#Increase Shed Height

[arolesbianism]

Wormwood hc hours

[lordprettyflackotara]

who’s afraid of little old me? || eyeless jack

smut minors dni 18+ ! tw: primal!eyeless jack, tall!cryptid!cannibal!reader, descriptions of gore/cannibalism, unrealistic predator/prey tendencies, blood kink, biting kink, breeding kink,squirting

full credits to @miss-multi45 for this concept <3

Strength. Skill. Stealth.

These were the traits that made Eyeless Jack believe he was at the top of the food chain. He had fought grizzlies before for fun, just to test his limits. The wolf pack that hunted in Slender woods steered clear of him. His scent was everywhere, along with the screams of his victims still echoing throughout the trees. Jack never had any issue hunting, a deer becoming a treat if campers hadn’t dared to wonder into the forest. With his heightened senses, he could smell or hear any living thing with no troubles. Truthfully the older he got, being an immortal cannibal was making him cocky. The self deprivation and depression was beginning to fade away. He was the best of the best. The only member of his kind. And better yet, he lived like a goddamn champion.

Hunting always put Jack in a good mood, the trill of the chase his favorite part. The potential of the victim, the variables he couldn’t control always made things so exciting.

So he did what he did best, shoving his scalpel in his hoodie and walking into the Slender forest. He was barely twenty feet in, when the sweet scent of metallics hit his nostrils. Jack frowned, lifting up his mask for a moment to deeply inhale. It wasn’t uncommon to smell blood in the forest, after all, Jack wasn’t ignorant enough to think the circle of life didn’t exist without him. But as he inhaled deeply, his eye sockets widened. Copious amounts of blood had been shed on his land and he hadn’t caused it. It could only mean one thing: there was an intruder lurking on his territory.

Not only were you lurking, you were hunting. You might as well have slapped Jack in the face. Jack gritted his teeth, darting into the direction of the scent. He zipped effortlessly through the trees, ignoring all of the curious gazes the forest’s creatures gave him as he zoomed by. Usually Jack stalked his prey effortlessly, he never ran unless he was chasing something. Little did those little chipmunks and squirrels know he was hunting, just something much more dangerous than normal. You.

When Jack had hit the clearing, that’s where he saw you. A secluded campsite that once sat in the open field was now painted crimson red. Tents were barbacilbly torn open, blood trails splattered across the grass. It was something straight out of a horror movie. Dont get him wrong, Jack loved horror movies. But only when he created them. He walked past the abandoned tents, the wind blowing past him only increasing the sweet stench of exposed organs. That’s when Jack saw you. As ethereal as the internet and story tellers had described. Your hair was long and luscious, braided down your back. Your eyes were bright and snakelike, the golden color focused on your meal. You held a young man in your grasp, the life drained from him ages before you had gotten him in this position. His eyes were lifeless, his body slumped over as you bit into his neck. Jack watched silently as you ripped out a chunk of flesh, chewing on it quickly before swallowing it. Jack was puzzled, were you even enjoying the flavor? He watched as you continued to eat the scraps of flesh that remained on the corpse. Blood trailed down your chin, thin splatters of the red liquid were drying across your cheeks.

“Are you going to stand there or are you going to join me?” You asked suddenly. You were very aware of Jack’s presence, the notion alone freaking him out. “I don’t dine with trespassers,” Jack stated plainly. He stepped fully into view, your eyes briefly flickering up and scanning him briefly. “You’re not human, what are you?” You asked. Jacks hands were tucked in his pockets, his height giving away his species. “I could ask you the same. Thought you were just a myth,” Jack replied cooly. You finally looked up from your meal, ignoring the dozens of other ripped apart corpses that laid between the two of you. “And I thought one could only have sight if they had eyes. I guess we both thought wrong,” You quipped. Jack tried to conceal the animalistic growl that boiled in the bottom of his throat. “Allow me to cut to the chase, you’re hunting on taken land,” Jack spat, venom placing his words. Curiously you rose to your feet, the demons eye sockets widening. You were just as tall as him, without shoes. You were bare foot, your long legs glimmering in the sunlight.

The pastel yellow sundress you wore was stained with dry and fresh blood, rising up just above your inner thighs. “The Operator owns this land,” You answered, slowly. It occurred to you that Jack may look human like, but his animal instincts were overriding any sense of humanity he had left. “Right, but I hunt here. My scent is everywhere, I know you smelled it when you decided to slaughter my cattle,” Jack snarled. You narrowed your eyes, momentarily blinded by one of the corpses being reanimated. The young woman was barely clinging to life, her intestines hanging loosely on the ground. Both of you could hear her shallow breathing. “Oh for fuck sake,” You mumbled, stepping over your previous meal. Jack growled, watching you pick up the slumped over body. You grabbed her neck, twisting it to the side. A sharp snap rung through out Jacks ears. “I like my organs fresh,” Jack snapped. You dropped the fresh corpse. Rolling your eyes, you straightened your back. “Her organs were quite literally coated in dirt, is that the freshness quality you were searching for?” You asked sarcastically. Jack’s patience was thinning. In a swift motion he took off his mask, baring his shark like teeth.

“Enough chit chat. I am an apex predator. You are quite literally no where near me on the food chain,” Jack yelled. You blinked, your mind spinning as you contemplated your next move. “Are you really afraid of little old me?” You questioned quickly. Should you laugh? He couldn’t quite possibly be serious right? “Um, I mean we can share the leftovers..?” You asked slowly, unsure how to respond to his animalistic behavior. Jack snarled, throwing himself at you. You were a threat. Jack knew how to handle threats, he did it for Slender on occasion. He was proficient in his ability to kill. Killing you was no exception. You narrowly dodged him clawing at you, his sharp claws ripping through your dress. He was huffing as you both watched the fabric fall to the ground. Shreds of the pastel yellow cloth hit the dirt, a cool breeze sending goosebumps across your freshly exposed skin. Jack’s eye sockets widened at the sight of your exposed breast, a creamy silk lingerie covering you. Jack couldn’t quite remember the last time he had given in to his primal urges to mate. He never considered a human being, due to the likelihood of him breaking them by mistake. But you, you were just like him in an odd way. Your breast were nice and perky, your cunt covered with a thin fabric that he could hardly consider to be undergarments.

He had anticipated you to rush to cover yourself, as the average person would do. But if anything you stood taller. “One minute you want to kill me, the next you’re staring at me like a pre teen boy. Are you bipolar?” You asked. Jack snickered at the question. “I’m a doctor, i’d know if I was bipolar,” He answered. Something about your unwavering confidence only made you more attractive. You were a threat surely, but you seemed to have much more potential as a mate. The primal urge to breed was clouding Jack’s judgment, his temporary territorial rage completely subsided. “I’m no doctor but i’d say you’re animalistic then human,” You say. Jack furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh really? How do you gather that?” He asked. You pointed at his pants, your hands still covered in fresh blood. “Your cock is straining against your jeans,” You say. Jack felt heat rush to his cheeks, before looking down. He hadn’t felt embarrassment for the first time in a long time. Yet here you were, flustering him beyond belief. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. I get the sense that neither of us have had the privilege of mating in a long time,” You said. Jack nodded, trying to seem cool and level headed. “May I make a proposal?” You asked.

Jack agreed, trying to keep his voice steady and even. “I’d say one thing we have in common is the fact we have pent up stress due to what we are. Now, I think leaving you these delicious leftovers as well as allowing ourselves to indulge in our more primal urges with one another is more than fair,” You offered. Jack ran the offer in his head, calculating all of the different possibilities. “And after you’ll leave?” He asked. You nodded affirmatively. “I never stay in one place for too long,” You answered. You walked towards the demon, bringing your index finger to under his chin. You lifted his head up, examining his neck. You could hear his pulse up close, it was beating much faster than the average human. “I will admit though i’ve broken my previous toys in the past. Are you sure you can handle me?” You questioned. Jack chuckled darkly, grabbing your wrist and moving your hand away. “I could ask you the same question,” He grinned. Quickly you brought your lips to his, allowing yourself to shudder under his warm touch as he grabbed your waist. His hands were large and warm, pulling you closer towards him. You could feel his aching boner as you kissed him deeply, the demon on cloud nine.

Your height complimented his if anything, his large hands grabbing your ass. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. The dampness of your panties was already soaking through, leaving a wet spot on his crotch. You whined as you bucked your hips against his, the demon unfazed by your height. You briefly pulled away, nibbling teasingly at his bottom lip. You tasted like blood, as well as faint bubblegum. “You’re stronger than I thought loverboy,” You complimented. Jack roughly brought you to the closest tent, your back hitting a forgotten sleeping bag. “Yeah? Let’s see how you handle me,” He replied smoothly. He kissed down your neck, purposefully nibbling at the sensitive skin. His hands wondered down to your hips, pulling apart what remained of your dress. “I assume you’ll be acquiring me some clothes?” You questioned. Jack shrugged off his hoodie, carelessly tossing it at your face. “Here, that should fit you,” He grunted. Tearing away your panties and tossing them aside, your bare slick drove the demon into a frenzy. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping them pried apart as as began to lap at your cunt.

Your hand instinctively flew down to his hair, tugging harshly at the roots as he stuck two of his tongues inside of your aching entrance. You gasped in surprise, moaning in delight as he curled them upwards. “At least that mouth is good for something,” You panted, grinding against his face. His third tongue flickered and swirled at your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. Your human lovers could never compete with this. He had been buried in between your thighs for mere minutes and you already could feel the knot in your stomach tighten. Jack grunted in response to your comment, delivering a sharp slap to your thigh. A whine escaped your lips, your thighs squeezing around his head. His tongues were merciless, your juices so delicious Jack found himself humping against the tent’s floor to help relieve his aching cock. He could feel your gummy walls squeezing his tongues, a concealed smirk spreading across his lips. You were just as delicious as the chaos you caused. You gave his hair one final tug, releasing all over his face.

Jack contained to lap at your slick until he deemed you clean. You were dazed, but repositioned yourself quickly. Your mouth was watering at the idea of sucking his cock. You’d never wanted something more. Jack quickly pushed you back down, the clinking of his belt sending a shiver down your spine. “Not this time. I can’t go another minute without being inside of you,” He snarled. His sudden dominance only made you more wet, his hands roughly shoving you into a mating press. Jack licked his lips as he pulled out his cock, slowly pushing it inside of you. You whined at the stretch, Jack not failing to notice your claws digging into his arms. “Not so big and bad now are we?” He teased. He let out a groan as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. The way you were gripping him, the way your nails were digging into his back. You wanted this just as bad as him. You needed this just as bad as him. He fully bottomed out inside of you, his tip brushing against your g spot. “Holy fuck,” You whimpered. Jack couldn’t help but grin devilishly as he slowly moved his hips. “It’s like you were made for me,” He grunted. He began to pick up the pace, snapping his hips into yours.

His thrust were rough and desperate, his body craving to release into yours. He had never felt such a raw and intense connection before, his body demanding more. “You’re mine, all mine,” Jack grunted. He continued to fuck you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasped at the sensation, a moan escaping his lips and being muffled by your skin as he sucked at your blood. The metallic taste was euphoric, your cunt squeezing him tighter as he marked you. “Fuck leaving. You’re mine. My mate,” Jack moaned. His thrust became more aggressive, his cock abusing your cunt as he claimed you as his own. You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head, your thighs shaking. “Oh my fucking- fuck! Jack!” You moaned. Jacks thrust were uncontrolled, his body demanding to fill your cunt to the brim. He released your neck, his three tongues lapping at the wound. “This feels nice huh? Being knocked down a peg?” Jack snickered. The feeling of your gummy walls milking him dry was euphoric, the demons orgasm coming closer.

“Gonna fill you up over and over and over. My little mate. Your pussy’s like goddamn heroin,” Jack rambler. You forced yourself to prop yourself up on your elbows, crashing your lips against Jack’s. “You talk too much,” You teased, nipping at his bottom lip. You groaned in his mouth as his cock abused your g spot, your eyes fluttering open as you squirted around his cock. Your juices coated his lower half, the demons hips finally stuttering and coming to a halt. His warm, thick cum flooded your cunt, filling you to the brim. You both were panting messes, Jack utterly surprised when you flipped the two of you over effortlessly. You straddled him, managing to keep his cock buried inside of you.

“So loverboy, wanna go for round two?”

You had so much stamina it was scary. Jack could see it in your eyes, you were ready to go as many rounds as he could do.

Maybe Jack should’ve been afraid of little old you.

[punksocks]

Signs Your on the Right or Wrong Path:

(Check your Moon sign, Mars sign, Ascendant, and/or North Node)

(Also wrong path behaviors tend to fit underdeveloped energy, so you may recognize these behaviors in low vibrational people with these placements)

Right path:

-Aries: You feel energetic, you may start working out more/doing more physical activities, you’re going on new adventures, pure enthusiasm, you’ve got a lot of new prospects, you still charge into situations and sometimes arguments but you avoid constant fighting and long term grudges

-Taurus: You’re making money/feeling abundant, you’re feeling creative, feeling satisfied with physical comforts (perfect meals, great self care, etc), feeling stubborn still but in a reasonable grounded way with a bit of flexibility

-Gemini: You’re quick on your feet, constantly coming up with new ideas, you’re winning a lot of verbal sparring matches/debates, suddenly absorbing a lot of new information, feeling like you’re in an intellectually stimulating environment

-Cancer: Emotionally at ease, feeling protective without being defensive, feeling at home with whatever loved ones you’re around, peaceful nostalgia, comfort in your environment/home life, being nurturing without forcing it, feeling more fertile (as straightforward as pregnancy but as all encompassing as getting a lot of new ideas or being great at cooking or growing a garden that blossoms, etc)

-Leo: Gaining attention effortlessly, increased self confidence/charisma, more creativity, getting more compliments than usual, feeling empowered and like your gettting the right amount of attention and feedback on a regular basis

-Virgo: Great productivity, being seen as reliable and supportive and being appreciated for it, getting to cross items off your todo lists, -less- anxiety and overthinking/finding ways to soothe this, improved mental health, your hygnine and routine improve and flow better, being supported and given space to rest and relax when you need to

-Libra: increased charm/beauty (a glow up essentially), peace in your social life, increased romance, getting more compliments than usual, ease in making choices, generally feeling more balanced, feeling more creative

-Scorpio: Being around people/a person you can actually really trust, being allowed to open up in your own time, great intimacy with passion and payoff and all that, transformations come easy-like shedding a second skin, feeling rewarded with safety in exchange for the vulnerability you do show, depth and understanding even if it’s only with one or two people

-Sagittarius: constant stimulation and exciting adventures (big or small), growing understanding and philosophies, more opportunities to travel and good things coming from travel, more opportunities to learn about cultures outside of your own, increased optimism and luck

-Capricorn: making money/long term investments & projects starting to pay off, clear and healthy skin, getting money from random places, your new ideas work out better than expected, gaining recognition for your hard work, elevating to new heights/gaining promotions at work, being able to carve out your own path of progress

-Aquarius: embracing your uniqueness and being celebrated for it, one of a kind ideas, feeling innovative, feeling good will and participating in humanitarian efforts, getting involved with the local community, embracing chaos and being rewarded for it, losing the desire to fit in.

-Pisces: good dreams, fluidity in daydreams and reality, new sparks for your creativity coming from your subconscious/good spiritual efforts, heightened clarity, peace of mind and tranquility coming more naturally, understanding what you process subconsciously and trusting your intuition more

Wrong path:

-Aries: Feeling lethargic/losing energy after short bursts, headaches, restlessness, constantly being stalled when you try new things, constant fighting with everyone and anyone that never seems to end

-Taurus: You’re losing money/abundance, you’re feeling rushed, you’re overindulging/binging on comforts- none of your luxuries fill the void, every hill is a hill you’re willing to die on (feeling especially stubborn)

-Gemini: You’re bored, feeling stuck, you’re having issues communicating (suddenly stuttering or drawing blanks, for example, you could even lose your voice), trouble learning and thinking, feeling like no one around you can match your intelligence

-Cancer: constantly manipulating emotions around you/your emotions being constantly manipulated, toxic codependency on family/loved ones, chest pains, yearning for the past and dissatisfaction with the present, lack of care, lack of fertility

-Leo: attention starved and you have to beg for others to pay attention to you, back pains, feeling like you only get attention at the wrong times/for the wrong things, a lot of envy/jealousy, acting out in bratty/diva ways, partying too much

-Virgo: overthinking (like you’re always going to overthink, but when it’s bad you cannot stop overthinking), uncontrollable anxiety, stomach aches, a lot of busy work with very little progress, endless to-do lists, sudden forced changes to your consistency/routine, being used for support and this being thankless, insane levels of restlessness

-Libra: Loss of appeal (not being ugly but finding your charm and general appeal towards others works less than it usually does), being depressed/uninspired about your looks, feeling like all your connections are shallow/loss of romance, being surrounded by conflict, finding it impossible to make decisions, loss of creativity

-Scorpio: feeling like -something- is off and not being able to shake that feeling (something probably is off, trust your gut), feeling like you need to guard your secrets/yourself with your life, gossip and rumors about you coming from your inner circle, intimacy that doesn’t feel worth it, you or others trying to bar you from changing & transforming, shallow connections, repeating cycles of toxic behavior

-Sagittarius: Boredom/stagnancy, shutting down discussions/learning by being too blunt, close mindedness in general, feeling stuck or cagey, environments that lack cultural stimulation, sudden bouts of bad luck/things falling apart

-Capricorn: losing money/going over budget, business ventures failing, skin problems/breakouts, drowning in work but not being able to finish any of it, being stuck in toxic systems/patterns of behavior, being controlled/dominated, having your ambition capped/hitting a glass ceiling of some sort in your goals

-Aquarius: conformity/changing your identity or ideals to conform to others, feeling cold/too disconnected towards others (like seeing people as a problem to solve instead of individuals to help), calculating behavior in general, lack of ingenuity/out of the box ideas, being too rooted in the past/how things once were

-Pisces: nightmares, not being able to tell the difference between reality and daydreams, increased problems with mental illness, being triggered uncontrollably by your subconscious, dealing with more illusions and lies, creativity stalling, romanticizing your connections and the people around you (seeing depth where there is none or vice versa)

[littlefireball]

WY|Shower S*x (F/M)

ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ x ɢɪʀʟꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ|ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴏᴛ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ᴡᴀʟʟ ꜱᴇx|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴀᴅ|ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 770~

"Wooyoung?" You heard the toilet door creak open and turned to see Wooyoung removing his clothes, a frown etched on his face.

"What's wrong, Wooyoung?" you asked, concerned. Without a word, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around your naked waist, resting his head on your shoulder. "Everything sucks" he whispered softly.

You gently stroked his head in response, offering him the comfort of your touch in the midst of his silent distress. He tenderly kissed your nape, savoring the droplets and softly caressing your skin. His hand slid down to your clit, gently tapping, silently seeking permission. "Can you give me that, Y/N?" You turned to him, meeting his lips in a tender kiss, guiding his hand to pleasure you.

Your lips met like a gentle breeze through petals, conveying a deep sense of love and tenderness that touched your souls like the softest thread, soothing the wounds in Wooyoung's heart. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, his warm chest pressing against your back.

The noise of the shower faded, leaving only the sounds of kisses and soft moans. This kiss was different, not fueled by lust, but by a mutual need for comfort. His kiss held unspoken emotions of sadness and longing, but your tenderness and love enveloped him, providing warmth and solace.

He swiftly turned you around, pressing your back against the wall, the water from the shower cascading over both of you. A soft moan escaped your lips as his lips met yours, his arm encircling your waist as he buried his head in the curve of your neck. His hardened length nestled between your thighs, teasing your entrance and igniting a fiery desire within you.

With no hesitation, and without breaking the passionate kiss, he entered you, the water aiding in the slickness of the intimate connection. Your body reacted with a mixture of pleasure and surprise, a whimper escaping your lips as you arched against him. He withdrew slightly, only to plunge back in with a forceful thrust, sending waves of ecstasy through you.

The symphony of skin meeting skin, the rush of water, and the intoxicating sounds of your shared desire filled the air. His lips left a trail of kisses from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a trail of crimson marks on your damp skin.

"I need more," he declared as he flipped you over once again, his words punctuated by the force of his entry. Your screams of pleasure filled the room as he pinned your hands above your head, his fingers intertwined with yours. There was no mercy in his thrusts, only raw passion and intensity.

Each thrust drove you to new heights of ecstasy, his every movement hitting that perfect spot deep within you. Your knees grew weak, your energy draining with each powerful motion.

Gone was the sadness and loss from before, replaced entirely by a primal desire. Your moans were like a symphony to his ears, stirring something deep within his soul. Your warmth enveloped him, bringing him a sense of peace and contentment. You were his everything, his perfect paradise.

"I'm cumming," he gasped, increasing his pace and gripping your waist tightly. His head fell back as he reached his peak, his loud moans filling the air. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach, your heart racing as you both reached the pinnacle of pleasure. As you climaxed together, his release mixed with your own, filling you completely and leaving a trail of ecstasy in its wake.

The sound of the shower ceased, leaving only the echo of your breathing in the bathroom. He moved forward twice before withdrawing. Leaning his head against the nape of your neck, he whispered, "Thank you, babe... I don't deserve you..." "Why do you say that?" You turned to face him, gently cupping his face, and met his red eyes that seemed to have shed tears for hours.

"You're amazing, you know? You did so well. I'm always proud of you." Those simple words touched him deeply. He embraced you tightly, resting his head on your chest like a child seeking comfort. "Let's clean up and cuddle, okay?" You said softly, and he nodded in agreement.

He slowly drifted off to sleep in your arms, feeling all his worries melt away in that moment. Having you by his side was his greatest joy.

[luverine]

Caged Animal

Yandere (M) Hybrid x (F) Reader

0.8k words Part 2 Part 3

TW: bad writing, abuse, old men, drugs?, hunger, blood

(This was some nonsense I came up with bored at work nothing serious!!)

MDNI!!!!

ID: 187904 (Zaki)

Age: 23-27

Gender: Male

Species: Lupinian

Height: unturned 5’9 / turned 6’8

Weight: unturned 175 lbs / turned 260 lbs

Description: Medium tan skin, dark brown overgrown buzz cut hair, dark brown/ black eyes, scar from cheek to chin on right side of face, scar from mid waist around to mid back, missing left pinky finger, lean build.

Triggers: Men, loud noises (beeping), black lab coats.

Note: Violent against men, especially older men. Wears muzzle for appointed checkups and while being fed.

Removed from the environment when cleaning the room.

Always have a shocker on you while handling patient.

Doesn’t talk.

Never give eye contact.

…

“You get all at’? The son of a bitch’s a handful.” An overweight man puffing a cigarette says. “Annoying too, We’ve gone through every caretaker in rotation and nothing he nearly killed all of em”

Looking down at the paper skimming over its contents. You nod “I never worked with any of the projects here though, I prep medicine and surgical equipment. What made you think I could take this on?” You asked unsure.

“We're runnin’ outa options it’s either you or the custodians. At least you have some experience.” The man puffed out.

“Well, does my pay increase? Concerned for your life you ask.

“Nah, we don’t have enough funds sorry girl.” He replies

You huff a little annoyed you're probably going to die for minimum wage. “What’s his room number I’ll go there at dinner time”

“First level of quadrant C, 316. Can’t be missed.” The man says. “Make sure he gets extra for dinner; he's been a good boy.” The man chuckles, placing the cigarette back in his mouth.

…

“Ugg gross!”

The raw meat is slimy, smells fishy, and a deep brown color.

“This has to be rotten” You make a disgusted face at what you're about to feed this poor experiment.

Room 316.

You walk towards it with your cart of meat, water, and a small fluffy blue blanket.

You give the door operator a nod. The door unlocks and you wheel inside to another door. You wait a moment and tap the door three times and card swipe the door open.

Inside is a man curled up in the corner. His arms and legs, at least what you can see, are covered in bandages. The bottom of his feet are caked in blood. You step in the room and he growls.

Sighing you grab his tray of food and a water canister. You set the items on the metal table that extends from the wall. You slide back over towards the door, it opens and you step out back into the little hallway. You grab the small fluffy blanket and card back into the room.

His back is to you it’s obvious he doesn’t want you in here. “187904” He lets out a deep growl.

“Here, take the blanket. You’re going to have to get used to me at some point I’m going to be your caregiver, I guess” you mutter.

“Don’t call me that…” the wolf man replies, his voice deep it unsettles you.

“Call you what? 187904? ” You ask.

“…” He sat up with his hand held out expecting you to drop the fluff into his hand.

Extending your arm out to hand him the small blanket. You back away immediately when he snatches it and pulls it toward his face. His nails are sharp with a black tip that you can’t make out to be dried blood or not.

“Uh…here you go guy..?”

“Zaki.” He grunted out.

“That’s um… nice name Zaki.” You say to the wall. His eyes were burning holes into the side of your face, but you knew better. He’d tear you to sheds if you looked into them.

He grunts, turning away from you once more you take it as your queue to leave.

The door slides closed and you shuffle the cart out of the room and into the actual hallway.

…

I sniff the air. “Hmm”.

Getting up off the floor, I walk to the table.

WHAT THE FUCK!

Everything is rotten, the meat has turned to brown jelly . The smell is taking over the whole room and suffocating me.

Growling I pick up the rotting slime and slam it into the camera covering it from being visible. Wiping my hand on the wall. I huff and lay back into the corner curling around the blanked. “She smelled good” I murmur, trying to ignore the growing hunger and just sleep it off.

…

“Good to see ya alive. Report to me, how was the big bad wolf?” The man asked, puffing out smoke.

“It was fine, I admit scary, but he didn’t do or say much.” You say

The man chuckles “It’s either that or ya become his lunch, be glad he ignored ya it means he likes you.” Huffing out more smoke and shooing me off with his hand.

You walk out of his office “what a dick” I murmur. Heading to the main building to go to your locker and pick up your bag.

You head home knowing the same bullshit will welcome you tomorrow.

A/N: Bullshit mentioned!!! I have really bad writers block so I’m posting this old work. Let me know if you want more of this dope. The monster fic is taking wayyyy longer that I thought (sorry and cya)

[petitesmafia]

saw a take that claimed “Dazai wouldn’t sit at Chuuya’s grave” and i disagree. not even in a ship type of way, but i think Dazai definitely would— he would sit there for hours to talk shit like “day 1 living in a slug-less paradise! i ran into the most vicious small dog today. i see your spirit lives on.” 

“day 30 in this blissful, Chuuya-free utopia: hey slug, did you know? The national average for height in young men increased after you kicked the bucket. like significantly.”

"day 67 of beautiful peace and harmony bc you’re not here to ruin my day: remember that shop that sold those atrocious hats you always bought? they came out with a new design today and i almost shed tears of gratefulness knowing i would never have to see you wearing it. truly thankful."

"day 365. happy one year anniversary of becoming dirt! i slept great last night. came here just to say: remember when you laughed at me for going to prison? saying 'good luck getting out of that box'? well good luck getting out of yours! who's laughing now!"

skk's need to annoy each other runs DEEP. i'm telling you Dazai would show up to Chuuya's grave OFTEN bc "you really think you can escape me by dying? you think i'll let you rest peacefully? not a chance. in fact i hope you’re rolling in there. i will see to it personally"

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could you do Yandere Neige realizing his newborn doesn’t like him and it’s not just their baby missing Y/N?

Yandere Neige Leblanche | With A Baby Who Hates Him

The nursemaid winces at another primal twang in the child’s wail as she finished packing her things. Looking sympathetically at the actor she couldn’t help but pity him. 

It must be hard losing the love of your life during such a stressful time, she thought letting herself be escorted out by the dwarven bodyguards. 

The actor frowned at the infant in his arms continuing to wail into the night. Neige Leblanche didn’t do that often. Before now he had no reason not to smile; everything had gone his way. He married the love of his life, supported them, even had this child with them; not to mention his soaring career. Granted in the reaches of his mind he can recall his love’s…complaints. 

“Shhh Shhh, sleep my love sleep. Please.”

If it were possible the infant’s cries increased and the smile he had been shining down upon the bundle was beginning to quiver. His pale hands shook with the constant contorting of a baby’s face as the crying continued. He set them down; pulling his hands away as the tiny hands swiped at his. 

What had he done to deserve this? He thought, tilting his head as he watched the beady (e/c) irises squinting without tear-ducts. Ruminating to the howling soundtrack he found no answer until that letter came to mind:

"It’s Your Fault"

The scathing letter—your last letter would forever be etched into his mind. A reminder of the complaints that riddled their speech.

“ Just let me go.”

It was something they said often despite the reality. Therapists in agreement all could testify that Neige Leblanche would never do such a thing; as he had testified many times before. His love was hysterical but that was no obstacle for his affection. Thus he withstood their complaints even though the world was in agreement with him. 

He was a good man. The perfect man. Or so they said–because his love continued to protest. They were insistent that he was a monster and that he had drove their “friends” away. For which he had, on the defense that they were delinquents and they were. What friends kidnap one another and require police intervention? Not good ones, that’s for sure. Alas he could never blame you, even he could be fooled by who he thought was a friend. Under the conviction of his fanbase he discovered the violent tendencies of a coworker he once held dear. 

He reached for his child again. Pulling him into his chest only to be stopped by the persistent miniature hands. Pushing at his chest, Neige couldn’t help but be reminded of the one who did the same gesture.

“Stay away from me!”

 Now he could recall where he’d felt this rejection. Where he grew used to hands pushing at his chest and neverending protests. Only now could he recall the tears shed in the height of hysteria as he withheld his intervention. Thosed loved hands continuing to swat at him—they always did even as Neige united with them under the watchful eye of the concerned public. It never ended. A constant barrage of pain through insult and injury. Relentlessly fighting against the love of their life, they only stopped when they died. 

But why? Why? Why was this child the same? At barely a year this baby is trying to reject him just like you. What caused this? Your absence? His presence? Even in the solitude of the nursemaid and dwarves the child was still crying, reaching for something beyond. Could it have been you? Reaching back to him to say something. 

Than why this? Why must he watch helpless as the only survivor of the love-of-his-life starves themselves into an early grave. Neige couldn’t find a reason as to why he must be pained so…only vaguely thinking of his actions as the cause. 

Unaware of the way he smothered those similar protests with his rose-tinted view. Led the way for the wolves to tear and break down his adversaries–he claimed he never had. Letting screams of isolation go through one ear and out the other; as he was justified in his actions. A cycle of injustice had been built and Neige was completely oblivious to his true role. 

So now he could only shed tears at this travesty.

Completely unaware that this was his punishment and he was going to serve every second of it.

[posletsvet]

Satoru Gojo and the Infinity That Sets Him Apart

Throught the flashback arc that opens JJK'S second season, the story goes to great lengths to make us sympathize with Geto. We are privy to the inner workings of his mind when he faces personal catastrophes of his youth, and it grants us a profound insight into how his mental/emotional state deteriorates in response to a painful realization that later comes to define his entire life. Gege found a way to turn Geto's tendency to internalize his experiences into a narrative tool, the mechanics of his Cursed Technique becoming an apt metaphor for it, and that's one truly astonishing writing.

But what about Gojo? After all, it's his memories that play out before our eye as he daydreams, and Geto is no longer an active force in the narrative, so the arc should be introduced in the first place to shed some light on Satoru's character and highlight certain aspects of it. However, while the narrative goes out of its way to humanize Geto by exposing his interiority to the audience, it seems to bit by bit deny readers access to Gojo's mind until Satoru is entirely closed off emotionally at the end of Hidden Inventory Arc. From that point on, any reading of his words and actions can be as good as the other since personal interpretation is all that is left to us to try and understand what lies behind the appearances (I guess that's precisely why there are so many widely different, conflicting interpretations of Gojo out there). What process Gojo's character undergoes throughout his past arc is, essentially, dehumanization.

Let's take a look at Gojo as he is in the main, present timeline. Pretty much as any other person in Gojo's vicinity, the audience can only observe him from the outside, always held at an arm's length away from his interior thoughts and emotions. Whenever we do get an insight into his mind, it's mostly for a solely practical purpose of keeping the readers informed about the direction which the fight is about to take, with Satoru's internal monologues consisting almost completely of him dryly strategizing against his opponents.

Even Gojo's design is set to dehumanize him, teasing the audience with how much it conceals and how little it allows us to derive from what we see. Plain black clothes, long sleeves, long trousers, high collar. Barely any skin exposed, scarce detail, completely colourless expression. To crown it all, his blindfold -- we do not get to see his eyes. Eyes mirror the soul, they communicate emotion which our words fail to. Eye contact is a primal tool of non-verbal communication because of how much our eyes alone can give away about our feelings. With Gojo's eyes perpetually hidden under his ever-present blindfold, there's an additional layer of protection, another hindrance to our understanding of his state of mind. A simple piece of cloth adds to the distance preventing access to Gojo's direct perspective, as impenetrable as trying to look through a blindfold would be for anyone but Gojo himself. The same could be applied even to his height: people around him are required to reach up with their gaze in order to look him in the face. Once again, this choice in his design strives to communicate one thing: you cannot meet him at his level, there is a palpable distance between where he stands and where you are. Everything about Gojo feels almost impersonal, evasive, further increasing the extent of his alienation.

There's an interesting connection found between Gojo's technique, his need to cover his eyes and the narrative distance that does not allow us to get any closer to his character. It's precisely when Gojo puts his mind to perfecting his usage of the Limitless that an unbreachable impediment settles between him and the people around, resulting in him and Geto from that point on being forever unable to get through to each other. With his technique taking a toll on his body by becoming more overwhelming to use after such a rapid increase in power, it's also when Gojo starts to wear his shades all the time. And whereas before we were allowed to look past the tanned spectacles and see his eyes, read the emotion in them, now we're denied even that much. It's probably a short after Geto's defection when Satoru switches to a blindfold, indicating how he completely shuts off emotionally. Just as Geto's Curse Manipulation stands as a metaphor for him repressing his feelings till the breaking point, Gojo's mental state is reflected through the physical appearance, too. Him physically distancing himself from everything within the world around him with his Limitless technique sustaining an uncrossable invisible barrier around him and his blindfold hiding his eyes from the viewer is also how his emotional detachment is established on the meta level of the narrative.

Since Geto's defection, Gojo's defenses are breached in the main timeline just once, and that is during Shibuya Incident Arc. It's barely a coincidence that, as the Limitless falls short and the ever-present physical distance is crossed sharply with the Prison Realm reaching Gojo, the emotional distance is immeadiately eliminated, too.

All defenses down and the memories of his youth flooding through the cracks, Gojo suddenly isn't numb to all the hurt of his past mistakes and what it cost him and the people around him; all the ache of losing his best friend not once but twice and being utterly unable to do anything about it still weighs on him. Neither is numb to all of it the reader, not anymore. The narrative 'catches up' to Gojo at this moment. It was an alienating, almost inhumane experience to never get a sight of Gojo's emotions when it mattered the most, at the pivotal events of his life which come to shape him as a character and as a person. We were simply denied that intimacy. But with Satoru's physical body made within reach and his mind suddenly transparent, laid bare, the delayed heartbreak is alive and present as ever. The weakness of his human heart is exposed, but it required crossing the Infinity to get to his heart.

The physical distance is only breached because the emotional one is eliminated beforehand. However, we finally get to catch a glimpse of Gojo's true feelings because something within the world was able to reach him physically, penetrating through his Limitless technique. The two are the sides of the one coin, they go hand in hand within the narrative, ultimately rendered inseperable by it. At the end of the day, the body is the soul and the soul is the body.

I've started writing all this well before the spoilers for the last chapter came out, but what we see in it, at least how I personally take it, speaks in favour of pretty much everything I've been talking about above. It's somewhat notorious how little emotional impact Gojo's fight against Sukuna lands. Until now. Until Gojo's Infinity utterly fails to prevent his body from taking the damage. Once again we gain insight into his interiority the instance he's physically exposed to the world. With Gojo's invulnerability ultimately overcome, the narrative grants us access to his inner feelings and thoughts one last time. Satoru's heart is an aching wound split open one last time.

[batsclass101-blog]

Brick On The Head - Part 1

—————

Tim sipped his coffee and ticked off another mark in his log. He smirked to himself while pondering how long it would take his family to notice the change. Sometimes he took far too much pleasure in outwitting them. Alfred of course already had noticed the change in Tim’s height and weight. However, it had taken a week before the butler had mentioned it.

He’d always heard that growth spurt could be sporadic but he’d already accepted he was going to be short. Surprisingly… he’d been proven wrong and now found himself towering at six foot four.

It first showed up when he’d become ravenous. The increase in appetite had extended to raiding the fridge. Tim wouldn’t openly admit it, but he’d come to enjoy the extra attention Alfred had been showing him. Extra batches of cookies, special snacks slipped to him and the time to sleep. He’d never known sleep could feel so good. Alfred had been particularly smug every time he had caught Tim dozing.

All the little clues had led Alfred to the conclusion of Tim’s growth before the rest. He’d kept out of sight for a month or two, even shortened his patrols. Alfred had insisted when leg cramps and full body pain had caused Tim’s high pain tolerance to buckle.

“A growing boy needs rest, Master Timothy. If you choose to act foolishly, I shall inform-“

“Fine! I’ll cut patrol back a bit. But you get to give Bruce the excuse.”

It had been worth it. Tim had spent the extra hours wisely when his patrol was cut back. He’d cracked dozens of cold cases, reorganized files on the bat computer and most importantly he’d remained seated in the presence of his family.

The commitment to hiding his growth hadn’t slipped past Alfred. Often Tim had shared a small grin with the family butler. It was nice to get the best of the others… and Alfred was always the best ally.

A knock on the door broke Tim from his thoughts.

“Master Timothy, might I enter?”

“Yes, Alfred.”

“I believe your new suit is ready.” Alfred’s tone was one of approval. “You’ve outgrown the other.”

Tim swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew Alfred was speaking of Robin… Red Robin and even Drake. He’d put months into thinking this identity out. He’d picked a name his brothers couldn’t mock… well they’d find a way. He’d chosen a name. It was time.

Gently he took the box from Alfred and slipped into his bathroom. It took a few moments but he slid the new costume over his frame. He turned to glance in the mirror and a grin flirted across his face.

It incorporated the wing-like cape from his old Red Robin costume but the coloring was changed. Smiling he stepped out while applying his domino.

“Well… how does it look?”

Alfred was silent as he stared at his charge. Tears prickled the old man’s eyes. Young Timothy had shed the colors of his youth.

Tim’s new costume consisted of black pants still, but a line of muted green flanked down the sides. His wing-cape was almost completely black until it was spread. Underneath, a vibrant orange-red banded across the wings and tapered off into a muted tones. The shirt of the costume had adopted a matching muted green to compliment the stripes on his pants. His utility belt had remained black and his bandoliers a matching black.

“The colors of a Robin.. but a different bird completely.” Tim grinned.

“I quite agree. Might I ask your name, Master Tim.”

“Kea (KAY- yah).”

“Ah, very suiting indeed. One of the most intelligent birds.” Alfred’s lips twitched.

“And no one can say it sounds more feminine than Robin… So, can I head out without alerting everyone? I’d like to meet them all.”

“I cannot say I approve of tormenting them all… but I do have some things to do.”

“Thanks Alfred!” Tim dashed off. He couldn’t wait to see everyone’s reactions when they finally got a good look at him.

————-

Pt 2

[o-craven-canto]

Recent evolutionary adaptations to the environment in human populations, from Going global by adapting local: A review of recent human adaptation (Fan et al., 2016). The icons show the type of adaptation recorded in various parts of the world, and the acronyms besides (e.g. EDAR1) are the names of the involved genes. Also see Genome-wide detection and characterization of positive selection in human populations (Sabeti et al., 2009), Population Genomics of Human Adaptation (Lachance & Tishkoff, 2013).

Some examples are:

Lactase persistence in Europe, Near East, and East Africa, allowing the digestion of milk in adult age (by default, the lactase required to digest milk sugar would only be produced by infants; this was just a matter of removing a timed switch).

Similarly, greater production of amylase, which breaks down starch, is reported in Europe and Japan (diet based on farmed grains) and among the Hadza of Tanzania (diet based on starchy tubers).

Improved conversion of saturated into unsaturated fatty acids in the Arctic Inuit peoples. This makes it easier to live on a diet of fish and marine mammals in an environment where plant food is scarce.

Smaller stature ("defined as an average height of <150 cm in adult males") in the "pygmy" peoples (Aka and Mbuti) of Central Africa, and other hunter-gatherer peoples in equatorial Asia and South America. This helps shed heat in a hot humid climate where sweat does not evaporate.

More efficient fat synthesis in the Samoa, helping with energy storage at the price of more risk of obesity or diabetes with a richer modern diet.

Improved resistence to malaria, sleeping sickness (trypanosome), and Lassa fever in Subsaharan Africa. Fighting off against parasites is especially difficult (since unlike the inorganic environment, parasites also evolve), so this resistence often comes at a cost, such as anhemia, but is still a great advantage on net. Some improved resistence to arsenic poisoning is noted in an Argentinian population.

Denser red blood cells on the Andean, Ethiopian, and Tibetan highlands, to carry more oxygen which is scarcer at high altitude. I recall from elsewhere that this might increase the risk of thrombosis or strokes due to obstructed blood vessels.

Less melanin (which blocks UV light) and therefore lighter skin color in Eurasia. Melanin shields skin cells from damage due to UV radiations, but some UV light is necessary for the synthesis of vitamin D.

A change in the gene EDAR1, resulting in denser head hair, slightly different tooth shape, and fewer sweat glands (all skin annexes), appears strongly selected for in East Asia, but as far as I can find the advantage of this mutation is still unknown.

From another article (Ilardo et al., 2018): the Sama Bajau people of Indonesia, who have a long tradition of free-diving in apnea, seem to have developed larger spleen to store more oxygenated blood during dives.

[tiredsurvivoronmain]

Hi!! I love your Lycan Chris art omg. LFMSLKJ was wondering how'd he become a Lycan in your mind? Or some Lycan!Chris headcanons in general?? Feel free to ignore just curious! Ty!

Thank you!! ;w; I haven't figured out how he became a Lycan yet; maybe sometime before the events of RE8 when he and his team were investigating the village Chris gets jumped by a Lycan and bitten however because he's been dealing with numerous BOWs for nearly 25 years his natural resistance for viruses and genetics has mutated, his body is capable of tanking the virus and is compatible with it. There may be a connection to Wesker and his enhanced immunity but I'm working on it.

When he doesn't fully turn he goes to look for Rebecca to consult her privately (to avoid the BSAA finding out). She takes blood samples to analyse and create a vaccine or a suppressor so he doesn't fully turn and lose himself to the virus.

But for now he has to deal with it on his own.

His height increases to 7ft and can move on all fours when going full 'beast' mode; he sort resembles a hybrid of a lycan and a Varcolac

He can't always control the transformation but he's still mostly in control of his thoughts, emotions and actions, but the urge to bite someone and pass on the virus is still there so he has to be fully aware of what he's doing at all times and not accidently bite someone.

The way he transforms acts the same way as a cat extending and retracting it's claws; his finger nails grow into claws and back to fingernails, fur grows rapidly all over his body (the neck in particular has thick fur like a wolf's) and sheds, excess enamel grows (making the teeth pointed) then breaks off, ears become pointed then rounded again, muscle mass increases and decreases etc.

Has high speed regeneration and can survive a headshot

Can run up to 25-30mph

His strength increases drastically; strong enough to throw a truck 30ft

When in beast mode his bite is strong enough to remove heads and tear off limbs

His sense of smell and hearing is enhanced which can make it difficult for him to concentrate (overstimulated by sounds and scents)

Stroking the fur on his neck has a calming effect on him (should someone think to do that)

Becase his body size increases he will usually take his clothes off to avoid ruining them. He'll try to keep his underwear on if he can but sometimes he'll have to resort to going nude. Thankfully the fur gets thicker around his crotch so his bits are mostly obscured.

[demonanastasi]

Dear fellow adhders:

It is okay to sleep among the pile of clothes you left on your bed because your brain was done with putting away laundry after you put away everything leading up to that.

The dirty dishes surrounding and resting in the sink are well to be there. You needn't wash any of them until you need a specific dish, at which only wash what you need to use immediately. Or, simply eat off a paper towel or wax paper or drink straight from the container in the fridge. If dishes are developing mold, let them be; they can be cleaned when you are mentally ready to clean them.

If there is an unpleasant smell and you can't clean to attend to it, use a good-smelly to ease your mind, and clean when you are ready (good-smellies i.e. lighting candles or incense to make the room smell nice, spraying fragrances on your clothing or comfort plushies so you are not traipsing or cuddling perturbed).

Caffeine is your friend, and utilize sugar for dopamine.

If autism is comorbid, engage in your special interests liberally to be infused with the joy and energy that dopamine you get from it brings regularly. Playlists of special interest songs/songs pertaining to/reminding you of your special interests are a passive boon that boosts spirits and energy. Place illustrations/pictures/etc. reminders of your special interests around your home so when your distractible mind ganders, you get a boost of dopamine.

Above all other things in life, focus on dopamine maintenance. Our brains have a natural deficiency in dopamine generation compared to neurotypical brains, so we must meet their baseline first before doing the things they do without issue. Truly, dopamine is the key. Getting that need met allows all the rest to fall into place -- not in a neurotypical way, but in an adhd (/audhd) way. Our lives won't be the same as neurotypical lives. Why should we compare our lives to theirs? Why should we feel externally-imposed shame for how we lead our lives? We shouldn't. We should never.

Point of this post is, shame has no place in adhd lives. We can carry out our existences in peace in our messy surroundings. Dishes remaining by the sink, with some washed and others not. Unswept floors, cat hair accumulating in corners. Laundry increasing in height in the basket. Stepping over a paper that is to be thrown away only when we are ready. A zen life in an abode neurotypicals would judge negatively and make demands of.

Our homes are not to be demanded of, realms of peace they are.

Sincerely, an audhd man who is making it on his own and leading a relatively peaceful and stable life, thanks to honoring his brain's natural ways and orchestrating his life within that innate framework rather than one alien constructed and placed before him. Shedding the judgments cast down by others in his past. It's a work in progress, unlearning the forced shame that causes us to feel distressed and useless (when we are not!) but I am close.

Don't try to lead a neurotypical life. Lead a YOU life.

We must all relearn peace for ourselves.

Attain peace, and freedom from neurotypical judgment, and pursue the dopamine like your life depends on it.

Because our lives do 💚✨

[imaginedreamwrite]

Entirely Unconventional

Part 11: A Small Conversation & A Long Trip

The weight of his hand on your chin, the warmth, and strength of his hand has lingered well into the following hours and days. The firm grip he had on you, the illustrious way he had pushed you back against the door frame and held you there, it had changed something in you.

You felt like Mr. Darcy flexing his fingers as he walked away from his great love, Elizabeth Bennet. A single touch, a single grasp and you were left breathless without the ability to speak. You felt so enraptured by a single touch that it had lingered there in the back of your mind. Likewise, you had been brought to a new and invigorating place in this whole bond that fate had made for the three of you.

That single clutch of your chin had been flush and overrun with thick tension, both sexual and emotional. The ties and bonds that held the three of you together had grown, they had become stronger and more impenetrable.

That single moment, where he had trapped you against him and the doorway, had unlocked something. It was a moment where you had first truly acknowledged his size and how massive he was compared to you.

Even without his tactical gear on that added depth and increased mass, he was broad chested with staggering height, alluding to his place as a man who could strike fear with the smallest measure. Even without the weaponry attached, he was a deadly force.

However, once had added that gear, the Kevlar vest with holsters for his different weapons, and whatever other tools he had taken with him, he had become even more of a force to be reckoned with. He was deadly, like the rest of his soldiers, and yet if you had seen both Ghost and Johnny on the street without knowing them, only Ghost’s appearance could have really sent you to the grave. There was something about him that would have just struck fear into the deepest part of you, if you had seen him without knowing him prior.

Although even knowing him as your soulmate and knowing him now, you were starkly reminded of Em’s warning. They were war criminals, they had killed people, they had done things neither of you could have imagined. Their lives as soldiers were nothing compared to the fairytales about knights in shining armour.

They had taken lives, they had shed blood. Regardless of how indispensable you and Em were to Johnny, Konig and Simon, they were inherently not good people.

They’re not good people, but they’re good men. In the right context. Em’s voice was a reminder, a steady hand of sorts to remind you that being paired with men like this was a struggle in its own. Even Johnny, as good as he seemed, was not without his demons.

And Simon Riley, Konig, they had more than you knew.

Regardless of that warning, of that siren in the back of your mind that warned you how dangerous, and deadly they could be, you were still affected heavily by them. They had awakened something inside of you, some kind of deeply seeded desire that you’d never felt before. None of which had been more apparent than when he had pushed you against the doorframe and held your chin.

A single grasp, an indelible stain that would remain on you forever. That is what he had done to you, that was Ghost’s mark. That was what he had left you with, when he was gone with Johnny, he had left you his inerasable mark.

That was all you could think of when you had started your last shift before your three-week vacation. With that feeling, phantom warmth as it was, on your flesh, you had allotted much of your thoughts and mental space to how that had felt. It was increasingly evident that you were losing yourself to your soulmates. And it felt damn good.

It was all you could think of, on that last night. You had worked well through to the last quarter without incident or rising occasion from your soulmates until your final break. Despite you thinking of the way his hand felt, or how Konig’s voice was comforting to you, they were relatively quiet.

They had remained observant but silent, allowing you some relative peace. Whether that was to spare you grisly details of what they may have been doing, or whether it was to give you some peace as you worked, it was quiet.

However, as you were counting down the last few minutes before your last break, your expectations of solitude had been squandered. You were behind the desk finishing up the last few notes of a chart you were working on when the phone rang to your left. Like usual, you picked up the receiver and tucked it between your shoulder and your ear, speaking in a clear and concise manner.

“Harkrow county hospital, just letting you know there’s no doctor tonight. If this is an emergency, you need to head to the city hospital-“

“Schatz!” The German accent had completely caught you off guard, the sudden sound of his voice through the speaker of the phone, crackling as it was, was surprising.

“Konig? What…how did you get this number?” You sat up in your chair and dropped your pen to the chart you’d been working on, your eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you calling the hospital? Are you here?”

“Ahh, nein.” He spoke again, softly and quietly. “I am…somewhere else.”

“Okay? How did you get this number?” There was an increasingly distracting noise in the background, one that you couldn’t place; however, it hadn’t been any more irritating than the crackle of the phone itself.

“Sergeant MacTavish gave it to me.” He spoke as if it were the most natural explanation in the world, despite leaving gaps in the narrative he was trying to spell.

“I don’t want to know.” A sigh fell from your lips, and in a moment you’d turned your back to the another nurse charting a few feet away, attempting to give you more privacy. “This isn’t…you shouldn’t really call this number from long distance. Do you…want my cellphone number?”

“Ja, ja.” His voice, still soft as he spoke through the phone, was almost drowned out by another raucous background mess. “Ich möchte mit dir reden, deine Stimme nicht in meinem Kopf hören.”

“Okay, well, I don’t know what that means, but I’ll give you my number. You can’t really call this number.” You picked up your pen again, tapping the pusher against the top-right corner of the chart. As you gave him your number, your body had become alight with warmth that radiated throughout your entire body, and your heart had begun fluttering.

“I have a break in…five minutes. If you want to talk immediately, you have to wait—“ The phone dashboard had lit up with another call coming in, and you’d turned yourself back to face the front of the desk more head on. “I have to take another call, I’ll—“

“Five minutes, schatz.” The conversation went dead, and you’d set the receiver down, almost immediately picking it back up again to give the same spiel you’d given Konig.

With that phone call concluded and your ability to head on your break, you’d left the front of the hospital for the staff room, entering the softly lit room and immediately heading toward your locker. You’d turned the dial for the combination lock and yanked open the door, your eyes glancing over your items before you reached in.

You dug through your locker for your packed nightly snacks and your phone, intending to enjoy your last break before your shift was over. Tonight had seemed to be balls to the walls, overloaded with patients, which would’ve been a rarity for the hospital. Although, the warmer fall days had meant the rise of bush parties, and bush parties led to more than a few drunken accidents. You’d worked half through your shift without feeling the effects of drunk high-schooler’s, before one particularly drunk girl had vomited down the front of your scrubs.

That incident had made your skin crawl, having another person’s emesis down the front of your shirt. As soon as you could change, you’d ripped off your scrubs and threw on the hospital spares, tossing yours into a patient item bag only to kick them aside and hope they didn’t get worse for wear.

And it was that sole incident had made you eager for your vacation, for three weeks off. You intended to head right to the airport after you finished your shift, you’d already been packed with everything you needed to go for three weeks. Your flight was four hours after you were done, and that would give you enough time to drive to the city, get through security and potentially get something to eat if you were hungry again.

Sleep, you decided, was reserved for the flight.

After you’d grabbed your last packed sustenances for the night, you’d taken a table at the back of the staff room and settled yourself into the rigid chairs. You set your bag of pretzels on the table, yanking open the bag and grabbing one of the twisted pieces, biting off the top half. You’d been halfway through chewing when your phone rang, an international number you hadn’t recognized flashing on your screen, and with the expectation that it was Konig, you answered.

“Hallo, schatz!” His voice was much clearer now, much less restrained by the background noise of the crackle of the hospital phone. His voice, soft like the first time he had called, had elicited a shiver that ran down your spine, pleasant as it was.

“Did Johnny really give you the hospital’s number?” you questioned him, finishing eating one pretzel before grabbing another. “I’m surprised he didn’t get it from Em.”

You were, cathartically, being affected by the two of them in completely opposite ways. With your mind still reeling from Simon pushing you against the wall and cupping your chin, to the sound of Konig’s voice obviously having a visceral effect on you, you were thrown for an indescribable loop.

“Your mind is busy tonight, ja? Is it...how do you say balls to the...walls?” A laugh had built in your throat, and you’d immediately felt it falling from your lips, your thoughts now centred around the giant Austrian and his attempt at using American slang.

“Sure, you could say that.” Your lips had been tugged into a small grin, one that was a product of your amusing thoughts. “Balls to the walls.”

“Forgive me, schatz. I am not..the best with English. German is my native language.”

“Oh yeah? And how would you say balls to the walls in German?” Your attempt at teasing the giant had gone relatively unexpected, seeing as he had immediately answered.

“Bälle an die Wände.” His voice carried through the phone, and after he had uttered the same phrase in German, you found yourself repeating it.

“Ahh, your German is...terrible schatzen.” With no attempt at softening the insult to your ability to speak German, he had followed it with a husky laugh.

“Not many Germans here,” you rolled your eyes, feigning contempt despite your smile widening, “I speak English and Spanish. I’d like to hear you speak Spanish with your German accent.”

“Nein.” He denied you, and with his denial had come another flutter of warmth radiating throughout your body. “You are...flying ja?”

“After my shift, I’m driving to the city and heading right to the airport. My flight is four hours after my shift ends.”

“No sleep? What if you fall asleep driving?”

“I’ll sleep on the plane.” You shifted on your hard plastic chair, switching the phone from one hand to the other to rub your hand down your face. “Where were you earlier? When you first called me?”

“Ahh, tut mir leid, Schatz.” His answer was half German, half English. “That is confidential.”

“Right, comes with the whole...territory of being a member of a private military.” You clicked your tongue against your teeth, a moment of silence passing between you before had spoken again.

This time there was an edge to his voice, as if he was irritated or even vexed at something on his end. You could only wonder what could have made the giant Austrian soldier irritated enough to mutter in German; however, you weren’t really given the chance to ask.

“Sorry Schatz.” He apologized, that edge still there. “I have...things to—“

The staff room door was slammed open, and one of the student nurses had entered the room looking panicked. Her eyes had grown wide, and she looked as if she had seen something she couldn’t unsee.

“I have to go.” You ended the call and stood, stepping out from between the table and the chair, slipping your phone into your pocket. As you followed the student nurse out of the staff room, you had felt, and heard, Simon’s voice.

Johnny! What the fuck?! It was an internal thought, one that had slipped Simon’s control, and you’d felt yourself cracking a grin again.

****************

You were exhausted, drained really. The last quarter of your shift was, like Konig had said, balls to the walls. And the incident that had made the student nurse lose her shit, was almost too much for you to handle. The patient that had come in, stunning the student nurse, had been drunk and decided he wanted to screw around with a knife playing five finger fillet.

The blood was not the entire issue, it was the way that he had decided to patch himself up with superglue and duct tape that had done it. The mess he made of his flesh, of his fingertips, had been quite the state. And you couldn’t wait any longer to get on a plane and head to Scotland.

Three weeks. A break from the hospital, and a chance to find your breath again. It was all you needed.

You had only really relaxed after the plane had taken off and you were well on your way. It was official now that the plane was on the flight path to Glasgow International Airport, a kind of ease settling over you. And with a request for a blanket from a flight attendant, you’d gotten yourself comfortable enough to close your eyes and try to sleep.

Although you were tired, your were exhausted, sleep hadn’t come as easily as you had anticipated. Rather than falling into slumber like you were expecting, your mind was plagued by a sudden rush of inescapable heat that surged through you. With the intensity that you’d first felt when you met Simon Riley and Konig, you had been unable to ground yourself into the necessary state of calm that would allow you to rest.

It was innate, the heat that made your eyes open wide and your lips become parted. And after a moment later you had known exactly what was happening.

Although they were not allowing you to see what was going on, like you had allowed them, you knew that something had snapped with the two of them. Regardless of what it was or what they were doing, there was some level of intimacy between the two.

You imagined, that given the trauma they both felt, this was a moment of extreme need and passion. Although you held doubts that it was a full bore sexual moment where they fell into each other, they were experiencing some kind of intimacy though it was not fuelled by love.

No, this was need. Raw and desperate.

Your breath came out shakily, you had shifted in your seat, keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around you. You weren’t given the ability to see what was going on in your mind, and you suspected that it was Simon’s self-preservation at play. He had found himself in a state that was impossible to forgo, and he had to bend a little.

Buckling with Konig, the moment was driven by that inescapable bond that fate had made. Love was not present, yet, but want and need had surfaced. This moment between them had carried the same weight and force as as yours had, the night that you had let yourself go with self-pleasure.

You were as affected by them as they were you, and being surrounded by other passengers on the plane had done you no favours. You couldn’t simply get up and head to the bathroom, not when you felt like the moment you would stand your legs would give out. No, you were stuck in your seat, helpless with no other hope or possibility to cope, other than causing friction by rubbing your thighs together.

The band had broke, a sharp snap and your body had been figuratively set on fire.

Your breathing had become ragged, heart racing with an intensity that had made you self-concerned. You had negated moving, instead you stared out the airplane window with wide eyes and your teeth biting down on the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood.

You stayed rigid until the heat dissipated and your head was clear. Once you had felt cooled off enough to function, you shifted positions and curled into yourself. The blanket was still tightly wound around your body, and an unnatural exhaustion had come upon you.

Your eyed fluttered closed, your breathing had started to even out as sleep that you desperately needed had finally found you. Sleep came naturally, it had been ushered in a relatively calm state in your mind, one that followed all that desperate hunger and expulsion of some kind of tension.

After restlessness that had been provoked by your two soulmates, you had finally been able to sleep. You had been able to settle into sleep, and you had only woken up hours later by a set of gentle mental prods from Simon. Your eyes had opened and you were momentarily unaware of where you were, and given a glance at the flight schedule on the screen in front of your seat, you only had four hours of you light left.

Simon had pushed again, he had settled himself into the forefront of your mind to slowly reveal pieces of himself.

He had shown you slivers, nothing from his past but mostly from his present. The loyalty he had sworn to his other soldiers, the members of this specific squad he was on. He had shown you little of what he had done, the menial task of checking over his guns and cleaning the weapons he used to both protect and destroy the innocent and enemy alike.

It was playing in your head like a reel, and while it wasn’t anything that had alluded to the trauma Emilia said he has suffered, it was a step. He had given you little, protected insight, to the process of cleaning his rifle or checking his ammunition. He had allowed you to see the small parts of him that weren’t innately personal.

A crack in the door, a sliver of trust. Don’t make me regret it, love

Your heart raced, because of both of them. Your heart thrashed and you felt your palms becoming sweaty, as if they were right here beside you watching you. You shivered, tightening the blanket around your shoulders as you looked back at the screen, the plane getting closer and closer to Scotland.

And then, you felt your own desire building.

You wanted to see them, both of them, at some point while you were there.

[upinteriors]

Devil’s Glen by StudioAC

Devils Glen is located on the Bruce Peninsula a few hours north of Toronto. The design process began with a picnic on site where a discussion focused more on the natural elements of site rather than the building, and this inspired an ethic for the project to come. The design began with two fixations, one having the house sited true to a NSEW to take advantage of the solar path throughout the day, the view to the water and to avoid disturbing as much of the natural habitat as possible. The second fixation was to have the roofscape act as a device to shape light, levels of intimacy and vantage points to the treetops, water and sky beyond.

The house is organized in two linear bars, one with sleeping quarters and the other with open living. A modesty to the plan that uses a simple grid of 12’ x 16’ for living spaces and 12’ x 12’ for sleeping allows for unobstructed life to exist within. A simple shift of the two bars produces a covered terrace facing the water and a covered porch at the entry, while simultaneously increasing privacy for both the primary bedroom and the secondary bathroom facilities. This shift in the bars and the siting of the house also conceals the view to the water upon arrival to the site. Once you enter the house the landscape and water are revealed via vignette style windows facing the forest and an expansive glass wall facing the lake.

The plan is capped with a seemingly simple roof that structurally and formally responds to the extensive snowfalls that can happen in the area. A modesty is observed in the roof’s formal and structural concept using framed and clad trusses to increase lateral stability, but these have a dual purpose. While the exterior face of the roof is consistent, a freedom was observed with what could be done with the partition between the two bars above the height of primary walls. Within each bay this partition is allowed to sway from left to right sometimes producing an intimate gable, a grand shed, or a funnel of light. This tactic is played with further in the form a skygazing platform that brings you up into this roofscape to view the treetops, clouds and stars.

The choice of a singular metal building was inspired by farm buildings in the area and a robust galvanized spec free from finish colours increases the robustness and reflects the hues of the landscape and sky throughout the day. On the interior a simple application of white painted drywall and plywood on the roofscape diagrams the architectural device while producing an unfretted backdrop for art, views, and sunlight.

Design: StudioAC Location: Bruce Peninsula, Ontario, Canada Year: 2022 Photography: Felix Michaud

[totes-tubulardude]

Not Star Wars but I mentioned a while ago a sibling g/t story and I finally wrote out a lil bit of it!

-

The sound of sirens had long since faded by the time Luke began to slow down. He didn’t stop moving until the lights from the city were pretty well and faded from the night sky, this far out into the sticks no one was moving around this time of night. 

Uphead was what looked like a shed structure, considering that he couldn’t see any lights or any cars near it he assumed that it was empty. The perfect place for right now. 

In his arms, Kira was still expect for the occasional shudder, he hoped it was from the cold outside. She was smaller than she was supposed to be, or he was larger than he should be, she didn’t weigh much to him right now which was good considering how far he’d run to get them away. 

Sure enough, the large shed was empty, save for a few boxes and tool cabinets. 

He let out a relieved sigh as he set his sister down. 

Kira stumbled a little as she got her feet underneath her. 

Normally she came up to mid chest in height, right now she barely cleared his stomach. He wasn’t even trying to be bigger than he should be, this was just happening. 

“Are you okay?” He asked her.

She stared up at him before nodding hesitantly. He let out a sigh of relief. There had been so much happening before, he’d just grabbed her and run the first chance he’d gotten. 

Everything was so messed up now. Those men had come for him, they’d wanted him for whatever this ability was. The thought of what had happened caused him to shoot up a few more inches.

Not good. 

Luke paced back and forth, dragging his hands through his hair roughly as he tried to gain some semblance of control over his emotions. It wasn’t going very well considering that his skin felt like it was growing tighter and tighter. 

Finally, he sank down onto the floor, putting his head between his knees to quell some of the nausea he was feeling. He was honestly still trying to wrap his head around this whole situation, which was not particularly helping calm him down. 

All he knew right now was he was on the run, he had his ten year old sister with him, and he had little to no control over these abilities. He should be working through his junior year of high school not dealing with this!

Oh god, he was on the run. From some weird government agency that probably wanted to experiment on him or something. 

He felt himself shoot up a little in height and suddenly his knee collided with something. There was a thunderous crash as he knocked over one of the tool cabinets, sending it careening into some of the boxes and causing Kira to scramble out of the way of falling items with a small shout. 

“Crap, Kira are you okay?”

He was large enough now that he could reach his hand over towards his sister without getting up. That certainly wasn’t bizarre. 

Kira flinched back slightly from his outstretched hand and pushed herself away from him a little, the loud sound of the crashing items still ringing in both of their ears. Luke froze. 

Even in the dim light of the LED lantern, he could see the fear in her eyes. Holy shit she was afraid of him. 

Any semblance of control he had shattered. 

Luke groaned as his body swelled in size and he brought his hands up to grip his head. 

This wasn’t good. He was supposed to protect his sister, not terrify her. 

His feet slid across the floor as he continued to grow. Shit this was probably scaring her more. That thought sent another wave of panic through him which only seemed to increase his height faster. 

Luke tried desperately to calm down, but nothing was working. All he could think about was how fucking scared he was and how scary he probably was to Kira.

His left hip hit something, causing it to topple in a much quieter cacophony. 

Shit, shit shit. 

His back pressed against the wall suddenly. Luke lifted his head out of his hands and turned to see that he was indeed now large enough to have reached the wall. The ceiling was nearing the top of his head as well. 

Before the thought of that could send a wave of panic through him, he forced himself to take deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. Slowly but surely he felt himself start to calm himself down enough to slow his growing. 

He took up a large amount of the floor now and he tucked his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs as he continued to breathe. Kira was near the other wall watching him, she was both too far away and now too small for him to make out her expression in the dim light. That might be a good thing considering that he was just now getting himself back under control. 

Luke shut his eyes and focused back on his breathing. Finally he felt himself stop growing, just before his head would start brushing against the ceiling. 

He let out a long sigh of relief. 

Suddenly he felt a small pressure on his arm, making him jump slightly. Luke blinked his eyes open and looked down to see Kira resting her hand on his forearm. He froze once again. 

Holy shit she looked absolutely tiny next to him now. 

She reached up to place her other hand against his arm too, it felt like she was trying to tug him slightly. 

“I’m fine.” He said quietly, but his voice still rang out in the space. “Sorry for scaring you earlier. I’m um… trying to figure this out.”

She pushed at him imploringly. 

He furrowed his brows and carefully lowered his right arm down towards her, not entirely sure what she wanted from him. 

“Look,” He mumbled as she seemed to inspect him. “I don’t have, like any control over this ability. For now you probably should stay away from me.” 

She looked up at him with imploring confusion. 

“As you just saw, I can’t really control this.” He explained. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you. I’d stay away from me until I have more control of this… not as dangerous.”

She continued to stare up at him with one of her looks that made him feel like she was staring right into his soul. He dropped her gaze and rested his chin on his knees.

Luke hoped she understood what he was trying to explain. 

The reason that agency was probably after him was because he was dangerous. Seeing what he’d done to that building and how easily Kira had almost been hurt moments ago, he found that he suddenly didn’t blame them. He’d want a freak like him locked up in some facility away from people he could hurt. 

Luke’s head jerked down when he felt a new pressure on his arm. His eyes widened even more when he saw that Kira was scrambling up onto his forearm. 

“Wait Kira-” She crawled up to the crook of his elbow with surprising ease. “W-what are you doing?”

She looked up at him before waving her arm, motioning towards his still bunched up legs. He continued to stare at her with no small amount of fear and did not move a single muscle. One small move and he feared that he send her tumbling off of him. 

Kira let out a long suffering huff before scrambling up his arm a little more and making as if to hop into his lap. 

“What the-”

Luke quickly unbunched his legs and brought his left hand up under her to support her as she landed on his stomach. 

Holy shit he could support her with one hand. That wasn’t terrifying at all. 

“Kira I don’t think this is a good idea.” He said, unease making his voice waver slightly. 

In response she sank down on his palm, letting her back lean against his stomach and her feet dangle over his hand. She settled back before patting his finger and looking up at him. 

“I trust you.” She spoke softly and simply. 

Luke melted almost instantly at that. 

He slowly brought his hand up by his chest and wrapped his right arm around his middle. 

[kareofbears]

hand of god, deliver me

Wednesday hated summers. Will continue to hate summers.

Her phone vibrates. I’m outside! :D

But it’s possible she started hating summers a little less.

--

Or, Wednesday and Enid spend the last day of summer together.

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Wednesday hated summers.

Winters are her preferred season. She prefers long, flowy fabric that covers as much of her as possible. She prefers the cold, likes the way air tastes when she steps outside, the way it clings to her like shedding skin, flimsy but present. She loves the dark—loves the way the sun has already set by the time she leaves her classes, loves the shadows the trees cast from the flickering street lights above her. Love the way it makes the hair on the back of her neck rise when she realizes she can’t see more than a block in front of her. Loves the effect it has on people, makes them nervous, makes them crazed.

Summer has none of these.

Even from inside her home, the sun had managed to squeeze its way through the black-out curtains and light up the living room in a way that makes her eye twitch. She sits on her family’s piano bench, idly touching the monochrome keys. Her black skirt is comforting, though it makes the back of her legs sticky with sweat. Air conditioning is a push of a button, but there’s something sickening about the faux-chill. The way it snakes around the room, flowing into her lungs, suffocating her. Even sweat and body odor is preferable to that.

A bird sings from outside the window—a robin with a sonorant throat. Wednesday digs her nails into the keys, the sound clashing together unpleasantly.

Wednesday hated summers. Will continue to hate summers.

Her phone vibrates. I’m outside! :D

But it’s possible she started hating summers a little less.

She stands, swipes her phone off the table before sliding it into her pocket, and heads out the door silently. No need to call out a goodbye. Her parents always know when she’s left the house.

Down her driveway, standing in direct sunlight, stands Enid, sporting a smile so wide that Wedneday believes that she’s physically incapable of replicating it. Only in the span of a few months, Enid had grown an inch taller, increasing their height gap even further.

The first thing that she says is, “Your hair.”

“Huh? Oh,” Enid touches her hair, almost shy. Instead of the pink and blue, it’s now red and green. “I figured it’s time for a change. Do you like it?”

Wednesday tilts her head to the side. “It’s festive,” she says eventually.

“It’s August,” Enid reminds. “It’s not supposed to be festive.”

“Then what is it supposed to be?”

“A change?” she shifts on her feet. “Something different, I guess.” Glancing at Wedneday, her eyes warm. “I considered black, believe it or not.”

Wedneday’s mouth twitches. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I didn’t go through with it, now did I?” Their eyes are still connected, and her heart thumps as though she were terrified. As though there was something dangerous nearby that can chew her up, spit her out, with only her bones remaining left to remember her by.

She blinks. It’s only Enid. Enid in her bright sundress, with pink shades perched on top of her head like a nesting bird, who’s taller now but doesn’t make Wednesday feel smaller.

“Let’s go before we miss the bus.”

—

It has been a very long time since Wednesday had used public transportation.

It’s surprisingly pleasant, despite the air conditioning. Other than the two of them, only the bus driver and an elderly woman were onboard, allowing the two of them to sit in the back without any interruption. Thankfully, Enid lets her have the window seat.

Enid chats, and chats, and chats. She doesn’t talk of monsters, or Outcasts, or killings, or mysteries. Instead, she talks about normal things. Teenager things. About what she did in the past two months, about a book she’s reading, about a shirt she knitted halfway through before giving up because she suddenly got sick of the colors. How she went to a farmer’s market a few ago and complained about how the mangos were underripe but the avocados are overripe. Embroidery is her new passion, she says.

Wednesday stares outside the whole time, at the blue sky and the flower fields that pass by, silent. She’s enjoying the one-sided conversation, strangely enamoured by her fluctuating voice and gesticulating hands. It feels like everything that happened the last school year was a hallucination, a dream turning fuzzy the moment you wake up only to be forgotten completely in minutes.

This, however, is the realest she’s felt in a long time.

“What’s this?” Enid asks suddenly, and she feels a gentle finger on her wrist, stroking the new silver chain there. “Are you liking jewelry nowadays?”

“A necessity. It’s embedded with Onyx stones.” She tilts her wrist, this way and that, vaguely enjoying the glimmer. “It’s expensive in case I need to sell it for emergencies. Or bribery.”

“It’s pretty.” Enid’s hand traces the stones one more time before pulling away. “It suits you.”

For a second, Wednesday considers letting her wear it, even if it was just for a moment. An heirloom to the Addams, one that dates back centuries and carries history that even she herself isn’t sure about. It was supposed to be an honor to wear this, unthinkable for outsiders to even touch.

Then her eyes flicker to Enid. Her high cheekbones and pale hair, the purse of her lips—a childish habit she has when she’s thinking deeply. The way she caresses Wednesday’s wrist like it would wither under her fingers, her nails painted a bright lilac. It’s as if she’s the color that shines through stained glass windows in a cathedral, unrelenting and vivid and filled to the brim with stories to tell.

Wednesday pulls her hand away. “Are we almost there?”

Enid jolts, hands scrambling to find purchase on the call button. “Oh my god, I almost forgot.”

Soon, the both of them tumble out of the bus, Enid still rambling about how she funny it would have been if they had to backtrack in the hot summer, although Wednesday isn’t quite sure what would be so funny about that.

As they make their way to the small town, she glances at Enid’s wrist, unburdened by Onyx stones, and nods to herself. The idea of shackling Enid to the Addams is sickening enough to make her nauseous, no matter how temporary, fill her stomach with lead and sink her to the bottom of a lake.

Her family can try and take anything of Wednesday’s, but not this. Never this.

—

The village resides at the mouth of a nearby river, buildings old but sturdy in a classic European way. It’s small and quaint, a fishing village that had overtime been reinvented as somewhat of a tourist hub, with small stores and market stalls scattered across the premises that creates an atmosphere similar to a renaissance fair. A combination of students, locals, and out-of-towners roam around, the last few days of summer encouraging everyone to soak in the sun and make up for doing nothing the past few months.

Wednesday feels her brows furrow, but instantly smooths over her expression. Still, Enid peers closely at her. “It’s the crowds, isn’t it?”

This time, she doesn’t bother hiding her grimace. “Don’t watch me so closely.” Her heart rate is spiking again. Instinctively, she scans for a danger that isn’t there. “It’s a fruitless effort to try and read me.”

Enid’s expression turns cocky. “I think I just did, actually, but we don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.” She links her arms with Wednesday’s and takes them down a back alley. The whole path is shrouded in tall pine trees, creating a walkway of shade and cool air. “I had a feeling it would be like this, so…” she shrugs. “Let’s walk the road less traveled.”

They spend the day like that, entering shops, peering at clothes (Enid), enamored by the spiders that crawl through the flower beds (Wedneday), browsing through books (Enid and Wednesday). The whole time, their arms stay linked. Whenever she tries to pull away, Enid would tighten her grip, whining. It would be too easy to yank her arm out of the way, but she’s slightly, abnormally, inexplicably charmed.

Her heart beats quicker, the fear getting stronger, but she doesn’t mind it.

She doesn’t mind any of it.

—

The last shop in their strip is a thrift store.

Wednesday sits on a bench just outside the dressing room, legs crossed as she waits for Enid to finish changing. So far, she’s gone through military uniforms, Victorian era gowns, and cheerleader.

“This better be the last one, or I’m leaving you here,” Wednesday murmurs.

“Ha!” she hears a snort. “As if you know how to bus home.”

Frowning. “I do know how to bus home.”

A blonde tuff of hair peeks out from behind the curtain as Enid grins at her. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone, rich girl.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes before standing up to stretch, letting her gaze wander around the store. Shelves of useless junk next to racks of ugly clothes. No wonder Enid loves this place.

She lets her feel take her to the glass cabinet, the lighting dim but just bright enough to let her peer inside. As she expected, most of it is worthless. Colored plastic, sterling silver, scratched up gems on rusted bases. She’s about to turn back when something glints at her.

Eyes widening, she leans down, sucking in a breath. There is no hesitation in her voice when she says, “Excuse me, how much?”

—

The bus ride home is quiet.

There are a few more people riding with them, but it seems they’re all just as tired as they are. With the sun setting, everything is bathed in a warm orange light. The temperature had gone down to something bearable, so the bus had opeted to let the windows roll down instead of relying on the air conditioning. She closes her eyes, enjoying how the wind rustles her hair gently.

A weight slides onto her shoulder. Wednesday turns carefully. Enid had fallen asleep on her, chest rising and falling in even breaths, gently jostling along with the bus.

Eventually, carefully, so, so carefully, she reaches into the pocket of her skirt, pulling out a pale, pearl bracelet that she puts on Enid’s wrist.

She watches her for a long time. Watches how the sunset makes the pearls shine in an entrancing way, how the color is so unmistakably Enid.

In a moment of bravery, or more accurately, stupidity, Wednesday intertwines her fingers with Enid’s. In this angle, it’s impossible not to notice how the Onyx bracelet from earlier is gone—replaced, instead, with a black pearl bracelet of her own.

Wednesday Addams is not stupid.

She isn’t quite so stupid as to believe her own thoughts. She isn’t quite so stupid as to believe that this is something as juvenile as a friendship bracelet. She isn’t quite so stupid as to believe that what she’s feeling all this time was fear.

Was it fear that causes her heart to race? Her mouth to twist into a smile? Her chest to feel like it’s going to explode? To change her mind about something she hated because the girl sleeping on her shoulder expressed a liking to it?

Wednesday Addams is not stupid, but she is a coward.

Maybe it really is fear. She’s scared enough to wait until Enid was asleep. Scared enough to use the words she’s never afraid of using. She’s scared to want. Above all, she’s scared of the scale of her want. But what she’s truly afraid of is something that doesn’t dare even name. She isn’t ready.

Absently, she squeezes her hand around Enid’s, praying she doesn’t stir. The hand tightens in return, and the head on her shoulder only seems to relax further, the bracelet’s strapped around their wrists clinking together.

She isn’t ready.

Wednesday lets her gaze slide back to the window, and appreciates the warm air of summertime.

But maybe someday she will be.

—

Enid lies in bed, staring at the pearls on her wrist, other hand gripping her phone, Wednesday’s contact open, unsent messages by the dozens clogging up her screen.

i love it. why didn’t you wake me up?

i love the color, but why didn't you get me black? i told you I'm starting to like it more as time goes on

i love seeing you, i had so much fun

summer can’t end soon enough. roomies for life!!

how do you feel about summer?

i love you

I love you

I love you.

She tosses her phone aside, shoving her face in her pillow.

Maybe someday.