Mar 15, 2024
would you hand me that?
".....Why do you have a jar of giant wasps.... do I want to know? I feel like I don't and yet the curiosity is getting to me."
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would you hand me that?
".....Why do you have a jar of giant wasps.... do I want to know? I feel like I don't and yet the curiosity is getting to me."
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❛ what ? you're here to finish me off ? ❜
@miercolaes / short starter call ♡
xavier and enid would be the 2 survivors brought in with wednesday and she'd be soooooooo pressed and pissed off about it because she'd be trying to do her "i'm a survivor too" shtick and they'd see her and IMMEDIATELY just point and yell "KILLER!" because they both know there's no fucking universe where wednesday would be there as anything other than an agent of evil. It'd piss her off so bad she'd target them specifically but they'd just fucking put a hand on her forehead and keep her at bay.
@miercolaes (take my bad headcanon shitposts fool 🔫)
“ the undead are not known for their mercy. ” ╰ @miercolaes
curled up on the floor, shivering and groaning this is nothing like the movies, and, worse, it’s very real. this PAIN ... unlike anything she’s ever experienced before. and this is the girl who had to have her own vocals mansplained by simon cowell. the hunger is overtaking her. it leaves her sick and writhing, in pools of coagulated blood on those marble floors she used to meticulously clean. hands clutch her stomach : “ i can’t do it, wednesday. i can’t. ” DEAREST WEDNESDAY : a stormcloud on a sunny day yet a sign of optimistic pessimism on the ever present rainy days. charlotte can absolutely appreciate the morbidity of it all, very much including wednesday’s. because wednesday is right. charlotte isn’t dead. charlotte is undead, and the cravings won’t go away … but neither will her weak stomach or morals. she rolls over, pressing her forehead to the cold floors, watching the blackish-red ichor dribble from her peeling lips : “ i tried the raw steak, i tried roadkill, i tried beached whales i’ll find something, but i’m not killing some innocent being. ”
❝ isn't it past your bedtime? go to bed. ❞
took it from a text meme and rewrote it. i lied, she can't be nice.
"Excuse me----You're not my mother. You are actually twelve years old. Do you hear yourself?"
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❝ i got something for you, out of the kindness of my heart. ❞ she murmured with a tone as flat as a passerby she recently ran across, passing him a rubik's cube. the catch ⸻ it's unsolvable. she'd painted over one yelow square with red paint.
listen, it was either this or a russian roulette game...
He looks at Wednesday, chewing at the insides of his scars, then looks at her gift, next moment his gaze is back on her, black-rimmed eyes widening in surprise and he points at himself theatrically and mouthes in disbelief: What, for a little ol' me?
The present is unusual just like herself, but he doubts she's planted a tiny bomb inside it or something else to physically harm him. Like he would.
"Hmmm." The corners of his lips curl upwards as he snatches the gift from her and starts twisting it, loudly and vigorously, in all possible directions.
"Oooh, so...wicked." He growls, eyes twinkling with amusement as he closely examines the cube, tongue flicking out to brush over the tiny scar under his lower lip. He stops abruptly and tucks the cube into his left coat pocket. Waitaminute. He can't let her go empty-handed, can he?
"I uh, I got sumpin' for ya too, you know." He fishes into his right pocket and produces a deck of playing cards. The Joker cuts the deck with one swift movement of his dexterous fingers, like a professional magician, and flips a card open for her.
A queen of spades.
"See? She looks juuuuuust like you."
❝ you look more dead than alive. ❞ she remarked, after a thorough observation of frida. this time however, this wasn't meant to be understood as a compliment. from wednesday's perspective, they looked terribly dreadful. definitely worse than that time the two of them met under rather unpleasant circumstances. ❝ what happened? ❞ she queries, taking one step forward towards frida. who am i supposed to kill were the words burning on the tip of her tongue, yet words she never uttered.
the taste is still in their mouth sour, sweet, smokey. glass pops, flame flickers, smoke billows. eyelids shut, skin creasing as they clamp tighter and tighter. it was all evidence, right ??? bodies are evidence, and this body would mean the fall of an empire ... and their own untimely death. frida was never meant to kill. they never have. they’ve injured, they’ve fought, they’ve kicked the living shit out of a few folks, sure. he pounded at the glass, tried the handles, tried to kick his way out. with a gun to their head, they struck the match and set the car ablaze. a rite of passage, she was told. kill or be killed, dog eat dog, survival of the fittest, but the killer, the dog who eats the other dogs, the fittest, all have a fucking gun. she has a family who needs her. it’s supposed to be justified he’s been killing since before she was even born, he was dropping bad batches in the streets, he was going after wives and kids. hands shake, stomach turns … they will try to convince themself as much as they want, but the smell will never go away. “ it’s in my clothes, it’s everywhere, i ” frida chokes out. voice wavers, finger curl, nose crinkles, eyes widen. cognac couldn’t fix the pit in their stomach. “ i’m supposed to drive. i’m supposed to be a bodyguard every now and then. i never signed up for this ” a fuckin’ harsh reality, isn’t it ??? fingers rake through hair and pull, spine twisting as she keels over. jamie is in school, probably in fifth period, toiling over an AP history test or something like that. he doesn’t know a thing. he doesn’t know anything, except that she won’t be home for dinner. as far as he’s aware, she’s working another back-to-back shift. but alas : “ i had to i had to kill him. it was him or my brother. and they probably would’ve made me watch. ”
The Feeling of Love (Closed rp)
Tagged: @miercolaes continued from here.
"Okay," Kit answered, taking a deep breath, "Wednesday, you are the most bewitching creature I have ever seen."
Kit was nervous. He had a crush on Wednesday. Ever since they met in the music room at Nevermore. Kit was an anxious person. Wednesday made him feel something he never felt with his ex-boyfriend. Wednesday was blunt, but Kit would rather have it blunt than have it sugarcoated.