#thingclair

Not the official account posting

THINGCLAIR

Enid stared at the text:

> "Sorry babe, busy training with the gorgons. Rain check?" – Ajax

She scoffed.

“Rain check? It’s been raining in my soul since Tuesday.”

She threw her phone on the bed dramatically and sighed like a rejected Disney princess. The dorm room was silent. Wednesday wasn’t here — probably stabbing a squirrel for science again.

Enid lay back. Stared at the ceiling.

“I swear, if one more guy tells me he’s busy, I’m gonna start dating the next living thing I see.”

Thing crawling slowly up the side of her bed.

Enid blinked.

“...No. Not you.”

Thing tilted slightly.

One finger pointed at himself.

"Me? 🥺"

She covered her face with a pillow.

“OH MY GOD, I WAS JOKING!!...I think.”

Thing paused. Then gently tapped her arm.

She peeked at him.

“You’re not even a guy. You’re a hand.”

Thing dramatically clutched his chest like “Ouch. That hurt.”

Enid rolled her eyes, but she laughed — and suddenly she didn’t feel so invisible.

He crawled over and laid his hand on her chest.

Right over her heart.

Warm. Comforting.

She bit her lip.

“...You always know when I need someone.”

Then slowly — his fingers moved lower.

Under her sweater.

Tracing her skin like braille.

Every goosebump. Every sigh.

“You’re so good at this it’s scary,” she whispered. “Like... are you studying me?”

Thing paused. Then gave one dramatic, affirmative thumbs-up.

She smiled sadly.

“At least someone pays attention.”

Her breath hitched when he slid between her legs. Fingers working soft and slow like he was listening to her body. And he was. Better than Ajax ever had.

Half-lidded eyes. Cheeks pink. Lips parted.

“This is insane…” she moaned. “I’m literally being fingered by a finger.”

She suddenly burst into laughter through her moans.

I LOVE THINGCLAIR

(MyThing 😳🤯)

"I've spent many a day with this guy." 👹

"His finger's going crazy!"

...And Agnes suddenly appearing, her phone in hand as she recorded it all.

Enid, claws out: I SWEAR TO GOD, I'LL —

Agnes: Retract your claws, Dingleberry Shortcake. Your handy secret's safe with me...so long as you never interfere in my business with Wednesday again.

Professional, or otherwise. *big smile*

Of course. She and Thing are committed.

And she doesn't get to "keep" him. He's not an object or a pet. They're ✨lovers✨. Look at her look of relief when she saved his bones/life:

They'll go off hand in hand into the moonlight preferably with his digits wedged pretty far up her wolfy vag.