 

“How about the truth? I really just want to know what the hell is going on with you. Because this-” she throws her hands out, vaguely gesturing around. “This isn’t a life together, and I don’t know how many more times we can have this exact same conversation.”

“Taylor…” he starts, hoping more words would come. “I’m sor-”

“Is there someone else?” she blurts out, angry tears welling in her eyes. He feels his own eyes widen in surprise, and his cheeks burn.

“What?”

“I mean, are you seeing someone else?” she doubles down, her tone a little shaky, but still determined. Suddenly, he feels his heart in his throat, and he has to make a conscious effort to breathe. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie

[super-hero-confessions]

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

wip wednesday

tagged by @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @malewifediaz

thank ya darlins! <3

here's another little snippet from drunk confession fic. im almost finished with edits so it should be coming to an ao3 near you soon!

Eddie places Buck’s hand flat over his heart and holds it there, nodding again like this is all the confirmation Buck needs.

And it is actually, because Buck can feel the rapid rhythm punching through blood and muscle and bone beneath his palm.

It’s fast and booming and insistent and utterly beautiful. It’s the flutter of a desperate prayer. It’s the rush of a thrill so tart that its aftertaste lingers for days. It’s the exact match to the blaring song that’s taken up residence in Buck’s own chest.

“Oh,” Buck breathes. “That for me?”

He should probably be embarrassed by how pleased and shy he sounds, but he can’t find it in him to be, not when Eddie’s entire body softens as he melts into Buck.

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs. “For you.”

tagging @elvensorceress @spaceprincessem @diazass @spagheddiediaz @911onabc @chronicowboy @athenagranted @shitouttabuck @gayedmundodiaz @captain-hen @devirnis @bvckandeddie @spotsandsocks @messyhairdiaz @sibylsleaves @bekkachaos @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @jeeyuns @lemonzestywrites @bigfootsmom @honestlydarkprincess @bucks118 @butchdiaz @paranoidbean and anyone else who wants to share!

[myfaveficrecs]

Confession Wednesday

I know sometimes we don't always have someone that we can talk to about our days or problems we are having. We don't always have the relationships we need in order to unburden ourselves from secrets we carry. So, I would like to start "Confession Wednesday" for every week.

You can send me an ask on anonymous and let go of anything that is bothering you. There is no limit to how many you can send or what it is about. It is a judgment free zone for someone to listen to you, maybe get some advice if that is what you need. This is for anyone and everyone.

Please share this and spread the word.

Taglist: 

@roosterscock  

@roosterforme  

@bradshawsbitch  

@jupitercomet  

@seresinhangmanjake  

@fandomxpreferences  

@wildbornsiren  

@babyrooster 

@ohtobeleah  

@callsign-marlie  

@callsign-milano  

@oncasette  

@topguncortez  

@topgun-imagines  

@roleycoleyreccenterr  

@call-sign-shark  

@cherrycola27  

@thedroneranger  

@notroosterbradshaw

@almostgenerallyalways  

@roosterbruiser  

@teacupsandtopgun  

@endofdays56 

@princessphilly 

@wolfmoonmusic 

@phoenix1388 

@wintercap89 

@timbradfordsboot 

@adaydreamaway08 

@je-suis-prest-rachel 

@ofstoriesandstardust

@flowers-and-fichte 

@mak-32 

@greatszu 

[dreamtigress]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tags, @onthewaytosomewhere and @priincebutt!

I still need to polish up the last section of chapter 5 of Vakantie, but I can share another snippet of Inej and Kaz's conversation in the dark on their last night at the farm.

Behind her, Kaz’s breathing indicated he was laughing to himself about something.

“What’s got you so tickled now?”

“Well… You kind of gave me an opening to ask something, and I’m trying to figure out if I’m brave enough to take it.”

What? Brave enough? What is he on about? Out loud, she quietly prompted, “Go on…”

The rise and fall of his chest pressed on her back as he took a deep breath. Beyond that, he went still once more, and his voice was granite serious. “You asked me if I would want to live as Kaz Rietveld… Would you… Would you want to live as Inej Rietveld?”

What? Her mind echoed itself. “Kaz, are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“I’m asking… about that…” If his vocal chords hadn’t been damaged, she imagined his voice might have cracked with the way his nerves were so evident. “If you would want that… If you’d ever want to be married? To me, I mean...”

Inej’s mind flooded with all of the thoughts from their ride down. Since Kaz had openly admitted to researching Suli courtship and the suprukravata. Every instance of him saying ‘Mistress Rietveld’ and the way it made her feel. They were closer than some married couples already. Even if Kaz was a master of secrets, he had gotten far better at sharing the contents of his mind. Their partnership, their relationship, would already be recognized by some as akin to marriage. Just not legally, or in the eyes of the Ghezen or the Saints. Kaz wasn’t proposing. He was, it seemed, trying to ask if she might want that. 

Slender lockpick’s fingers tapped a shivery rhythm on her hand in the dark of the bedroom. I’ve been quiet too long and made him anxious. Still, she took another moment to compose her answer.

“The simple answer is yes…” His fingers stopped their tapping and he clutched her hand tight. “The longer answer… is that we would need to figure out what that looks like for us.”

Soft tagging: @intosnarkness, @tinyarmedtrex, @19burstraat, @magicandpizza, and @cameliawrites if you have anything you'd like to share.

[eidolons-stuff]

Wednesday: "After talking to Thing, I came to the realisation that these... feelings I somehow have-"

Enid: *getting nervous & excited*

Wednesday: "go beyond friendship - according to Thing"

Enid: *a little confused* "So... what are you saying?"

Wednesday: *kinda shocked* "uh... I believe I have become enamoured with you"

Enid: *frozen with shock, staring at Wednesday*

[arcturianview]

holy crow man. i binged the second season of LC in one night (bad decision dont do that i now need to go back and watch it again cause its all sludgy in my brain) and that twist ending hit me like a truck.

after watching the first season as it came out and being super hyped for the second, only to fall off watching it cause i did not care too much for the structure + it was at a really busy time in my life... well i wasnt sure what to expect, but it sucked me in.

i still definitely have some beef with the writing and structure (the recontextualization of previous scenes is only cool the first 5 times, and only when it doesnt feel like you cut away super deceptively, and its also cooler when you dont use upwards of 20 seconds of the exact same footage we already saw)

BUT THEY ALSO GAVE ME EVERYTHING I WANTED!!!!!!! QIAO LING & CHENG XIAOSHI SIBLINGS REAL!!!!!!! TIME LOOP THEORY REAL!!!!!! more sick fight scenes??? the main trio acting like they actually like each other more than once per episode (not that the stuff in season 1 isn't good, we're just getting the pay off here), through a game of memory telephone Qiao Ling has now seen images of her brother (!!) dying, so thats exciting and i hope the next sequential episodes (cause my understanding is that the bridon arc is a prequel) show her grappling with the horror of that and also i would love to have her and Lu Guang talk abt it and then not tell Cheng Xiaoshi bc they need to be closer friends.

anyway i think without the twist ending and the QL & CXS stuff we got i probably would have gone "well, that was a let down compared to season 1 but oh well, hopefully the bridon arc is good" and promptly moved on with my life, but these clowns actually have a stranglehold on me right now. 

[gardenoblues]

Tyler: *sobbing on a corner*

Bianca: What the hell happened to him?

Enid: Wednesday confessed her feelings to him this morning.

Bianca:...ok, that's great? Didn't he like her too, why's he crying?

Enid: Well... *turns to Tyler* hey Ty, what happened to you this morning?

Tyler: Wednesday confessed to me.

Enid: And what did you say?

Tyler: *sobs harder* "Merci beaucoup"

[voltstone]

stagger (Wenclair One-Shot)

Enid is her one exception, so Wednesday tries. Again, and again, and again. She gets it right, asking Enid to…not a date. Eventually.

[3,276] | [Last Edit: 12/10/2022] (Full One-Shot Post)

Note: This one-shot has been reposted from my old account onto this one. If it looks familiar, that's why. (The issues with that account are why you can't see the "blocked" comments on posts, like the one I initially responded to; I was shadow-banned for...no reason? Some reason? Oh well.)

Hope you enjoy! :)

It has been decided:

Wednesday Addams would court Enid Sinclair.

On a Wednesday, no less.

Because nobody deserved Enid, and Enid was loyal to heart so, logically, if Wednesday courted her, no other would have the chance. There would not be another Ajax. No more forgotten dates, nor absent mental function. Nor, potentially, any acts of sabotage. Wednesday still kept the rope and pulleys in her desk for just in case. Regardless, this had been decided, and all there needed to be done was the courtship itself—something that was more of a work in progress than Wednesday liked to admit.

She now stood at the courtyard’s rim, watching a grotesque sea of midnight violets and stripes. Amongst them, however, was life, was spirit. Wednesday's luna dorada…

Enid was crafted by her blue moon eyes—more than her haunting blonde, splashed by berry shades—, for they were piercing, and they carried more than the Wednesday’s dead-weighted stare. They had a way of striking every insult to dust, and a way of worming beneath her gaunt complexion. Or, when they would drown, the blue to her eyes were what Wednesday sought to mend. Every time. Without fail.

And they drowned after Ajax.

And every subsequent boy.

Then girl. There was a girl too, but that didn’t last. None of them did, but she certainly didn’t.

…Enid was particularly upset with that one. Only now did Wednesday begin to begrudgingly admit that, perhaps, being the reason why a student jumped from academy to mental institution like a tick should’ve weighed heavier on her conscious. Begrudgingly, though. Wednesday still couldn’t find hers, so she borrowed Enid’s conscious, and as it turned out, that whole…incident weighed like an anvil.

It took a moment for Wednesday to realize she had been reflecting for much too long. She hadn’t moved from the pillar. And with a bark of laughter from the midnight sea, her attention snapped.

Blue moon found the ink of her eyes. Enid beamed at Wednesday, dared to spite what scars slashed her face, from across the tables.

A threat. (Enid merely smiled.) What sick behavior. (Sure, Wednesday.) She was going to vomit. (From the stress.) From the agony. (…no.)

There was a blink. Her heart urged ejection—orally.

So.

Wednesday flipped her off.

It was an honest reflex.

…

This exchange would be the one. A swift, passing moment between classes, with Enid skipping her way to interspecies biology, and Wednesday, cryptic humanities, at a stroll. Five minutes at most. The corridor they used was…occupied, as it usually was, though far from the bustling wing it would devolve to at other hours.

As usual, they stopped before the odd display case—to commemorate the school’s history of its students on milk cartons.

“Enid.”

Her smile grew in ways Wednesday would never understand, yet would come to…notice. Often. As fleeting, busy thoughts. They were often gnats. Never to leave until Wednesday paid them their due time. This particular smile dug into Enid’s cheeks, and it was a toothy one, with sly eyes, and a chin leaned towards her shoulder. (It would be one to ponder on for a while. Before bed, namely.) “…Wednesday?" Enid humored, "You’ve been a little mean today, you know.”

“It is my day,” Wednesday muttered.

She also noticed that Enid did grow a few inches after all. Her eyes flecked along Enid’s pinstriped, midnight uniform and concluded that, yes, her skirt looked a little shorter than it had before. "Do you…have something to say?“

Wednesday crept her stare back to Enid’s blue moon. There’s a pause, then Enid pressed, from the corner of her mouth, ”Or…ask?“

A blink. She swallowed down a sludge of webbed thoughts. "Enid. I…" That skirt needed to be longer. Since when did Enid grow? Over break, surely. Behind Wednesday’s back, no doubt. "I think that…" It hardly mattered. Wednesday was asking— Wednesday was courting Enid, and she— "Would— Would…you…”  She didn’t. Know. Where?! “To the—" Where would she court Enid? A funeral? "Go to…” No, she couldn’t.

“Wednesday…?”

Why did she not check the obituary this week?! This morning, for the—

Her eyes snapped to Enid. And she blinked. Twice this time. “What?”

Enid’s sly eyes had a mild twitch to them. Which was…new. Almost. She didn’t do that with Wednesday often. The last time was before their occasion at the last fair. And before that had been the night where they danced as one, at the masquerade—music to harmonize, words left unsaid. (It was a favorite moment.) “Do you want to go to town together?” A question, like the couple times before. Enid toyed with her hands, then added, quietly, “And we can go to that creepy antique store you like?”

“With the roadkill?”

“Yeah.”

Wednesday did like that store. "Yes. That would be…worthwhile.“

"…and then ice cream?”

She fought a grimace. Stamped it down. “The one that smells desperate for attention?”

“Uh, yeah, that one,” Enid said. Her eyes watched Wednesday, as full as ever.

“Okay.” Wednesday nodded, though it was slow, and it was cautious. Enid had a way of writhing guilt to her chest as heartworm. 

(She also had a way of patience:) “They have the vanilla you like.”

“Yes, then.”

Wednesday spoke the route to Enid’s apparent gaiety. “Okay!" she near-squealed, her hands clasped together. Before Wednesday found them latched on either shoulder. That gaiety, as it bloomed full in her eyes, threatened to chip the color from her nails and into the black of Wednesday’s uniform. "So after class then!”

She found she didn’t mind it. Enid could leave her sediment of color all she liked, so long as she kept her eyes from drowning. “Fine,” Wednesday said, with an added, “Don’t bother me until the hour.”

Enid’s nodding was frantic. The twitch in her eye skewed the smile in her cheek. 

Wednesday meandered around Enid with a thick mouth, and a heavy mind. She didn’t court her. Forgot to know what, exactly, the courting would be in the first place. How that blunder managed to come to fruition, she didn’t know. But Wednesday did know that it needed to be rectified. Near-immediately. Before their excursion to town, if she could help it—

“YES. FINALLY. JESUS CHRIST!" 

She wasn’t ten strides away, and already, Enid bothered her before the hour. Bothered, or rather startled her.

Wednesday craned her eyes to Enid. Enid, who, stood frigid, eyes round and face strained to another wide, toothy smile. This one curled her scars into an awkward, bent geometry. With a swallow, she explained, "…th-this is, um, our first time shopping together. Alone.”

A long, sharp exhale forced what stammer in Wednesday’s heart that shouldn’t have been, though Enid always managed, somehow. She stared for a good moment. Then: “We can stop by the funeral home, Enid. I know how to obtain a discount for a casket your size.”

Enid gulped sheepishly.

(Nothing she ever did was particularly wolfish, now that Wednesday realized.)

…

Wednesday, against her better judgement, sat herself at her desk, in her chair. Her eyes bore through Thing’s palm as he drabbled a meandering, smug tune. [You look chipper.]

“I’ll throw you in one. Quit with the shit-eating, you don’t even have a mouth.”

Thing rolled himself into a fist, exasperated. (He really should have expected this.) Then, he flopped, and waved, and signed: [Okay. Fine. But you do look…very schoolgirl.] Wednesday stared. [Without the dimples.] She frowned. [Or the giggling.]

“Don’t flatter me.”

[I know what a schoolgirl who needs advice looks like.] Thing jabbed his thumb to Enid’s blaring side of the room.

She didn’t follow his gesture. There was no need. She heard such schoolgirl who needed advice on a daily basis. But, given that, Wednesday finally relented. Because as much as this was against her better judgement, her better judgement was floundering or flipping Enid off—panicking, in other words, as she figured the mere hour before. So, she relented, and grumbled, “…it’s about her, actually.” She didn’t look at Thing. Not as he swayed his self-satisfaction, the filthy romantic. “I have decided that no one is good for Enid, and if I am to kill anyone who has done wrong by her, I might as well be by her side too.”

She glanced at him. Rocked her jaw. Blinked. Then stared into his favorite stitch. “I don’t know how to court her.”

[I knew it.]

“Doesn’t matter.”

[Don’t be like that.]

Wednesday gnawed the inside of her cheek in stewed silence. She hated it whenever Thing did that—chastised her. He was a hand. She wasn’t a child.

The moment between them throbbed a familiar strain, where the hand talked back, and Wednesday was left to configure whether or not she missed something. Which happened. A lot. Particularly with Enid and whatever bout of emotions had twisted to obscurity. Anger often was blurred with frustration, and guilt did the same. Enid was explosive, that way. Had Wednesday start to suspect that anger wasn’t an emotion at all, but rather an armor set…

She watched Thing expectantly. He drummed nonsense, then asked, [What have you done so far? ]

…that was not a good question to answer.

Wednesday stalled. Avoided him entirely.

Unfortunately for her, Thing’s drumming turned morse:

[…W E D N E S D A Y.]

She scowled. “You know I hate it when you do that,” she muttered. 

Thing, once her eyes flecked back to him, beneath her desk lamp, signed, [Then look at me.] A nail leaned from the light, towards Enid’s half. [How can I help if you do not look? ]

Wednesday sat with herself for a second that felt too long. If every two shoulders were birthed with an angel and a demon on either side, Wednesday was born with only the latter, until the former spawned far too late. And that angel was Enid, and she very much wanted to flick the damn thing off.

Because this moment felt like it should be an apology. For…something. Being too calloused, or, in Enid’s words, a stone-cold bitch.

Exhaled, Wednesday begrudgingly appeased the worst part of herself: “…sorry.” She might as well have molted off her tongue. From her peripheral, however, Thing fluttered in the lamplight. He was happy about it, at least.

“Now just tell me what to do.”

Surprise teemed from his skin. [How bad were you?! ] 

“Thing.”

He paused, heard the something in her voice which Wednesday didn’t know to swallow down, then signed, methodically, [Swoon then kiss her.]

Wednesday leaned forward, brows strewn together. She must have popped a vessel. “What?”

[Swoon. Then kiss her.]

She didn’t. Apparently.

[Don’t you want to court her? ] Thing continued, if tentative. Slowly, Wednesday nodded. [And…kiss her? ] Another question… [Hold hands? ] And another question… […pet names? ] And another which she couldn’t answer. Not really. They weren’t good ones, anyway.

Regardless, Wednesday managed the only semblance of one she could: “I’m not my parents, Thing." There was a consideration. "Nor Enid for the matter. I told you. I want to court her, and then kill— Dissuade anybody who tries to hurt her.”

Thing slumped, and Wednesday could practically see the disappointment pale in his fingertips. [You’re not killing Ajax.]

“I amended what I said.”

[You’re also not buying a mirror.]

Wednesday bit her inner-cheek—hoped for blood.

[Or azaleas. Or larkspurs.]

“…fine," she grated, with a gaze swept across her drawers. "And don’t steal my grocery lists.”

Thing took that as the best he would get. (It was.) He drummed again, then waved for her attention. Wednesday read closely:

[You are not romantic. I get that.

[But if you want to court her, you have to meet in the middle.

[Do something Enid would like.]

She hesitated, then leaned into the back of her seat. Something Enid would like… There were many things, too many which Wednesday didn’t know if she could stomach. She would have to, of course. Courtships were, after all, matters of covenant. A pact. A promise. Through life. Beyond death.

If only she knew what about her appeased Enid.

(The answer was everything, really. Enid’s far from picky when it came to Wednesday.)

…

Wednesday admired the roadkill. Enid looked green, though she still managed a smile or two.

They bought one wearing an astronaut’s suit.

(Enid said something about ink being her whole world. Blue moon looked far from drowning as she did.)

Then, Enid got herself a harrowing display of color vomited on a cone. With sprinkles.

She brought Wednesday her vanilla. It tasted plain. It was savored.

Throughout it all, Wednesday rummaged for their courtship. Because eyes stalked Enid. Eyes not her own.

…

“You finished the ice cream.”

They decided to walk back to the academy. Enid figured that it’d do her good to burn off the ice cream (despite the Lycan’s metabolism being the gift from the gods), and Wednesday liked to roam in the biting chill. It didn’t threaten rain, unfortunately, though the wind mused about a night of hail. That almost brought a smile to Wednesday’s face. Almost. It brought a clipped scowl to Enid’s.

“I did,” she answered, after a moment.

Wednesday felt her eyes wander to her—across her profile, down her braids. “And you’ve been…thinking this whole time,” Enid remarked, her voice awfully intimate. It got that way frequently, as of late. 

Her dead-weighted stare matched the tempo to their strides, darted along each splash of color to Enid’s autumn wear. Wednesday decided those awfully intimate words felt warmer than the scarf around her neck. And that warmth was…lively. The same kind that adorned a casket before burial, as a bouquet of leaves and flowers, color and white. It was acceptable. A homely embrace.

“Yes.” Wednesday looked forward—watched for the bend down the road. Her admission stirred from her lips, quietly: “About you.”

Enid smiled, and that smile lingered as she remarked, “I mean I would hope so.” A laugh. Kind to the ears. “It’d be honestly so tragic if you weren’t.”

Wednesday merely hummed. An itch, then, plagued itself. There was no swallowing it. So she noted, “People looked at you.”

“I…” Enid sounded softer. Not like leaves and flowers, though, nor color and white. Like a lamb. Before headlights. “They…did?”

Together, they stopped dead.

As Enid reached for her scars, brushed down their lines by her fingertips, Wednesday said, “You’re a pink mess. And you're…giddy.” Amongst other things, of course. Enid was far from sore on the eyes. She was a bundle of energy, yet swift of mind, all at once. “Of course they did.” Wednesday frowned, however. For the look in Enid’s eyes looked close to drowning—though rather than to a hurricane, a still, frigid blanket. “Enid?”

She snapped back, and her eyes found Wednesday’s. "It’s nothing. Just checking my make-up.“

Neither moved. Stuck in place, locked in the passing minute.

"They’re only scars, I’ve told you,” Wednesday murmured. 

“I know." She heard Enid’s armor—that non-emotion—synch in place. "But they’re still on my face, Wednesday!" she hissed. "People see these first. And when I meet new people, they’re not going to remember me as Enid, they’re just going to see a girl who probably got mauled by a stupid bear.”

This felt like another moment. Not an apology, though, no.

Yet Wednesday was twinged by the same hesitance. And that hesitance had a name, and it was one she bitterly knew well: remorse. An ugly thing.

She would mend it. Fix the guilt from Enid’s face. Keep those drowned eyes from leaking into those lines.

“I’ll give them matching ones.”

“No.”

“They can have their own to look in the mirror.”

“Wednesday, no." 

She had to. Because those lines were tallies, and those tallies marked each failure. Each snide retort. The window. The taped border. 

And that damn. Fucking. Manor.

…that scar, Wednesday imagined, was the deepest one. Rather than a ravine, a gorge. 

"I do know some bears,” Wednesday said, almost desperate. “They would do it.”

“No!" The desperation wasn’t for naught. Because Enid’s smile bled to her voice, and Wednesday felt as though, perhaps, the gorge was an increment closer to being another ravine, then, someday, a mere trench.

Her blue moon eyes grew bright. Wednesday felt her webbed thoughts sludge again. They were thick to swallow, though she let strands coat her words: "Enid. When I look at your face, I don’t think of your scars first.”

Wednesday felt herself tip towards asphyxiation. The moment twitched. Her throat tightened.

Enid watched her. “Then…how do you think of it?” she asked, as quiet as ever. Their eyes met.

As they did, Wednesday knew one thing:

Nobody was worth Enid’s affection. Herself least of all.

Those scars would never truly heal, nor the ravines beneath her eyes, beneath her words. Wednesday did, however, want to heal. Somehow. She didn’t know how. The urge was a shadow cloaked behind her. It was mute. It didn’t say anything. But, Wednesday felt it, somewhere. And it was different from what had her tear a chest open and gut, or curl an erratic melody. Perhaps she could learn how to mend blindly, though. To reach into those eyes, and those words, and pull Enid to safety.

And she did just that. Ink clothed Enid’s blue moon, stared deep for her words. Her skin flushed beneath Wednesday’s hand. But, Enid didn’t break away. Neither did.

So Wednesday reigned her close. She heard Enid’s breath hitch, and she felt her anxiety coil to her palm.

The kiss felt like lips.

(It burned, and seared, as a prickle down Enid’s spine.)

Once broken apart, Wednesday watched her. It was…a nice thing. Better than she expected. Less than the hurricane she just subjected Enid to, but more than a mere graze of skin. Maybe. It sounded right, for the moment. Her lurking shadow fidgeted, anyway, so it had to have been.

Wednesday swallowed down a chill. Savored it, for Enid felt like vanilla. Her jaw itched to speak, and—

Wait. Oh no.

She still couldn’t think of anything.

And— And oh no her lips were actually buzzing. Slightly. Like she just kissed a bee.

“U-Uh, Wednesday…?”

“Shut up.” That lurking shadow winced. This wasn’t going well. Wednesday didn’t mean that, so to clarify, she muttered, “I’m thinking.”

“…you could just—”

“Shut up. I’m thinking.” Thinking and forgetting. Wednesday couldn’t scrounge what she thought to ask. (This, she assumed, was why Thing told her to swoon and then kiss. Enid’s mouth didn’t even feel like much, but it was still biting her on the ass. Figuratively.)

Wednesday glanced, and she caught a smug, growing smile. “Enid.”

“Yeah…?” Enid purred.

She opened her mouth, figured an insult wouldn’t help matters, and closed it. Wednesday rifled through every idea she could flounder. “Tomorrow night.” That was a start. “Grave-robbing. I have…a kit for two.” A very, very good idea. Except— Wait no. Enid looked perturbed. “I know— I know where every colonizer was buried in the town. We could…sell everything to the antique…store…”

“…grave-robbing. …okay.”

“Yes.” Wednesday, unfortunately, then found what she should’ve thought of before. So: “And…p-picnic.”

Enid brightens. There’s a nod, followed by a swift peck to Wednesday’s cheek. “It’s a date then.”

Wednesday felt her throat gravel noise. Then, she felt clockwork turn behind her ears. The hour struck, and her gut squirmed. “Was this a date?” She stared. Enid’s blue moon eyes stagnated. “Enid.” They darted. “Enid, answer me.”

“…n-no?”

“Enid. How— How many have we had?”

“U-Uh…” Enid’s grin was, of course, sheepish. “…seven?”

Hope you enjoyed! :)

[robloxconfessions2]

drops a subspace tripmine in the askbox >:)

AAAAAAAAAAH

what the hell this isn’t s pink explosion