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21 • bisexual • Taurus • she/they

[clevermanka]

Original tweet

[theanishimori]

[kingscrown666]

I think the logic here is:

>we save people from fires

>fires can kill anyone, including queer people

>we also save queer people from fires

And in an age where paramedics legally refused to save the life of a trans car crash victim, that’s an important sentiment to state

[wildhumanhasappeared]

Grabs a sharpie and adds “And Neither Do We”

[moonlight-and-mantles]

Don’t worry, it’s there lol.

[spicymochi]

choose your fav tiny cat

[majdfamilysingaza]

I am not Christian…

but I know that Jesus taught love, mercy, and standing beside the broken ✝️🤍

That is why I am telling you about Majd…

a little boy who lost his mother, lost his home, and still somehow tries to smile 😔

In every faith, and in every human heart, there is a place for compassion.

And if the teachings of Christ call people to protect the weak and comfort the suffering, then Majd needs that compassion now more than ever.

Please do not see him as just another headline from Gaza…

see him as a child who once laughed, dreamed, and believed the world was a gentle place 💔

Maybe you cannot stop the war…

but you can still help a child feel that the world has not forgotten him 🙏

[sillypotatochipz]

I love you mysterious cat

It hungers

[ponsukefan]

candy colored misery

the color of your mind

[beardedmrbean]

[blogofex]

These guys would be the biggest hit at any Renaissance fair they went to.

[therobotmonster]

An envoy from a kingdom in the far East comes to your hamlet and of course you give them a warm welcome!

Do you have any idea what access to the spice road would do for the tiny Dukedom of Fairground By the Budget Hilton?

[voiceofaboud]

ISRAEL IS NOT A NATION.

IT IS A CRIMINAL TERRORIST ORGANIZATION.

IF YOU AGREE WITH ME, SIMPLY REPOST THIS.

[voiceofaboud]

[voiceofaboud]

This shocking image shows an Israeli soldier promoting his jewelry business using a Palestinian father he arrested from his home just last night.

[voiceofaboud]

My mother is now in intensive care after her brother was arrested and my father was killed.

I am extremely sick and suffering. Please donate if you can, and don’t forget my little siblings after me.

CHUFFED - PAYPAL - VERIFIED

[aboodgaza0]

please share

[thelaurenshippen]

[graffitinight]

When you try to talk about enshittification, it sounds like conspiracy theories. (I'm not crazy)

Amazon made their service worse, to force people to pay for Prime.

Nowadays, if you order from Amazon, there is a week long delay before your package is shipped. (on purpose)

I remember when orders would ship out the same day. (I remember - it was real)

YouTube didn't used to have ads. Now, ads play in the middle of videos. (it's worse than TV ever was)

The best can opener I have owned is over 40 years old. Modern ones just don't hold up as well. (The ones I bought new broke ages ago)

The bread machine my mom got for her wedding lasted 30 years. It's been replaced twice in the last 5 years. (How can you fuck this up?)

The cardboard tubes in the middle of toilet paper rolls have gotten larger. (This too?) Companies increasing the price of the product while selling you less. (REALLY?)

It sounds crazy. (it's the truth) When you talk about it, YOU sound crazy. (it's true)

Even when people believe you (do they really), all they can say is "it sucks". (it's too big) Because the problem is so big, so pervasive, what can we even DO about it???

To get the necessary laws written and passed, we need politicians, to get the politicians elected we need information campaigns, to fund campaigns we need money, and all the money is being hoarded by the people profiting from enshittification. (it sounds so fake)

So I talk about enshittification (it sounds crazy), so people don't forget that things have been made worse on purpose (it's true), even though I sound crazy. (maybe I am)

[momopatchi]

A bunch of horse doodles for the new year

[wolfertinger666]

black nerds and cosplayers and artists fucking deserve better man.

[wolfertinger666]

idk if you know, but it's genuinely infuriating and tiring being one of the only demographic of people that's essentially barred from any sort of enjoyment without racism everywhere.

(do not derail this topic. it's about black people and black people only)

[oobbbear]

I drew this stupid burger I saw that brings me comfort and joy

[nadin2003]

🕊 Nadin’s Hope: A Mother, A Memory, A Future

Hello, my name is Nadin. I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate, a wife—and now, a mother.

I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.

Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.

On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home, killing 25 members—his mother, siblings, nieces and nephews—entire branches of our family in seconds.

We were displaced twice. Everything was gone—home, safety, routine, rest.

A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebration—not even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.

Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.

Today, Israel’s government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forces—not Israel—but with no clear path to peace or normalcy.

The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.

Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.

We Don’t Know What Comes Next There’s no clear path forward—only uncertainty for our daughter’s life and our ability to survive another day.

Nadin’s Hope: Rebuilding Life for a Mother and Child

My name is Nadin, and I’m a mother from Gaza.

How You Can Help I’m asking for support—not for comfort, but for survival:

Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.

Support us as I try to stand again on my own feet—even a glimmer of stability matters.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you can give—thank you. If you can’t—just sharing this post is a lifeline I will never forget.

[morickyyy]

[deltasblue]

Take a stance and be on the right side of history, so that when you look in the mirror, you know you didn’t ignore the pleas of innocent people, begging for anyone to help them! To know that you where not complicit in the murder and genocide of a people! To know that you didn’t look the other way when you knew children where being murdered just because it was easier than facing the morbid truth!! Share, reblog and donate what you can!!

[nourasbasha]

Is it possible that after two years of genocide, after everything we owned was destroyed and our city turned into ruins and a city of ghosts… you choose to leave us now?! How can you sleep while my four children sleep surrounded by destruction . in a place now only inhabited by rats, mosquitoes, snakes… and also ghosts, darkness, and fear?

[nourasbasha]

My children are still terrified of the life we live now .. after a trauma that shattered their minds and hearts, after witnessing the bombing, the massacres, the genocide scenes no child should ever see. Who will heal them? Who will bring them safety again? They need psychological care, they need someone to restore their trust in life. I’m just a father who lost everything, trying only to keep them alive.

[nourasbasha]

I’m sorry that all I can do is ask for your help… This war is bigger than me . it needs countries to bear its weight, not a simple man like me. If you still see us as human beings, then do something.

Your donation isn’t just charity . it’s a humanitarian act that saves lives. Don’t underestimate your share or your repost; it could be the difference between life and death, between a child who survives and another who doesn’t. Please, don’t look away… we’re still here, trying to survive 💔

[anqerr]

How can anyone scroll past this while a father and his four children are still living among ruins, rats, and fear? Do you really think the war ending means their suffering ended too? The bombs stopped, but their pain never did.

This man lost everything . his home, his safety, his hope , and yet he’s still begging for his children’s right to live.

Shame on this world if we let them fade into darkness. Don’t just watch. Help. Donate. Reblog. Speak. Your silence is part of the crime. 💔

[isaacnights]

wreath of roses around a dark heart — [wednesday addams/reader/tyler galpin]

content warning: voyeurism, threesome, emotional manipulation

authors note: wednesday addams x reader — wednesday does not give a fuck about tyler or xavier, tyler galpin x reader x xavier thorpe but it felt too clunky to include. they are the main pairing, and i don’t envision percy as xavier — i picture ethan cutkosky as him, but you’re free to headcanon anyone.

word count: 4k

preview: “I get it," you say, trying to keep a straight face and when Wednesday looks at you out of the corner of her eye, you can't resist adding with mock solemnity, "I also love it when men die for me."

“I have to admit, I’m both impressed and disappointed,” Wednesday reveals, dispassionately looking at Xavier and Tyler engage in an amicable exhibition of camaraderie by the snacks table that now had crumpled cocktail napkins and half-eaten confectionaries that party-goers had surmised weren’t actually tasty at the second bite. There is a lack of animosity that had been present for the first few months of your knowing them. Most of it, you could admit, was in fact, Tyler’s fault — he’d even had the good sense to confess to it. His remorseful tone had temporarily mollified Xavier’s ire.

“Disappointed?” you inquire curiously, peeling the cupcake casing before taking an abundant bite.

“Yes, actually. I was looking forward to a fight till death over your hand,” she admits, looking more sullen than usual.

“Oh Wednesday,” you coo, “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

“I enjoy a grand gesture with a subsequent death,” she muses.

"I get it," you say, trying to keep a straight face and when Wednesday looks at you out of the corner of her eye, you can't resist adding with mock solemnity, "I also love it when men die for me."

Silence hangs in the air like a head in a tightened noose until Wednesday’s voice cuts into it. “Fine. I’ll bite.”

“I’m sure you will,” you grin wolfishly.

She ignores your comment. “How did you do it?”

“I could show you,” you offer, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Your paramours would despise that. A tempting offer, I’m almost inclined to agree,” she replies and it’s a little hard to tell with Wednesday but you think she’s being genuine — or at least she finds the prospect of Xavier and Tyler hating something she was the cause of, appealing.

“But,” she interjects, impeding your thoughts from running wild. “I don’t like being touched.”

You hum thoughtfully. “You like to watch?”

She pauses, and considers this question thoroughly before answering with a simple, “yes.”

You nod and your voice dips lower so no one can hear what you’re talking about. “You wanna touch?”

She stares ahead, letting the question sink in, then says, “not them. Just you.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Didn’t think you were interested in me.”

Wednesday lapses back into her dreary silence.

“Wait, do you like me?” This was news to you. For the longest time, you thought she had been barely tolerating you for Tyler’s company. Or more accurately, his aptitude for getting her what she needs for her ongoing investigation. Tyler had conjectured that they were friends based on their minimal interactions and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that Wednesday didn’t do friends but at the same time you’re positive that she had most definitely made that fact perspicuous.

She glares daggers at you. Don’t push it.

“I’ll talk to them,” you concede. “If either of them says no, then the whole thing’s off.”

She rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

.

Xavier’s place is huge; embellished with ornate furniture that seems to be customized to the Thorpe’s liking. His bedroom feels more personalized, however, and out of all the rooms in the manor, it was your favorite. Taped on his walls were a cluster of sketches of both you and Tyler. An odd one of Wednesday and any prophetic dreams he had. Most of it is nonsensical. You’d ask him about any dreams that plagued him often and he’d confide in you, even if they didn’t make much sense. It just felt good to share them with people so he didn’t feel like he was spiraling. His father had enough diatribes, he didn’t want to hear any new additions.

“You’ve made Tyler a muse too?” Wednesday asks, vetting the sketches. It sounds a lot like goading. You don’t mention the copious amounts of leather journals with provocative delineations of both you and Tyler in compromising positions nor the concealed canvases depicting the same thing in higher quality paints.

Xavier shoots her a dark look, then an exasperated one at you. “Is she gonna be like this the entire time?”

“You know what she’s like,” you reason and he softens but not without rolling his eyes. You take it as a begrudging acceptance.

You turn to her. “Wednesday,” you croon, “remember what I said about being nice and what it gets you.”

“I’m beginning to understand,” she begins, her unwavering stare meeting Tyler’s. Who usually engages in a one-sided conversation with Wednesday but not today. He seems on edge, observing her like she’s an anomaly which is strange for two reasons: they’d both acquiesced when you had made the offer and out of the two, Tyler is the one who actively seeks out her company.

“Understand what?” he bites out.

Wednesday’s dull, lifeless eyes light up in amusement and she raises a brow. “What you see in her.”

From what you know about Wednesday, you understand that this isn’t entirely a compliment. She’s doing it to rile up Tyler. And it’s working.

Xavier goes to stand next to him, arm nudging Tyler when he crosses them and Tyler finally looks away and at you; there’s an intensity to him, a possessive glint in his eyes.

“If you’ve changed your mind…” you taper off.

“No,” Tyler says with a frown. “I want her to see what she can’t have.”

“And here I thought you liked me,” Wednesday intones laconically, not particularly caring about Tyler’s opinion of her but intrigued by this sudden change in demeanor. This confused you to no end, Tyler was usually the level-headed one out of the two, it was much easier to get a rise out of Xavier and you were under the impression that Wednesday was on good terms with Tyler. You brush this thought off; obviously, there is a soupçon of acrimony when your partner allows a voyeur into the room.

Xavier cuts in, divesting his shirt and pants. “Tyler. You wanna go first?”

Tyler hesitates for a moment like he’s just remembering where he is then licks his lips. “Yeah.”

“Interesting,” Wednesday comments.

Xavier opens his mouth to retort.

“Kiss me, Xavi.” You let yourself get comfortable on his bed, holding yourself up on your forearms.

His mouth dries up at the sight of you and he follows you, tall body hunched over your relaxed frame. He kisses you long and slow, slim fingers curling around the nape of your neck and pushing you in closer, occasionally tugging at the coils.

You tilt your head up and Xavier leaves open-mouthed kisses along your jawline before dragging himself back, watching Tyler move to encapsulate you in a covetous kiss, maneuvring you so that your back hits the soft, fresh linen of Xavier’s bed.

“How do you want me?” you murmur against his lips.

He pulls back with that gentle crooked smile you love. “Normally, on top of me,” he glances back on Wednesday, “but right now, I wanna fuck you like this.”

“Yeah? Want Xavi to hold me open?”

Tyler groans and Xavier takes this as a sign to hold one of your thighs and spread you open, rubbing a thumb down your slit, eyebrows flying up at how wet you are already.

“Shit, you’re soaked already,” he says. “Don’t even have to get you ready. Come feel her, Ty.”

Tyler swipes his thumb at your cunt and you quiver, your cunt fluttering around nothing, slick gushing out of you and coating his hand.

“Is this for her?” he asks slowly, thumb spreading the wetness and rubbing careful circles at your clit.

“No,” you gasp out at the contact. “‘s for you and Xav. Just you two.” You raise your head to look at where he’s touching only to immediately throw it back onto a pillowcase encased in silk — something that Xavier had specifically bought for you should your head wraps come loose while you were spending the night. You take to tilting your head to the side, watching Xavier steadily stroking the length of his cock.

“Shit, Xavi,” you moan, holding out a hand for him, which he is quick to grasp, thumb tenderly stroking the back of it. “You look so good.”

His mouth is popped open but he graces you with an open-mouthed smirk at your comment, hand twisting around himself. He feels a little lightheaded from the way your pretty cunt glistens. “If you think I’m the one that looks good then I have to get a mirror in here.”

Tyler lines his cock up at your entrance, a feather-light hovering as he rubs it along your folds, coating the length of it with your wetness, then uses his hand to press the weight down, rutting himself against you.

“Ty?” you whisper tentatively.

“Hm?” His voice is strained, distracted but he still lifts his head to look at you.

“Can Xavi come hold me?”

He chuckles. “Uh, I think he’s a little busy...”

You give a little fucked-out grin to Xavier who hasn’t taken his eyes off you before remembering that Wednesday is there, cloistered exactly where you left her and not a step closer. You notice she hasn’t even sat down, her hands by her side. “You know you can touch yourself too, Wednesday?”

“I’m here to watch,” she says monotonously. "And I'm not interested in pleasuring myself."

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean you’d just be stood there doing nothing.”

“I’m enjoying myself, can’t you tell?” Her eyes remain cadaver-like, and her cute plum-lacquered mouth is pressed firmly together.

“Not really.” In all honesty, you couldn’t tell when she was enjoying herself unless there were very specific tells: a razor-sharp glint in her eyes, the beginnings of a dimple that had endeared her to you in the first place — a physical trait she shares with Xavier. The former you rarely had the pleasure of seeing.

“I am,” she repeats, then makes an offer that confounds you all. “I can come and… hold you.” To harshen the blow, she adds, “seeing as Xavier is preoccupied with his own pleasure.”

Xavier sneers at her blatant heckling.

“No, I like it, he does it for me,” you say defensively. And it’s true — Xavier enjoys fucking your mouth over jerking off. It isn’t until he realized the effect pleasuring himself had on you that he started doing it more. “I love watching him, it makes me feel so good. Can always feel my fingers slide inside myself easier when he does.”

Xavier whimpers, pale cheeks mottled with poppy-red; a look that makes you beam at him, infused with an amalgamation of arousal and puerile joy.

“You should come closer,” you beguile, a smile gracing your face.

“Nice try,” he scoffs. His eyes gloss over as he trails them down your body. He has to forcefully tear them away from you with a shaky exhale so he doesn’t cum there and then.

You spread yourself open with one hand, sending Tyler a coy smile which he amusedly mirrors. “But I want you to feel me from inside. Wanna feel you deep in my throat.”

His dick visibly twitches. “Shut up,” he hisses, embarrassed that he’s already so close.

Tyler calls out your name, voice cracking, “you’re killing me here. Need you so bad.”

You grin, the back of your hand stroking along the apple of his cheek. “Not yet. Let her come closer.”

His hips stutter at the contact, grinding his dick against your cunt and he leans his face into your touch.

He lets out a disbelieving laugh like he can’t believe he’s doing this and looks over his shoulder. “Wednesday?”

“Tyler,” she acknowledges.

He leans back, hooking your thighs around his hips. “Come and give her what she needs.”

Wednesday takes calculated steps, warily eyeing Xavier and then Tyler before methodically taking off her shoes and ensconcing herself behind you. Her long black pleated skirt fans out on Xavier’s bed and you peer up at her with an idyllic smile. “Hi.”

“Hello,” she replies flatly.

You hold out your hand for her to tentatively clasp hers around.

Tyler shakes his head and you curl your calf around his waist. “Still okay with it? It’s okay if you change your mind.

“Yeah, no. I’m good. This is… I wasn’t expecting it,” he divulges. “Guess you could say I’m still getting used to it.”

“Don’t,” Wednesday deadpans.

He takes his dick into his hand, tapping the head of it against your swollen clit, failing to hide a grin when he feels your thighs tremble around him. He nudges the tip between your folds, allowing you to soak the head of it to facilitate an easier fit.

His breath catches in his throat and you have to hold back a snarky comment at his slackened jaw.

Your hips buck, wanting nothing more to ease the dull ache inside you. “ C’mon. Fuck me.”

Tyler sighs. “Yeah… yeah . Hold on a sec.” He slowly inches his length inside you, grinning when he feels your legs push him closer, hips twitching impatiently. “Wanna fill you all the way up.”

You wail when he pushes himself all the way in, hands flailing against the bed sheets, Wednesday’s skirt, her hand. Anything you can reach for. You scramble up to see exactly what he’s doing with the support of Wednesday’s body. She’s rigid behind you, arms held out mechanically as she holds your hands.

Tyler’s cock throbs. “That’s it, there you go.” And he begins to thrust at a steady pace, pulling out a series of gasps from you, manicured nails digging into the back of Wednesday’s hand. The sting of pain doesn’t deter her, she just tightens her hold on you, a visible tick in her jaw from how hard she’s clenching it.

“Fuck,” you pant, dizzy at the stretch, searing, white-hot pleasure that erupts in your stomach, coiling and tightening each time Tyler’s hips collide with your quivering thighs, the slick crash of skin against skin resonating through your whole body. “Feels so big.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunts, lips ghosting over the soft skin of your neck. “It’s all yours.” He lifts your leg up, the crux of your knee sitting atop his shoulder.

“That all it takes for you to forget about me, huh?” Xavier jokes dryly.

“You can join him, y’know?”

The blush on Xavier’s face makes you laugh into Tyler’s neck.

He fucks into you with a renowned vigor and you attempt to lift your hips to meet his movements halfway. With a grit of his teeth, he pushes himself up and drags you out of Wednesday’s hold, your back arching into him as you cry out when you feel the drag of his cock against your velvet-soft walls.

“Shit!” you moan, the pressure in your belly winding up tight. “Xavi. Xavi.”

“Yeah, I got you,” Xavier murmurs, pressing a knee into his mattress as he leans over you. He presses his thumb to your clit and feels you jolt with a breathless laugh, then takes it between his forefinger and thumb and gently pinches it as he watches Tyler’s cock move in and out of you. He catches your lips in a fervent, desperate kiss despite you not being able to return it.

“Squeezing me so tight,” Tyler murmurs.

Your whine metamorphoses into a scream and you thrash your head against Wednesday’s chest, pushing up for a modicum of reprieve from Tyler’s incessant fucking. Xavier, unable to tear his lips from you, takes to leaving wet kisses on your cheek and jaw— wherever he is able to reach. You feel yourself tighten around the girth of Tyler’s cock before you cum.

“I love you,” you gasp out, clinging onto him, nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders and side. His hips stagger and he whines, nose digging into your cheek as he pants into the side of your face. He nudges Xavier’s nose with his own and Xavier laughs, pressing a kiss to the corner of Tyler’s unresponsive mouth as his strokes become uneven.

Tyler groans, his body stiffening as he spills his cum into you, the act prolonged, as if he’s unwilling to relinquish the sensation, to let the moment slip into the void where pleasure eventually dissipates into memory. His hips falter, though his gaze doesn’t waver from the juncture where the two of you remain locked. He’s utterly consumed by the sight of his own release mingling with yours, the mingling of fluids, the almost alchemical way in which they combine—an exchange both primal and grotesquely intimate. His movements become languid, deliberate, as if relishing this convergence. His hand drifts lower, the back of his finger grazing the raw nerve of your clit, eliciting an involuntary lurch from your hips—a jolt of response so instinctual, it almost betrays you. Tyler’s eyelids flutter, a sigh, more akin to a growl, escapes him, rasping and coarse. “You always smell so good,” he rasps, the words heavy, weighted with a dark reverence, a proprietary tone woven into the thick cadence of satisfaction.

Wednesday’s voice cuts through like ice breaking the surface of still water. “I wasn’t aware you had such strong olfactory senses, Tyler,” she remarks, every syllable sharpened, wielded with precision. The words hang, cool and surgical, punctuating the thickened air, though her eyes—those black, inescapable eyes—remain fixed entirely on you, as if you are some enigmatic puzzle only she can solve.

Tyler, for all his fixation, barely acknowledges her remark, absorbed as he is in the overwhelming tide of his own pleasure, too far gone to wade into the depth of her observations. His brow furrows, confusion etching across his face, the barest hint of recognition flickering but quickly drowned out. “Uh… sure, I guess,” he mutters, as though responding to a question in a dream, untethered from reality.

"Wednesday," Xavier's voice crackles with tension, a low, simmering warning. His posture is taut, shoulders rigid as his gaze sharpens, flicking between you and her, suspicion twisting his expression into something clenched, controlled, yet barely holding back a deeper unease. He knows this moment is anything but benign.

“I am simply stating a fact,” Wednesday replies, unperturbed, cool as ever, her focus unwavering, fixated. Her hand moves with calculated calm, her thumb swiping the corner of your mouth, dabbing away the glistening thread of drool as if this, too, is part of her methodical observation. The gesture is absent of affection or tenderness—no more than the cleaning of an experiment’s residue.

Xavier watches her, his lips drawing into a taut line, the controlled façade beginning to crack under the weight of a realization that gnaws at the edges of his mind. He scoffs, though the sound is hollow, resigned. You see it in the flicker of his gaze, the way he shifts his weight. There had been a strangeness from the start, hadn’t there? The way you’d first introduced the idea—how carefully, how cautiously you’d broached Wednesday’s involvement in all of this. The absurdity of it. Wednesday Addams, whose very presence seemed an antithesis to any form of intimacy, let alone this kind of carnal entanglement. And yet, somehow, here she was.

But now, standing on the precipice of understanding, it all begins to crystallize in Xavier’s mind. Of course, Wednesday had ulterior motives. She always did. How had he been so blind, so hopelessly naïve, to think otherwise? His own infatuation, his own delusions, had cloaked her in some false mystique, some foolish romanticism. He’d allowed himself to be deceived, to view her through the cracked lens of his own making.

“Right…” Tyler’s voice, slow and uncertain, trails off, the confusion on his face deepening, thickening in the charged air. He senses it too now—the subtle shift, the unspoken change in atmosphere. There’s something darker, heavier, settling over all of you, like a storm cloud rolling in just before it breaks.

You stir slightly, your mind still fogged, the remnants of your shared pleasure clinging to your thoughts like a mist. “Feel like I’m missing something,” you murmur, your voice barely audible, a soft, questioning lilt beneath the languid drowsiness still rippling through your body. It’s a quiet confession of your own bewilderment, spoken aloud without the expectation of an answer.

Xavier’s eyes, hard-edged moments before, soften at the sound of your voice. There’s something almost protective in the way his gaze shifts toward you, his hand flexing as though he’s contemplating reaching out, but doesn’t. His response, though gentle, is taut with residual tension. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, though the tightness in his jaw betrays his words. He flicks his gaze back to Wednesday, unable to shake the gnawing distrust clawing at the corners of his mind. “Wednesday needs to go.”

You blink, still adrift in the aftermath, struggling to reconcile the abrupt shift in tone. “Already?” you ask, your voice tinged with surprise, almost disappointment, as if something vital is being cut short before you’ve had the chance to fully comprehend it.

Wednesday shifts minutely, her posture as rigid as ever, her stillness unnerving. Her gaze remains pinned to you, her expression inscrutable, a mask of cold, deliberate calculation. “Yes. This was… enjoyable,” she says, though the flatness of her tone makes the word feel clinical, stripped of warmth, as though she were commenting on a fleeting curiosity. “I am… willing to do it again.”

A smile curls at the edges of your lips, a slow, unhurried grin that spreads as you instinctively lean into her orbit, a heat reigniting in your chest. You open your mouth, ready to respond, to agree, to push for more, but Xavier’s voice slices through before you can speak, his frustration bleeding into the air, thickening it like a toxin.

“The next time you want to accuse either of us of something,” Xavier says, his tone sharper now, hard as flint, as his gaze locks onto Wednesday with an intensity that borders on fury, “don’t drag our girlfriend into it. This was low, even for you.”

The accusation lands like a stone, heavy, sinking into the charged atmosphere. Your brow furrows, confusion knotting your features as you try to make sense of the sudden shift in the dynamic, the weight of what he’s saying settling slowly into the back of your mind. You start to form a response, to ask what he means, but Tyler’s hand wraps gently around your wrist, pulling you closer to him, as if to shield you from whatever is unfolding between the others. You can tell he knows too. His touch is soft, protective, but there’s an underlying tension in the way his fingers hold you, something unspoken in his need to pull you close.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Wednesday’s voice cuts through, ice-cold and precise, as though carved from the very air itself, untouched by the undercurrent of tension now thickening the room like smoke. Her gaze—obsidian, all-consuming—remains resolutely locked on you, a stare so unwavering it feels like the weight of the universe is pressing against your skin. “I didn’t come here for either of you.” The words fall from her lips with a lethargic grace, each syllable deliberate, measured, like the final strokes of an artist painting a canvas with the dark, inevitable truth. “But I will admit, observing Tyler was simply an added bonus,” she continues, as though the revelation were an afterthought, a footnote in a grander scheme, devoid of any real significance to her.

Her admission, devoid of any flourish or drama, lands with the weight of a cold, merciless stone sinking into the depths of a dark lake. The ripples spread slowly, but with the kind of inevitability that crushes breath from the room. Tyler’s hand tightens around your wrist, a reflexive squeeze, his body instinctively reacting to the shifting reality, though his mind seems slow to catch up. Xavier, meanwhile, remains still, stiff and unyielding: his face a portrait of dawning comprehension, the sharp lines of his jaw tightening as the full, chilling weight of Wednesday’s words settles into his bones.

[twitchywitchywizard-deactivated]

im late but this fic got me feeling like this

[isaacnights]

omg thanks for reading!! 🖤💖 and ngl if they do bring xavier back i dont want that freak of a man playing him!

[stinson-png-deactivated20210103]

“Girls want a Superman, but they walk past a Clark Kent every day”

You fuckin CLOWNS think you’re a CLARK KENT? Not on my fuckin watch. You dumb, headass motherfuckers are barely a Guy Gardner and you think you’re a CLARK KENT? The amount of disrespect is unreal.

[bairnsidhe]

Listen here, wannabes: My boi Clark is 240 lbs of PURE KANSAS BEEF trained from a young age by Ma Kent to Love and Respect women as the Intelligent, Independent beings they are.  He is shy rambling about tractors and casually moving the copy machine when my pen falls behind it and he would NEVER demand I be sexually or romantically interested just because he’s nice.

Y’all ain’t Clark Kent.

[chaosinacoffeecup]

I have never hit the reblog button so damn fast.

[therobotmonster]

“barely a Guy Gardner” is the sickest comics related burn I’ve heard to date.