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gmarseln · 1 year

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What if the reason Wednesday dislikes physical touch so much is because she doesn't actually dislike it, but because she craves it far too much to the point it hurts?

What if the reason she doesn't let Enid touch her is because she feels as though a billion stars have imploded in her chest and she feels spiders in her stomach whenever she does? Its as though she'll shatter; and perhaps she wants to be held so tightly to the point she will.

What if, what if, what if what if what if.

#Wednesday discovers love destroys her in the most beautiful way possible #wednesday #wednesday addams #wenclair #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #wednesday x enid #enid x wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday show #enid emma myers #wednesday jenna ortega #wednesday addams x enid sinclair #enid sinclair x wednesday addams

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bookmovietvworm · 1 year

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So, Tyler as the Hyde killed everyone he attacked except Eugene. A fact that eventually led to Ms. Thornhill/Laurel’s downfall since Eugene gives Wednesday the final clue to put the pieces together.

So, my question is why? Why did Tyler choose to not deliver a death blow to Eugene like he did the others? Especially since Thornhill knew that Wednesday was heading out there to find him…

Just an interesting thought that popped into my head as I was rewatching

#tyler galpin #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday x tyler #I truly think that he maybe held himself off because he realized how much Eugene meant to Wednesday #and he was only forced to attack because they discovered the cave #but it is interesting that only one of the Hyde’s victims survived and it was the one closest to Wednesday #Wyler

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qulizalfos · 2 months

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[runs in after abandoning my blog all week and throws this on the table] HAPPY BIRTHDAY WAYLI @wayward-sherlock PLEASE ACCEPT THIS FICLET AS A SYMBOL OF MY GRATITUDE TOWARDS HOW FUCKINF AWESOME U ARE ALWAYS <3 I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU BTW!!! anyways i hope u enjoy 2k of college byler shenanigans :) mwah

home (is wherever you are tonight)

“Oh, my God,” Will says, sitting forward, face alight in ways that terrify Mike. “There’s another reason, there’s a huge reason you're here, you—” “It’s Valentine’s Day, right?” The shift in Will’s expression is instantaneous. It might’ve qualified as comical, too, if Mike’s heart wasn’t about to explode.

You’d think Mike would have scrounged together a better sense of how to backpedal when he’s about to do something incredibly stupid.

He’s trying not to think too hard about how quickly they rattle off in his head, the world’s most inconvenient list of reminders. What is wrong with you? We’re just… not in the mood right now. You’ve been on the bench all year. Not for the first time he’s gritting his teeth and wondering if it would have been entirely too much to ask for him to have acquired, by now, some intricate sixth sense for recklessness. He’s well aware that there’s no cosmic cure against the potency of his own mistakes, but he’d take anything to help him generally steer clear of these specific situations.

Encounters with murderous, eldritch entities ought to do that to a person. In his —for the record, totally impartial— opinion.

No goddamn dice, he thinks as he raises a fist to knock.

Maybe it is different, he supposes, because he’s less consumed by a wave of defensive volatility and less likely to bury the truth at the first sign of scrutiny, recoil at any chance of being left behind, and more willing to stop before he gains too dangerous an amount of momentum. It still happens, obviously— (case in point: now, loitering in an empty corridor, bland wallpaper finding a way to make it look like it’s laughing down at him, shifting his weight as he waits) he’d just convinced himself he had it more under control.

It’s ridiculous anyway. This whole thing is clearly careening towards a setup for a copious amount of slip ups on his part. But, it’s whatever.

Will’s probably out, anyway, he considers, belatedly.

It’s Valentine’s Day, —granted, a Wednesday evening dragging by with a sluggish, hazy quality— but a significant date all the same. Will is, Mike hedges, almost definitely out, maybe with the mystery guy in their joint history lecture, whose name Mike neglected to wheedle out of him last week. Maybe they’re both walking home from some fucking café, and Will would be getting cold like he does when the threat of snow looms at every waking moment, and to make matters worse, the other guy might do something sickeningly romantic like wind his scarf around Will’s neck, all while Mike’s standing at his dorm door like an idiot.

It’s possible he’s not very committed to the whole “breathe” thing El suggested, the day before the sky turned blue again, the day he was most convinced it never would again.

He threads a nervous hand through the disaster-prone section of his hair, hoping to smoothen it out, as he lifts his clenched hand, setting his face in concentration and aiming to knock one more time, and—

He has to flinch back to avoid accidentally punching Will in the face with his knock. Needless to say, that would be pretty counterproductive.

Will. Standing in front of him, soft furrow between his brows, loose sweater, lips parted.

He’s beautiful.

He shoves the thought to the side. It’s not the safest one to have when Will is less than two feet in front of him.

“Mike?”

It hits him about an hour too late: Maybe it’s ironic, how this holiday, composed entirely of spontaneous lovesick bullshit and cordiform chocolate boxes, doesn’t warrant him showing up at someone’s door unannounced. Not when it’s already 7pm.

It isn’t that he hadn’t brought that into consideration, just that now it’s not just an inkling in the back of his mind he has to ignore if he has any hope of getting ready with minimal distraction, but a real, pressing concern, and—

Will’s face splits into a grin, and the thought vanishes as quick as it came.

“Hey,” Mike tries, too hastily. The longer Will stands, just blinking at him, the further Mike burrows his hands into the pockets of his jackets.

He snaps out of it fairly quickly, and the expression has melted into something pleasantly surprised. Mike can work with that. He’s done much more with much less. “Uh— hi.”

“Are you busy?” Mike cranes a neck to peer around Will’s shoulder, unsure of what he’s looking for but appreciating the lack of anything all the same. “If you’re busy, I’ll totally come back, to— fuck, maybe not tomorrow, you have that—”

“Mike.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not busy,” he says with bright eyes, stepping back from the door to accommodate him. “I— don’t just stand there, come in, of course I’m not busy. Why, what’s up?”

“Thought maybe you were off at a candlelit dinner,” Mike remarks, because it’s easier to get out than the other thing, kicking off his shoes and trying not to think too hard about Will, the same Will in the same shadowy alcove as him, whose expression is tinged with fondness, at dinner; with warm lighting and a muted hum of chatter and someone else sitting across from him. “With the fancy napkins.”

“I think I would’ve mentioned the horrors of scraping together enough money for anything like that,” he says, and Mike’s efforts at miming cradling the aforementioned, hypothetical napkin receive a raised eyebrow. “Seriously, is something going on? If Max—”

“Nothing’s happening,” Mike tells him, passing him out and swiveling around to keep walking backwards, reversing into the couch and pretending he didn’t whack his knee as he drops onto it, picking at the edge of the nearest cushion, sprawling out as much as he can manage to. “Which is precisely why I’m here. Well, one of the reasons.”

Will hums, folding his arms and leaning on the back of the couch, contemplative. It has no right to be as endearing as it is. “Are there a lot of reasons?”

“I’m not allowed to visit you anymore?” Mike jokes. “Should I have called and given you a week’s notice?” He sits up, relishing the back and forth. “Should I—”

“No, you’re just… I dunno.” Will pokes his shoulder and skirts the couch, settling in the space Mike makes for him. “You seem nervous. Like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Shit.

Mike lets out what may be considered as the fakest laugh he’s ever mustered, darting his eyes away and plastering on a frown. He gives a half-hearted attempt at an unconvinced, hopefully somewhat assuring scoff, tugging free the crease that’s formed at the ankle of his jeans. “What makes you say that?” he asks. He’d like to describe it as nonchalant. Maybe he’s not as good at hiding as the boy in front of him, but he’s been sidestepping the obvious for what feels like his whole life. He’s had more than enough practice.

“Oh, my God,” Will says, sitting forward, face alight in ways that terrify Mike. “There’s another reason, there’s a huge reason you’re here, you—”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, right?”

The shift in Will’s expression is instantaneous. It might’ve qualified as comical, too, if Mike’s heart wasn’t trying its damndest not to explode. Again, counterproductive.

Will’s mouth drops open a little, the line of his body stock still, and just hovers there, close enough that the warmth of his breath brushes Mike’s face, and the room slips into little more than a backdrop. Mike searches his eyes for a sign that’s not there. He lifts a hand from where it’s resting on a dark green cushion, weighing the implications and consequences of reaching out against the part of him that doesn’t want to consider technicalities until far, far later. The moment stretches, engraving itself into Mike’s memory.

And then it shatters.

Will slumps back, clearing his throat twice in rapid succession, and the corners of his mouth quirk up in diplomacy. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”

Mike’s throat feels unreasonably dry. “Nope,” he says, omitting any mention of the crisis he’d had marching down the hall, questioning whether he’d gotten the date wrong and everything would blow up in his face tenfold, and just drumming his fingers against his thigh.

“So—” Will frowns, “what are you trying to say?”

This was all going much smoother during the numerous rehearsals in his head. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” he parrots, trying not to think about Will’s sharp inhale too much, “and I haven’t done something on Valentine’s Day for years, and you’re free, and I’m free, and…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “I don’t know, I thought we could hang out.”

Silence.

It’s about to backfire, he can sense it, so he rushes to add: “In solidarity.”

“Right,” Will says, faraway. Mike sort of needs to run outside and scream for an untold amount of time.

“Doesn’t have to be super special,” he says, sensing the need for a prompt change in subject. “Unless you want it to be special, but I just figured— like, what were you gonna do before I came?”

Will glances at him once, quizzical, but drops it.

—

It’s a short walk from the dorm to the closest Circle K, and one spent wrapped up in pleasant, amicable conversation, catching up on the various aspects of each other’s lives that aren’t entwined already, and about halfway there Will stoops to tie his shoelace. As Mike waits he considers how scary it could be if he dwells too long on how noteworthy the most mundane tasks become in Will Byers’ company.

They wander inside, Mike leaning on the door to open it for Will in what he hopes is a courteous manner, and trails down an aisle beside Will, the faint beat of a trashy pop song barely covering the echo of their footsteps on the tiles.

“Just the sodas?” Mike checks, swerving to avoid a display stacked high.

“Yeah,” Will says, nabbing a coke and gesturing to the fridge. “Take your pick.”

Mike reaches for a 7Up.

“Knew it,” Will says, something indecipherable in his tone. And then he’s extending a hand, covering Mike’s for a split second — long enough for an odd sensation to bloom in his ribs, but short enough for him to want to say, fuck it, and tangle their fingers, but Will teases the can out of his grip, leaving Mike with a cool smear of condensation on his palm.

“We can pool our resources,” Mike quips as Will deposits the cans on the counter. The cashier flicks a lazy glance at them and tells them the price. “I have a quarter.”

“Generous of you,” Will observes, producing a crumpled dollar note from his back pocket.

They settle on a wall outside, and Mike kicks the solid stone intermittently with his dangling heels, sipping away as Will starts to talk. The sky runs like spilled ink above them, perforated with only a smattering of stars and a few dark clouds, but Will is bathed in the gold ring of a streetlamp. There’s a lull in conversation, but it’s fine. Mike’s content to stay here all night.

“This was nice,” he says, in lieu of everything else.

Will bumps against his shoulder. “Yeah?”

A tiny droplet of rain lands on Mike’s nose, and three more freckle more of his exposed skin. A low fizz kicks up, drilling into the gray landscape surrounding them, and more dots pepper on the wall.

“Yeah.” Will turns away. Mike scans the area around them, but they’re alone save for a few empty chip packets strewn across the concrete. Will’s gorgeous. Mike can’t explain it, but he knows when warmth floods your veins it’s a sign that merits extra morosis, and his intentions are in the right place, and it’s so hard to steer himself in any direction other than pitching forward and propping up a hand on the other side of Will’s jaw. Mike doesn’t let himself think too much of it as he presses a kiss to Will’s cheek.

It’s as short-lived as it is sweet: Will’s answering gasp, all wide eyes and questions in every line of his face, the beads of rain on his skin, near lucent in the orange lighting, the tickle of his bangs getting in Mike’s eyes a little when he turns.

And then Will’s breaking away to set down his Coke, and closing the gap between them.

Truthfully, Mike didn’t know that kissing could feel like this. It seems like something so untouchable, so far from what’s in his own comprehension of the world, that finding this kind of warmth could happen, but Will’s slinging an arm around his back and all coherent thoughts promptly dissolve in the now steadily falling rain.

#fun facr! writing this i discovered that valentines day 1990 (aka when this is set) = wednesday #and valentines day 2024 Is Also = wednesday #which makes me suiuper happy for no damn reason i just .YEAAG thanks universe. thtas awesome #byler #i hojpe this isnt exeptionally ooc !! i tried ot edit it more but iam a litle bit tired n i fear i am about to start hearing colors #so witg that im signing off goodbye yall. ily wayli #ill move it to ao3 soon. maybe tomrorw🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡

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sparky-draws · 6 months

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Almost forgot WIP Wednesday. Something silly this time bc I've been in a weird headspace today

#ghost discovers the wonderful world of packers #soapghost #wip wednesday #trans soap #my beloved <3

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greypetrel · 9 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you @theluckywizard for the tag! :D I'm going with some art as well, shit happened last week and well, guess who slept little and drew instead ahahahahahahah *cries*

"Oh-oooooh we saw you both climbing back to the tower after the post-Corypheus party! You surely ended the evening wildly, didn't you? 😏". It was wild in the sense that Aisling turned into a koala (Saved the chlamydia) (KoalAisling), they fell asleep basically 3 minutes after the end of the cutscene, just the time to get in comfier clothes.

Angelic chorus is getting some serious lines and maybe some colours because I liked their faces. They're singing in chipmunk voice here they are.

Some Hawkebela for your pleasure, I'm still deeply unsure how to finish it. Courtesy of @shivunin who got the perfect song for this ship, I got it stuck in my head and well, had to do something.

DadWolf comic, papa Varric to the rescue. Is that deep cut necessary? No, but I guess he's feel suffocating and oppressed with some lower one. Much like Solas with shoes.

Here you go, some of these will hopefully be posted soon.

tagging: @shivunin as above @ndostairlyrium @transprincecaspian @demandthedoodles @star--nymph @morgandarcyarts (ciao!) @cullenvhenan @zenstrike @rowanisawriter @idolsgf @daggerbean

(as always: ignore the tag if you mind it!)

#wip wednesday #dragon age #hawkebela #cullavellan #varric tethras #wip #greypetrel #dadwolf au #aisling lavellan #raina hawke #if that's the way you discovered koalas have horrible illnesses I'm really sorry #I'm looking at Raina's arm over Bela's thigh and I'm horribly not sure about the pose but MMMMMMMMMMMH #Squinting horribly at it

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thornilee013 · 3 months

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Baby JEAN (shorts if u will) - @jtl-fics

prev | Baby Jean | WW 27.12.2023

Jean was quickly entranced in the way the lights inside the tank made each fish sparkle. It seemed more like each fish was dancing rather than swimming, and he couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way some of the fish lazily swam across the distance of the tank while others darted back and forth, playing with their companions.

The ones he ended up liking the most, however, were the big, slow fish that seemed to enjoy doing nothing at all, besides exist.

MASTERPOST

#lee's writing shenanigans #aftg #all for the game #wip wednesday #aftg jean #jean moreau #baby jean #jtl fics #ww013 27.12.2023 #<33333 mwah #in this episode. Jean discovers: fish

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bisexualchrissycunningham · 11 months

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For @hellcheeranniversaryweek's WIP Wednesday: Amnesty where we post about WIPs we may never finish.

Sometime last summer, or maybe fall, I had a Second Chance idea for a fic. Eddie and Chrissy unexpectedly run into each other at a museum in Paris around 3 years after their breakup ('89 or '90), and spend the night together, walking around the city and catching up and trying to deny how in love they both still are (it was only vaguely inspired by Richard Linklater's Before trilogy).

They'd been together throughout '86 and were living in Chicago, while Chrissy did her freshmen year. But Eddie had a chance encounter with someone in the music industry who gave Corroded Coffin a chance at a big break - opening an American tour for a mid-level band maybe, I hadn't decided - and he was going to say no because he was afraid it would end things with Chrissy, but she insisted he had to do it. She would feel far too guilty if he gave up this one chance.

So in the spring of '87 Eddie left town. They made promises about calling and writing, but once they were apart, they both felt too guilty to hold the other back with constant contact. So they fell apart.

Chrissy has a difficult sophomore year. Her eating disorder returned with a vengeance. After the many lighthearted fights she and Eddie had about what pet they should get (she wanted a dog, he wanted a cat) she ends up rescuing a raggedy black cat and names him after some obscure D&D character Eddie loved.

The only light in the darkness was this one class she took - an art class that ended up giving her a path to a happier future.

Corroded Coffin had a hit first record, and toured a couple times throughout the US and Europe. Their record label was pushing for an even bigger commercial success the second time around. But Eddie was unhappy with how his life ended up - fame isn't what he thought it would be.

Chrissy found her passion (art) and has just spent a fulfilling semester abroad in Paris surrounded by friends she loves who adore her, but still has this hole in her heart that Eddie left behind.

It would have had a happy ending, though not right away. This 2 teensy excerpts are all I have written besides a list of little details I knew I wanted to include:

Eddie has gotten everything he dreamed of back in high school and he’s never been so fucking miserable.

They’re in Paris this week–the record label wants them to settle on a recording studio after months of back and forth, and Eddie is tired of it all. It doesn’t even matter. The producers are just going to keep pushing back, keep asking for the single. The single that would top the success of their first record.

The thing is, they already have all the songs they want to record. At least, the songs he and Jeff want to record.

That fall in Chicago was a dream, or at least that’s how Eddie remembers it. The hard parts–the fear that Chrissy would get bored of him or meet a guy in her classes that could give her a much better life–he hardly remembers any of that anymore.

He only remembers her. Afternoons in her dorm room, her studying while he wrote songs and planned campaigns. The nights she was able to stay at his shitty place he rented with Jeff and the Sunday mornings spent naked in bed making love and playing Billy Joel songs for her on his acoustic guitar.

He still finds himself playing those songs mindlessly. Grant and Gareth poke fun at him whenever they catch him, but Jeff only ever gives him these sad looks that make Eddie wanna punch something.

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #i know it's late but wanted to sneak something in!#wip wednesday #or thursday!!!#hellcheer anniversary week #my writing #artist!chrissy doesn't seem to be an especially popular headcanon #but i love chrissy discovering creativity she'd stifled under her mother's thumb #oh btw the photos of paris aren't the best because i took them lol

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echo-echo31 · 1 year

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A drabble for SFW Wednesday and because of my funky ankle.

Warnings: injury, hurt/comfort

It was a stupid error - literally a case of not looking where you were going. Sure, you were on a completely uncharted planet and it was exciting! But unfortunately, that didn't mean it took pity on you when you accidentally stepped on a plant which had a defense mechanism of excreting a something similar to very mild pepper spray.

You're pretty sure you're just dazed with puffy eyes. Still, here you are, swaying gently in your Head Engineer's arms. As soon as you'd shown any sign of discomfort, he'd insisted on carrying you bridal style back to the Invinsible II. Of course, you'd protested at first, but now you find yourself with a mild blush that has nothing to do with your other symptoms, burying your face a little in his shoulder.

"You liking this treatment, Cap'n?"

The slight smirk in Mark's voice has you looking up, a squint in your eyes as he seems amused with himself.

"Shut up,"

"Never, stardust,"

#ive discovered hes my go to hurt comfort #i love himb #sfw wednesday #tw: injury #tw: hurt/comfort #star boi <3 #captineer #echo writes #echo is sfw

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universe-city-wanderer · 1 year

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hi all! this post will be about what you will see a lot of on my page!

I will probably post..

poems

random thoughts

stuff about stuff I’m interested in

some vent stuff

writing

mental health

about my life

relatable stuff

and more :)

dni if you’re..

homophobic

racist

discriminatory towards any religion

ableist

transphobic

if you’re one of the people who forced Nick Nelson to come out when he wasn’t ready

also I post stuff about bpd or like my experience and put it in the tags, but I’m not diagnosed, I’m just self diagnosed/questioning (I’ve done looots of research)

I can’t think of anymore rn but I’ll let y’all know :)