#woe is me honestly lol

[saltygirafe]

when woe speaks part 1

Wednesday has a new obsession, and its name is Enid Sinclair

I had expected my first real brush with death—one neither at my hand nor my brother’s—to be thrilling. It must be said that feeling all the warmth pool out of my body was a riveting experience I was ready to embrace.

But as I was going cold, before Goody came to my rescue, something felt wrong. I was afraid—who wouldn’t be, even one as much at peace with their own mortality as I am. More than anything, I was afraid to leave the school unprotected, the case forever unclosed. A new fear, among all of the world-changing ones, surprised me.

I could feel my heartbeat. Far from its usual slow pulse—slow enough to trick medical personnel into pronouncing me dead on a whim, it was instead pounding in my bones. What was I missing? There was nothing else I could do. I had failed already, what was the point in rehashing my failure?

Holding onto fears in our last moments is futile. They bring nothing but torment we can never resolve.

I was unable to chase the thoughts away. Not only had I failed myself and everyone, I had failed Enid. Despite our spats and disagreements, she had believed in me more than anyone. Supported me even though I had hurt her—even though I didn’t deserve it. Now I was leaving her behind with all my problems to solve.

I think—I think from that fear burgeoned the unthinkable: yearning. I, Wednesday Addams, found myself yearning for another chance. One more go to save Enid, to prove my worth; to gain my own place in the world.

It was hard to believe how eagerly I jumped at the occasion to evade death a little longer. It remains to be seen if Death will ever forgive me. I do hope this rejection hasn’t burned any bridges for the future. I would hate to find myself living longer than what I had decided, simply because I wanted to protect…friends.

***

Enid’s arms were fragile. They could be snapped with the right amount of tension, or ripped apart with a simple knot tied to a weight, thrown out a window.

Her body could be shredded with blades, trampled by horses, or cracked like an egg dropped on pavement. She might be small enough to survive the iron-maiden I received for my birthday last year, fitting snugly between the spikes—just like I fit in the crook of her neck.

The stench of wet earth mixed with the salt of fresh blood filled my lungs with every breath as I allowed her to hold me. It was the least I could offer, after she’d fought the Hyde to protect me. I allowed it—even going as far as to reciprocate.

Not out of affection, or friendship. No. But she did deserve it, after everything she had been through because of me. My being haunted by the scent of her wet hair, covered in muck and hemoglobin, was unrelated.

***

Ever since that night, I would wake with the scent of rain on my mind. Musky, petrichor scent clinging to my senses even as I was wrenched from my nightmares.

“I would rather start the day impaled,” I told Thing, as his fingers inquisitively tapped on my bedside table. Had he still been in possession of his body, he would have cocked his head to the side—instead the knob of wrist left on him twitched with intrigue.

I didn’t feel like elaborating on my most recent woes, so I simply uncrossed my arms and rose out of bed.

No doubt my parents would soon appear to remind me we were to depart for Nevermore promptly, and I had no interest in enduring their doting longer than necessary. I had been packed for days—not for any particular anticipation of my return to campus, or enthusiasm at the idea of seeing everyone again, it was simply a practicality. To accelerate the process of leaving the manor and spending as little time in a confined space with father and mother—watching them be at each other’s beck and call, filled with overt affection and never ending hormones — had been especially grating to my sanity as of late.

I could wait to return to school, but I would rather not. The faster I was out of the house, the better. Mother had insisted on holding regular sessions to refine my gift as best as possible, but the visions had never been a pleasant process for my psyche—in the torturous way that would render me vulnerable, and not the fun way that would inevitably drive me to psychosis.

Even Enid’s incessant nagging felt like better torture to subject myself to. 

Against all logic and rational thought, I got in the car with a beat to my step worthy of a funeral procession.

“My, Wednesday, you seem in a less sour mood than usual today,” Mother told me, no doubt referring to the way I had sat down without first adjusting my skirt to avoid creasing it.

“Banish the thought,” it was intended as a dismissive statement, but even I had no choice but to notice the lack of any bite in my tone. It only drew a wider, more twisted smile across my mother’s face. What a pain.

As I closed my eyes to ignore my parents overt displays of affection, my skin tightened at the memory of Enid’s spine-breaking hold. She had run to me with such relief I hadn’t the strength to move out of the way. The matted strands of her hair still tickled my nose.

I wiped at the phantom sensation as the car slowed in front of the gates. My chest shrunk over my lungs, giving me hope I was asphyxiating due to a severe allergic reaction to the fall colors, but I quickly realized my hopes were in vain. This was merely the result of my senseless daydreaming, now coming true.

I had missed these grounds, ironically. After all, never had I encountered such diverse dangers until I stepped foot on them. What could this semester have in store for me? I was dying to know.

Perhaps this time, I would witness death in a whole new fashion. I had already dated a psychopathic serial killer, so I could check that off the bucket list, but there were still so many entries left.

I still had to discover a new disease, outsmart a tortured evil genius, and be burned at the stake for sorcery before I turned 20. I could not afford—

“Wednesday!” Enid’s form appeared in my peripheral vision as I disembarked from the family vehicle. 

At once, I was back in her blood soaked arms, the night we defeated Crackstone, taking in the metallic smell coating her body. What a sight it had been—of course it would become a recurring vision. She was perfect, in that moment, and I—

“Wednesday?” She sounded worried, then. I realized I hadn’t acknowledged her presence, or flinched away when she approached with open arms.

She’d stopped on her own before touching me, now concerned by my lethargy. “Enid,” I droned, planting both my feet into the ground and letting go of the door. “It seems there are still shades of pink you hadn’t assaulted my eyes with yet.”

A righteous smile illuminated her features again, curving the pale lines across her left cheek along. “I see you’ve taken good care of your wounds. They’ve barely left a mark. How disappointing.”

Her hand rose to the scars, as if suddenly they’d started hurting again. “Oh these? Yeah…” The smile was gone already.

“Are you embarrassed by them?” She didn’t reply. An uneasiness settled in my stomach at the feeble twitch of her lips as she tried to recover. “Scars are tales carved into flesh,” I assured her, “you should be proud of them.”

“That’s what my mom said too—”

“Plus, you got them protecting” me. Fighting Tyler off me, putting herself in harm’s way to save me even though I hadn’t shown any similar inclination previously, instead putting her and the others in danger myself. “ —your friends. They are proof of your courage, and your loyalty.”

My hand twitched with an instinct to reach over and remove hers from her face. It was imperceptible to the untrained eye, but I had learned to always be aware of every movement of my body, in the case one of my appendages decided to rebel and I had to cut it off before the insubordinate member spread its sentience to others. I knew.

Enid beamed again, this time enveloping me in a tight embrace without leaving me a chance to recoil. I don’t know that I would have, either way.

Instead of her usual overbearing perfume, she smelled of autumn leaves and cemetery grass. Had she buried someone recently? 

I decided not to unearth that body, just yet. It would be a topic for another time. My parents were already unloading the car of my belongings, and I refused to let them imagine for even a second I was anything but neutral about returning to Nevermore.

My eyes found Enid’s prim face following me like a lighthouse every time I looked over. When it was time to walk to our room, she turned to my family before I could.

“I got it from here. They’re being very strict about who we let into the buildings after well—oh, I’m sure you’re not up to anything, but the school, uh”

“We can never be too cautious after what happened, yes.” Mother looked at father with playful eyes. What was she imagining? “Well then, Wednesday, we’ll see you on the crystal ball next weekend.”

“Goodbye, my Wilting Flower. Do your worst.” My father kissed my head, and they were off. Thing climbed up Enid’s shoulder to wave at them.

“Thing! Oh, I can’t wait to show you my new nail kit, I got it for my birthday and—”

Enid picked up one of my bags as she talked, unprompted, and made her way into Ophelia Hall, expecting me to follow.

She seemed to have grown over winter break. Her shoulders were broader, and her hair a little wilder. How many full moons had it been? How many new scars could she hide under makeup and clothing? I found myself more intrigued by her than I had been before, still thinking of the way blood dripped into her eyes as she saw me alive, tears mixing with dirt on her face.

I followed inside, grabbing the rest of my luggage stiffly. Perhaps the first mystery to solve was of my newfound obsession with Enid Sinclair. How quickly could her claws empty a human of its blood? How thrilling. My stalker could wait. If they tried anything I had a werewolf to protect me, after all.

[astral-schools]

I don't know what I will become. No one does. But for now, I am me.

happy one month of wallaru being out. i finished this like two days after the spoiler wall dropped on test realm and have just been sitting on it ever since.

[noodlepals]

Not me wanting to show anyone and everyone my characters and story before I've even got a complete rough draft written down sbsbsnnw

[acommonanomaly]

Me zooming in to paint details no one will see:

[spicybreadproductions]

when u don't wanna draw the whole character and they overlap lmao

LMAO they just look like something took a huge bite outta them

HAHAHAHHAHAH why is thi sso amusing

its called ✨ working smart ✨

[yousaytomato]

Hmm, learnt via the "following/mutuals" icon in the activity that someone who was definitely a mutual a few months ago isn't anymore.

And it's chill. It's fine. But I'm also a people pleaser and a worrier and I just want to be loved.

[lavellane]

ELSPETH COUSLAND, WARDEN COMMANDER OF THE GREY

There is no Ferelden son or daughter alive who does not know the name Elspeth Cousland. Though still walking amongst us in the world today, feat after impossible feat has elevated the Warden Commander's name to the heights of near myth. Like the Dwarven Paragons, Ser Aveline the chevalier, Dane and the werewolves and beloved heroes of old, the Highever woman known simply as Ella to her friends is regaled by taverkeep and teryn alike for her legendary exploits during the Fifth Blight. [template]

[Except from ‘Faces of the Dragon: Figures of Fame and Notoriety Throughout the Dragon Age’ by Brother Genitivi]  

[emblazons]

I was having a shit day & lowkey I'm still stressed af but!

I just had my yearly review, and on top of feeling v supported in my job...I just got a huge raise and my yearly bonus went up + I'm due for a potential raise again as early as April 2024. lmao god bless

[exitvelocities]

writing patterns

List the first and last sentence of your last 10 AO3 works.

stole this off @bbcphile just bc i wanted to do it. this goes back to like 2017 because i am not particularly prolific outside of fic meme fills.

01. everything grows stronger in the light, E, mysterious lotus casebook first: "this is biological warfare," di feisheng says, looming large over li lianhua's tiny kitchen table. last: he rubs his nose against di feisheng's collarbone, lulled by his partner's steady, even breathing, and drifts off.

02. darling, roll the window down, T, bad buddy fic meme dump first: in your third year, you take the train out to the ocean. last: you are alive and you are in love and you are here, where you belong.

03. like summer in your teeth, T, bad buddy first: In a fit of mild insanity, or maybe mild drunkenness, Wai invites Korn out for a drink. last: "Yeah," he says, thinking about summer at beach, sunlight through the blinds, and the sound of waves outside. "We have time."

04. boy tasting wild cherry, G, bad buddy first: somewhere along the way it becomes a tradition: a long weekend at the beach, just the three of them. last: it's more than enough.

05. kindling, T, bad buddy first: joint field training, they'd said, and so far that has meant sitting in a windowless room, waiting. last: then, "pran," he shouts, breaking into a run, and leaves both of them behind.

06. light a match, start a riot, M, bad buddy first: "joint operation," pran says, sounding entirely too cheerful for the time of day — or, really, night — "it's undercover work so we're sending wai. which one of you wants to volunteer?" last: korn kisses his palm. he can work with that.

07. i do not know where this love will take me, G, chihayafuru first: on their third night of cohabitation, arata kisses taichi in the narrow corridor of space between the kitchen and the bath and says goodnight like they've been doing it for years.  last: taichi takes a breath and knocks.

08. and you're no one's but mine, T, daiya no ace first: it's raining when youichi wakes up, the air in ryousuke's apartment close and humid. last: ryousuke's been on his own a long time and youichi hasn't got all the answers but he wants to learn, together, what it means to build a home.

09. but remember this, T, daiya no ace first: kazuya is roughly six years old when his mother vanishes into the balmy summer dusk. last: he's not uncertain now, feet steady on the path and heart steady in his chest, sure of his place and his way forward.

10. the shape of you, T, daiya no ace first: Ryousuke graduates from Seido almost exactly a month before his nineteenth birthday, cool spring sun shining down like a farewell benediction. last: He's still like a rocket sometimes, quick to take off, but they both know where he'll land, north-star-steady, compass true.

bonus: mysterious lotus casebook wip (current) first: in the end, what they find is a body. (current) last: regret or love or grief or hope, di feisheng has only ever laid claim to what he can carry.

patterns: there are two sets of related stories in here (the bad buddy fic meme fill/boy tasting wild cherry and kindling/light a match, start a riot) and both of them i consciously mirrored the opening of the previous work. i will probably refrain from doing that again seeing as i've done it twice now.

i tend to start in the middle of action with openings and, if not, there's an at least somewhat atmospheric scene setting sentence because atmosphere is extremely important to me. endings tend to be short and punchy (eg, a couple of these i included the last two sentences) or contemplative. not on show here, but for "things you said" meme fills i do tend to end on dialogue since that's kind of the point.

idk man, i write on vibes and instinctive grasp of grammar, i can give no advice about craft other than "don't give up." the main advantage of being a fandom old that's still writing is that, even when i don't like my own writing, i have a level of baseline competence that comes from having continued to write.

tagging @chlorophanes, do it if you wanna!

[turdofanerd]

this Linked Universe update has me wanting to make so much fanart holy cannoli

[xamaxenta]

Stresses me out alot that i cant physically bind anymore idk what happened in the last few years but any kind of compression hurts and it sucks it was the only thing i could do now i cant even do that

[neurofaggot]

I'm up too early. I went to a friend's party and by god I stayed too long talking and doing drugs fjdkfhjf (ITS 5AM!!! Hell on earth) BUT. I do want a little record of like. How absolutely nice these people were - I'd never met them before, and they were so like. Nice and accepting and we had soooo many chats about being transgender (this was like. All 40yr old cis men) and they were just great. Like yes I stayed wayyyyy too long but by god were they some of the nicest people ever. I love my job (I get to meet cool af people and do free drugs and have fun. Like it's perfect)

[weaponizedhorse]

People on TikTok are so dumb🤦‍♀️

Random TikTok user 1: are you a hypochondriac? Why do you wear a mask? Afraid you are catch a cyber bug?

Me: makes a video explaining why I wear a mask

Random TikTok user 2: why are you crying on social media about your problems no one cares about

Me:???

[chickadee-chariot]

Self congratulatory man in YouTube comments section asserts that "all humor comes from making fun of other races and genders." He styles his verbiage with an aura of geniality and ease, using familiar terms of address for complete strangers who disagree with him.

Those who have the gall to not only disagree, but to do so with perceptible indignation (or--heaven forbid--vexation!) are certain to be deemed far too irrational to hold meaningful conversation. Not to mention, the unspeakable rudeness of not adhering to the tone he has set for this interaction. That is, the proud proclamation of how little affected he is by what he considers humorous.

He wears his self-proclaimed "thick skin" like a badge of honor. He either does not know or does not let slip the fact that his skin is as thick as his understanding of humor is deep. His percieved great invulnerability is brought about not by any virtue of his own, but by his position on the metaphorical field of battle. He stands on a hill from which endless spears and boulders rain down. Below him, people wail as they pull each other free from bone-crushing rock. He bristles at their cries, as they interrupt his afternoon ruminations. A pebble, shaken free by the chaos, lands on his foot and he smiles at how his skin remains unbroken. Below him, red banners fly, still wet, drops whipping from their edges to land on his cheek. This is upsetting to him, he is not thinking of how to save any of them, he is thinking only of how to stop the noise.

The great secret, of course, is that he is already dead. He is a ghost, turning envious eyes on the people below, who have the audacity to bleed. He paces his island between rows of the dead, his hand itching for a stone.

[tittysuckersworld]

s eye guh hu(sigh), first time seeing beloved wool blanket talked about in fanfic and its in negitive connotation- so sorry wonderful scratchy blanket ill show you extra love for this betrail

[meejijis]

If I had a nickle for every time I got into a severely niche canon ships that has the trope gentle girl x brooding boys with spiky hair all while being the most lonely diehard shipper ever for both of these ships, I'd have two nickels

Which isn't alot but it's weird that it happened twice