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dollsbite · 2 years

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an unwanted guest.

pairing: male! wednesday addams + gn! reader

note: this is a prequel to my ghost reader fic, which can be found here. here's my yearly post, it's a bit longer than i'm used to <3

"we're expecting a guest, pugsley, please put the flamethrower down. you'll burn her hair off, my boy!" you heard the muffled scolding of the family's patriarch, gomez, echo through the walls. though you were forever bound to the house, there was one major perk to being dead: you could hear practically everything in the house, as well as phase through the walls to witness any juicy action. there was never a dull moment with a strange bunch such as the addams family. once, you witnessed fester sneakily rearranging his brother's bones while he slept, grandmama fight off a tentacled monster in the kitchen sink with a rolling pin; contently watched your beloved as he hung from the ceiling like a bat with his arms crossed.

your fond memories soon turned sour as it morphed into the true horrors you'd witnessed while residing in the mansion. on various occasions, you stumbled on more. . . intimate acts between morticia and gomez. a disgusted shiver ran down your spine. had you been able to, you would've surely lost your lunch. at least that was another positive, never having to eat, or falling under the weather.

however, you pushed those disturbing recounts aside as you focused on gomez's words. who was this 'her' he was referring to? had it been a relative or family friend, pugsley wouldn't be asked to put away such a prized possession.

with many unanswered questions swimming in your head, you realized you'd have to wait to ask wednesday until he got home. after returning from school, he very briefly stopped by to retrieve one of his textbooks, but not before informing you that he was heading to the library. you didn't have much reason to press any further, melting into his touch as he lovingly pet your head.

with a hefty sigh, a few wisps of icy vapor fell from your gaped mouth. a large, mischievous grin graced your lips when you thought of the perfect way to kill time. your skin turned a transparent gray as you shifted through the walls of the mansion, body floating gracefully into the greenhouse. your eyes fell on morticia's flowerbed, white irises gleaming with mischief.

time seemed to fly by as you 'redecorated' (or rather destroyed) the rows of flowers. you had fun tearing the blooming roses apart, lifting them up and pulling the petals from the stems one-by-one. you even figured out how to make your own makeshift spike bombs by ripping the thorns and expelling them into the air with brute force.

just as you were creating a pattern of torn petals, you heard the front door open. excitedly, you perked up at the sound of creaking wood, phasing through the walls into the foyer. morticia and gomez surrounded their son, his mother pulling him in for an unwanted bone-crushing hug. once you saw him, you held a love-struck expression, hearts practically forming in your eyes.

"this is moiria, she's my partner," wednesday gestured to the pretty girl standing awkwardly beside him. the redhead gave them an uneasy smile, fixing her hair as she waved to them.

"oh, wednesday, she's absolutely lovely! you didn't tell us you had a girlfriend," gomez was ecstatic as he and morticia shared a loving gaze. what could be better than young love?

"she's not my girlfriend - we're just working on a project together," wednesday explained, devoid of any emotion. his expression was apathetic; he silently hoped that his parents wouldn't push the idea further.

his voice was exaggerated, hoping it would be loud enough for you to hear. he didn't have much interest in this living, breathing girl: he wanted you. it didn't matter to him that you lacked a pulse and a beating heart, he absolutely loved you. well, he told you he tolerated you, but he knew you understood what he meant.

however, at that point, you tuned everything out, body melting into the walls as you gloomily hovered into wednesday's room. your body grew heavier as you changed your form into a more solidified version, making yourself comfortable on his bed. despite the messy covers and spider infestation, the mattress was fairly comfortable. you eased into his pillow, squishing your face against the material, enjoying his calming scent of cologne with a hint of copper - most likely blood.

you gripped the plush material, hugging it close to your chest. wednesday wouldn't replace you, would he? what did that bag of meat have that you didn't? she's still breathing and can actually leave the house, a cruel voice whispered in the back of your head. it was true. wednesday would probably be better off dating her - no more dates restricted to the family graveyard; he wouldn't nearly freeze to death while she lays her head on his chest.

with a devilish smirk, you slowly began to piece together a plan of sorts - one that would surely scare the pants off the unwanted guest.

a delightful smell wafted from the kitchen; it was evident that dinner had been served. like a snake ready to pounce, you hovered over the unsuspecting moiria. the girl was picking at her food with a look of disgust on her face. how ungrateful. grandmama spent hours slaving away to prepare that meal, even bringing out her finest plates and silverware.

you giggled, getting into position under the table. you watched contently as your hand shifted, morphing into bloodied, sharp claws. your fingers were unnaturally long and slender, the skin on your knuckles melting away to expose the bone. it was delightfully horrifying.

before the main event, you decided to toy with your victim; running a nail lightly over her leg. moiria's brows furrowed as she glanced underneath the tablecloth, confusion lacing her features. she went back to poking at her chicken which was no doubt cold by now.

"what. . . ?" moiria muttered in confusion. she stared at her plate, watching as the chicken breast began to convulse. her eyes were practically burning a hole into the meat as it pulsed, though, the hosts were too occupied with sword fighting at the table to notice. the girl hadn't anticipated that a vile-looking hand would burst through. moiria let out a shrill, panicked scream as the hand lunged forward, wrapping around her face. sharp nails scrapped against her skin as she struggled to break free.

the entire addams family watched as their guest cried her lungs out, thrashing around like a wild animal. not a soul came to her aid - in fact - it seemed as though they were enjoying the spectacle. pugsley was leering at the distressed girl, wednesday smirked as he continued to enjoy his food, even little pubert was clapping his hands together with joy.

after what felt like an eternity of torture, you finally decided you let her go because you figured you had your fair share of fun. moiria was bewildered, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. she stood abruptly from the table, standing so fast that she knocked her chair over. moiria hadn't said a word, instead, she rushed to the door.

"wait!" wednesday spoke up between a mouthful of mashed potatoes, "what about our project?"

moiria scoffed, bellowing an angered, "do it yourself! you're all crazy," before she left and slammed the door behind her.

"please come again soon!" gomez shouted after her but it was obvious that wednesday's classmate would never return.

after finishing his meal, wednesday excused himself from the table. with a full stomach and the thrill of his own personal horror show still fresh, he made himself comfortable in his room. as he nestled into his bed with his arms crossed like a corpse, he could feel the room grow colder. it was no doubt his mischievous ghost.

cold arms nestled around his waist, the bed dipping with weight.

"what was that today?" his tone was bordering one of disappointment. the hug he was enveloped in slightly loosened.

"that was incredible. her face was priceless." wednesday praised, the corners of his lips lifting; it wasn't quite a smile but it a start.

you crystalized in front of him, nuzzling his nose as he shuddered in delight, "i knew you'd love it."

#wednesday addams #male! wednesday addams #male! wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #the addams family #the addams family fanfic #the addams family fanfiction #the addams family x reader #reader insert #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #gn!reader #ghost! reader #x reader

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bingo6776 · 1 year

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Confrontation 2/2

wednesday addams x reader

3.8k

sorry there is so little dialogue! i have no idea how i want to write wednesday yet. also, this is definitely not proof read, but we move

feel free to give me tips on how to improve, or ideas for more x reader or maybe wenclair fics!

twitter: @mozzarella_ball

ao3: :Im_Just_Gay

Wednesday was well aware that she was difficult, stubborn, and obsessive. They were traits she had spent years cultivating to perfection.

She never thought that she would one day be wishing she perhaps hadn’t gotten locking her emotions away down to such an art that she was no longer sure how she could express, or even feel them really. In a healthy way, that is.

That’s why she had warned you against dating her a year prior, oh how you should have listened.

Yet when your mind flicked back to the moment when you had confessed your undying adoration for the dark-haired girl, you didn’t think of the warnings that fell from her lips, only how there seemed to be no real bite to words, and how delicate and cold her lips would feel against your own. It was safe to say that from day one, Wednesday had avoided committing herself to you in a multitude of ways, to protect your untainted heart.

She had sworn to herself that when you finally saw her for who she was, she would let you go, reasoning that if she kept a modicum of distance between the two of you, she wouldn’t grow overly attached.

But now Wednesday had had a taste of what it was like to be wholly yours, and for you to be hers.

It was euphoric.

The bliss that usually filled her, therefore, being suddenly ripped from her because of her own faults made her feel like she had been dropped headfirst into a vat of acid, her skin melting off of her body, the fatal liquid slowly forcing its way to the traitorous organ that was her heart. Wednesday knew she would much prefer for this to be her reality compared to the path her life was taking now, without you.

Perhaps she was meant to be alone, to continue her bleak existence in solitude, not only for her own sake but to protect those she loved from the destruction she wreaked onto their lives.

She was a Raven, after all.

And then she was pulled from herself destructive monologue when her embodiment-of-a-rainbow roommate all but smashed through the door.

“Okay, Addams, brutal honesty time. You’re in pain, and don’t deny it, its obvious. But you need to get your shit together. I’m sorry you’re suffering, but that does not mean you get to force every student who slightly bugs you to suffer with you,” the blonde huffed, her fists clenched by her side as she stood by Wednesdays bed.

The furious werewolf only amused the girl, because she could make them suffer, and she would continue to do so, quite happily actually.

Wednesday only smirked in response, turning back to the novel in her lap – she hadn’t been able to properly read without getting distracted since you had left, yet it was still a good prop for getting people to leave her alone. If you hadt wormed your way into her black heart, she would have had grandmama unleash thousands of curses upon you and your family for being the only thing she could think of.

However, the book was failing her, if Enid’s consistent rant was any indication. Damn, the werewolf could talk.

“- you cannot sit in the quad shooting arrows at people chewing too loudly,” that was a reasonable response to Wednesday, maybe Xavier would finally learn some table manners, “and now Yoko is too scared to get any blood bags after you threatened to poison her for calling you ‘Nessy’,” again, beyond reasonable. A bit too lenient perhaps, she’d have to work on her threats. “You need to fix what happened between you and Y/n.”

“There is nothing to fix,” she gripped her book harder, the hardback slightly bending under the grip, “the relationship wasn’t working. She could not handle me, she left. The end.”

At that, Enid slowly exhaled through her nose, closing her eyes for a moment as she did so. “You’re my best friend, I’m worried. Y/n’s been avoiding us like the black plague when you’re around, and when she does talk to us, they aren’t the same. You’ve been well, you know, more Wednesday Addamsy, and whilst you might like to think it’s a compliment, its not. A second year almost had a break down when she bumped into you earlier, Wednesday, for gods sake.”

And for the first time in her life, Wednesday avoided eye contact so actively she wasn’t sure shed eve be able to drag her eyes up from the floor. Not for the second year, no, that was quite amusing to hear, but hearing that you had stopped spending time with your friends because of her hit a nerve she hadn’t expected it to. She hadn’t known you were making sacrifices to your social life to stay away from her.

“Suck up your pride and apologise, its for the best. You’ll both be happier for it.” And with that Enid went back to her own side of the room, whether from fear Wednesday’s next war path would be in her direction, or simply being over the levels of angst the goth had been showing for the last week, Wednesday did not know.

Wednesday hoped it was as easy as Enid made it seem.

Wednesday craved you. She craved your presence, your laugh, your touch. She missed the way you would laugh at whatever soulless pit of media you had fallen down during her writing time, she missed the feeling of you leaning against her as you painted Thing’s nails.

The never halting force of time meant that one week without you, had turned into a pitiful two weeks.

Why hadn’t you come back to her, declaring your love for each other as a stronger force than this fight?

She thought herself pathetic at the way her eyes would follow you wherever you went, latching onto you as if she were memorising every part of you until you walked away from her, again.

Once, when passing each other in the hallway, she had tried to make your eyes fall on her, to overwhelm her with your gaze.

You didn’t spare her a glance.

You had so desperately wanted to fall into the never-ending darkness that were her eyes, to let her swallow you whole, to consume you. But if she truly wanted you, would she have not made some sort of indication already? She hadn’t so much as breathed in your direction for all you knew. The key words being ‘for all you knew’, being so caught up in your own internal turmoil, you missed her seeking gaze, not seeing the way the tall Stoner girl that was walking by your side shrunk as you ex-girlfriend’s murderous eyes settled on her. She was in Wednesday’s place, by your side. Unacceptable, how dare she.

A metallic taste filled the sadists mouth as she chewed veraciously on her own cheek to stop herself from calling your name, forcing herself to believe that you are incompatible. She was too morbid and dark, you were too soft, too innocent.

She missed the way you turned around to catch a glimpse of her retreating figure.

-----

one week, to two, to three.

You didn’t know how much longer you could take of not having Wednesday, in any capacity. You had thought she would have cared for you enough to at least attempt to be friendly, as friendly as Wednesday can be anyway. God, you just wanted her to threaten your life, to say she’ll pour silver down your throat in your sleep if you laugh too loudly again, only to smirk in such a small way that only you would ever be able to catch on to it.

In your eyes, you were made from each other. Soulmates, made from the same stare, destined to live out your lives together. Apparently, she did not, over time you just hoped you could come to terms with feeling as if a limb had been sliced from your body, leaving a gaping wound and an unbearable pain in its place.

And this is the very reason why in every class the two of you shared, you practically begged one of your friends to switch with you.

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time! I’ll do whatever you want for a week,” you all but whined at Yoko, you almost cringed at how desperate you looked when you saw your reflection in her tinted glasses.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I do not, in any capacity, have a death wish. I’ve grown rather comfortable in my immortality, thank you very much,” the vampire quipped, adding a quick ‘I learned my lesson last time.’ She still hadn’t drank a meal that she wasn’t scared was tainted with Garlic, she’d run to the infirmary not once, but twice thinking she had been poisoned – the first time she had drank too quickly, so no it was not her stomach pains being the first sign of her death, the second was just pure terror of the Addams’ unwavering eyes staring at her in the quad as she ate, making Yoko certain Wednesday just didn’t want to miss a second of her future torment.

You looked up at the clock, there was only a few minutes until the class began, you knew the girl you were avoiding with everything in you would be here soon.

Sighing, you pulled out the best weapon in your arsenal. You would have felt guilty if gothic vampire hadn’t looked so smug as you begged for her to switch places with you.

“If you don’t give your seat up right now, Tanaka, I’m telling Divina that it was you who lost her favourite book, and not Ajax.” Just to ensure you were getting your point across, you looked towards the siren through the classroom window. Divina, the usually calm and collected girl, had literally hunted the gorgon boy until she tired herself out.

“You- you wouldn’t do that; you know she’d literally banish me from our dorm.”

“Yoko, I am so far from kidding.”

After a beat of silence, the vampire gathered her books as quickly as she could, muttering a “I’m going to shove a stick of wolfsbane up your ass.”

Smiling in response at what you hoped was a joke, offering a dramatic sigh and “I wish it hadn’t come to this, maybe we can be friends again someday,” earning a snort from the now moody immortal.

You were just glad that Enid had taken pity on you and sat next to she-who-shall-not-be-named in the classes where the rest of the students were too scared to even glance n her direction, for the first week you had just decided not to turn up to lessons. But alas, you were smart, but not smart enough to keep your grades up with no classes, no matter how badly you wanted to never have to lay eyes on the girl who still held your heart in her hands.

Yet, despite the distance between you and the girl who tore your heart from your chest and thew it to the ground as if it was nothing more than an inconvenience to her oh so important mystery, you missed having her cool thigh against your own, missing the way the smell of ink, and dusty parchment encompassed you.

Day by day your hopes that she would pull her head out of her ass dwindled.

Yoko was astounded by how oblivious you were to Wednesday’s dark eyes were burning a hole in the back of your head, as if she could command your eyes to be on her.

Unsurprisingly, you were both oblivious to the way Yoko was absolutely shitting herself convinced that if she breathed too loudly, or her if her pen was too loud against her paper, the Addams’ eyes would turn to her, killing her on the spot like the most powerful Gorgons used to be able to do, until they became no more than domesticated pet owners.

That class you had taken no notes, too busy trying not to see fi Wednesday was looking at your, Wednesday not having taken any being too busy to do everything to get you to notice her longing filled gaze.

Of course, Wednesday was also drawing up more plans on how to torture the vampire as she sat beside her, thrumming with barely contained rage and debilitating melancholy.

It was only when your separation from Wednesday was nearing the one-month mark that she felt she was going to go insane if she didn’t talk to you.

She couldn’t function without you by her side.

When she played the cello, the notes sounded dull and lifeless, a shadow of the swooping and haunting tones she used to be able to pull from the instrument when you had sat on the balcony with her, awe glimmering in your eyes, enjoying the comfortable silence that engulfed you once she had finished.

Her writing had also taken a blow. She may have loved silence, but now she couldn’t handle it unless it was disrupted by your breathing, knowing you were merely feet away from her. One night, she had become so frustrated with the way she couldn’t move Viper’s story forward, she had taken to relentlessly hammering at the keys of her typewriter, no longer gracing them with her usual precise and delicate touch.

Enid was lucky she still had her life after her threats of throwing the piece of equipment out of the window if there was even another tap on the keys, let alone another god forsaken ‘schwing’ as the werewolf referred to it.

She hadn’t been able to sleep, her nightmares usually filled with the screams of the boys she’d allowed her piranhas to feast on, or the countless other poor souls who crossed her path, had been replaced with soft dreams of your voice, your hands combing through her hair, whispering sweet nothings whilst she was in your embrace.

She woke up missing the feeling of drowning in everything that was you.

She had spent the day watching you from afar in the quad, poking at your food, you would smile brightly at your friends who never noticed the dim look in your eyes.

Her night consisted of sleeplessness – the only happiness Wednesday pulled from the agony she found in sleep was the dark circles that had grown under her eyes, she thought she looked more and more like a walking corpse each day. It was quite the ego boost.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that made her take the walk across campus to be standing in front of your dorm.

She had been able to walk to the dorm.

Now all she had to do, was actually get into said dorm.

The Addams would never have thought she would be scared of a door. The psychic knew you were awake, like her you were a night owl and a morning person all rolled into one. That and the soft glow that was seeping from the bottom of the door.

Gritting her teeth, she opened the door.

Now was no time for manners.

At the sudden intrusion, you sat up in your bed, phone clattering to the floor, your eyes were wide and alert, claws having ripped through the blanket that was previously covering your body.

“You can’t fuck do that, Wednesday,” you panted out. “I thought I was going to be murdered, Jesus.” The brief shot of adrenaline that ran through your body at the surprise visit stopping you from immediately telling the shorter girl where she could shove her probably half-baked apology.

‘I swear to everything good and holy under the moon, if she’s here to ask for my help on the murders, there’s going to be another body added to the list’ is what ran through your head as you stared at Wednesday.

Completely ignoring your comment, Wednesday made strong and purposeful strides – her façade of confidence completely different to the anxiety bubbling in her stomach as if a thousand scorpions had made their nest there – towards your bed, looking down at you as she left a respectable distance despite how desperately she wanted to launch her body onto yours, wind her arms around your waist as tight as she could and never let go.

You could slash your claws across every part of her skin, reduce her to nothing but bleeding ribbons of flesh, and she would only hold tighter.

“I am going to talk, I would greatly appreciate if you would listen until I have finished,” neither of you mentioned the slight waver in her voice.

“Okay,” was the only word you could think to say, your brain filled with how beautiful she looked shrouded n the shadows of your bedroom. Stupid fucking brain.

“I am sorry for I have been behaving, before the … event a month ago, and after. It was in no way acceptable for me to place my own obsessions above our relationship as often as I did, it was cruel and unfair,” her eyes bore into yours, searching for any desire you may have for her to leave her.

“Wednesday, this isn’t going to fixed with a quick and easy apology, I appreciate it, but this wasn’t just a one time thing, it was so many I lost count, there was more than just the ignoring me. You lied about where you were when you put your life in danger, you had neglected every aspect of our relationship until you thought it was an acceptable time for you to remember me, and even then, it was more than likely just so you had a werewolf on your side as protection in the wood,” you looked away from her eyes briefly, before locking with them again. “God, that stupid ass fucking normie, Galpin, probably saw you more in the last week of our relationship than I did in the last month of it. Can you understand how shitty that made me feel, can you grasp that at all?” your chest was heaving from the lack of oxygen you’d had as you forced every piece of pain you had felt over the past month into your words.

You had only realised you were crying when the salty liquid hit your lips, a headache already forming from the amount of tears you’d spilled over the ethereal girl in front of you.

“Y/n, I-“ she felt tears welling in her eyes, fighting against the urge to push them back down to the dark corners of her mind,. “I love you more than what I know what to do with. My love for you burns brighter than any star in the sky, my heart beats for you and you only”

Wednesday felt a singular tear roll down her cheek, you both knew that to the usually emotionless girl it was an astounding portrayal of trust and vulnerability. You were so entranced by the path the tear carved out in her skin, falling from her eyes, and trailing down her cheeks. So entranced that you realised you hadn’t said anything in reply, as you were opening your mouth, Wednesday spoke again, with in a much softer tone than you had ever heard from the girl.

Wednesday had already walked further into the mess that were her emotions, she decided to let it all go, to let it all burst from her body in such a disgraceful cloud of colour. “I know what I am, I have never denied the parts of myself that make it hard for others to stay with me. They have never bothered me until I finally saw how it was hurting you, tearing you apart, and I noticed too late. I had tried to tell myself it was the best choice for us, we were not meant to be, your love for me misplaced and vice versa. But my love for you could never be misplaced. It has always been you, Y/n, it will always only be you.”

“Wedne-“

“If you no longer see our relationship as a possibility, I will understand. I will love you from afar like the moon loves the sun, I will be by your side even if you cannot see me, my adoration unwavering. But.. please. Y/n, please take me back. I will be better for you, i only ask that you be patient and help me become a better person for you. I need you.”

You stared up at Wednesday, you mouth open as you gaped at not only the words that are filled with the emotion but the way the features on her face had morphed from their impassive stare to utter heartbreak, a desperation to have you be hers again. She could no longer stand the bitter taste that filled her mouth, the sour smells the invaded her nose, that were nothing like the way you taste, the way you smelt. Like a forest ablaze in the most glorious spectacle of destruction.

No words that you could conjure up would be bale to beat the novelists, so instead you grabbed her hands, pulling her down onto your bed. Your lips found her own as you kissed her as deeply as you could, attempting to pour every ounce of love and passion you held for Wednesday Addams. You skin tingled with a thrumming electricity when her hands held onto your waist, trying to pull you closer as if she wanted your bodies to meld into one.

You knew dating Wednesday Addams would come with its challenges, Wednesday was Wednesday. she was difficult, stubborn and obsessive. But she was also kind, and loving.

You both fell asleep entwined in the other arms; you had spent the weeks after working on your relationship. Wednesday had learned how to have, you know, emotions and not combust, you had both learned how to communicate better. The only serious argument that had caused Wednesday to give you the silent treatment is when you had told her she would “absolutely adore” the “masterpiece” you would grace her with if she just put on your headphones. ‘Dance Monkey.’ You had made her listen to Dance Monkey, you best believe it’s still used against you in your relationship

The natural sadist had even finally promised to stop saying she had poisoned Yoko’s blood bags. Although, that didn’t stop her from holding a wooden stake to the vampires back when she had tried to sit beside her in class before you had arrived. And if anyone ever said the vampire would find garlic cloves left outside her dorm every now and then, there would be no way anyone could conjure up any evidence to say it was Wednesday. Her hands were clean.

Thing still can’t get the smell of garlic from his skin.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams netflix #its so bad but we move #yoko tanaka #enid sinclair

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thenightling · 2 months

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Wednesday is NOT a rip-off of Harry Potter

This is something that I thought should be obvious. In fact I could swear I wrote a post like this over a year ago but apparently (if I had made such a post) it is lost now. So here's the new one. Lately I've seen a fresh spike in people insisting that the Netflix series Wednesday is a "rip off" of Harry Potter. "It the aesthetic is Harry Potter!" Really? How? Do you think Harry Potter was the first and only school to be a haunted castle? I guess you don't remember Gravedale High (animated series from 1990). Much like the modern Monster High, Gavedale high was a show about a school of monsters.

Before Gravedale High there was the animated TV movie Scooby Doo and the Ghoul School (1988) where Shaggy got a job as a PE teacher at a boarding school for the daughters of the classic movie monsters. This, very likely, inspired Monster High.

And before that there was the book series The Worst Witch and the first TV movie inspired by the books, which featured a song number from Tim Curry. This was about a little girl attending Witch School.

If we go back even further the novel Dracula by Bram Stoker has Van Helsing suggest that Dracula attended Scholomance (translates to "School of Magic") which has its roots in Eastern European folklore and helped inspire Yennefer's backstory in The Witcher. All of these pre-date Harry Potter. "But the students are divided into groups just like in Harry Potter." Yeah. So? "Houses" are a tradition in boarding schools in the UK and parts of the US. Also Nevermore Academy in Wednesday is mostly populated by supernatural entities that divide up in cliques based on what species the student is. You're going to tell me your school didn't have cliques? Jocks, nerds, Goths, rich kids, bad boys, etc. I'm not sure how a boarding school setting can even be done without dividing up into factions. You'd have to make a conscious effort to avoid it and it would come off as very awkward and unnatural. Harry Potter isn't as original as you seem to think it is. "But the uniforms have stripes." Okay, I'll let you have that one but the stripes and color patterns are different. The plotline of season 1 of Wednesday is closer to the live action Monster High musical movie (but with a more serious tone) than anything else. In the first Monster High live action movie the main villain turns out to be a teacher who is also a Hyde monster. In Wednesday the main villain is a teacher who is manipulating a Hyde Monster.

And both deal with classic monsters in a boarding school setting and allegories of prejudice.

And then you get the annoying argument from fake Addams Family fans of "But Wednesday didn't have any powers in the original." Oh, on the contrary. The new show says she inherited psychic abilities from Morticia. Morticia telling fortunes, sensing things, and even using a crystal ball comes up in the 1960s Addams Family TV series. Grandmama uses a crystal ball in the 90s Addams Family animated series. The 1970s Addams Family Halloween special has it that the spirit of Halloween / Anthropomorphic personification of Halloween "Uncle Shy" (implied to be the Great Pumpkin or you can retroactively say he was Jack Skellington or Sam from Trick 'r Treat). When your Uncle is literally the spirit of Halloween your family can have whatever you want in it. Wednesday even uses telepathy at one point in the 2019 Addams family animated movie franchise. And there's a conga line of Addams Family member ghosts in The Addams Family Broadway musical. They have a pet sentient hand. And no. It's not just that "Their Goth game is that good." Finally, I don't think there's a student at Nevermore Academy who is younger than sixteen. Hogwarts starts at age eleven. Twenty-one-year-old Jenna Ortega (Wednesday) doesn't look much like eleven-year-old to seventeen-year-old Daniel Radcliffe to me.

Stop giving J. K. Rowling so much credit.

#Wednesday #Wednesday Addams

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dibschair · 2 years

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𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚: Day 5

ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕥: Breeding w/ Tommy

CW: Fem! Reader, Unprotected sex, Rough sex, swearing, talk about babies.

MINORS DNI

It was no surprise that you found yourself in this position, knees pressed up twoards your shoulders clinging to the scratchy sheets as Thomas fucked his second load of the night into you.

The head of his cock pressed flush with your womb, making you shake in anticipation.

For days now, Luda had been talking wistfully about what her future grand babies would be like.

They'd have Tommy's eyes and your hair, or they'd have your smile and Tommy's freckels. The boys would be tall and strong, but sweet and loyal like their daddy. The girls would be pretty and spoiled by their grandmama.

She'd even sit with you and think up names for a baby that wasn't even on the way yet...

Both you and Thomas knew what she was doing.

Not that either of you were really complaining.

So when Tommy had approached you tonight, a twinkle in his eye and cock already hard you knew what was in store for you.

He reached out carefully pushing the hem of your night gown up until you got the hint to take it off. He groans at the sight of you naked before him, his big hands groping at your tits roughly.

The two of you started slow and passionate. Tommy dropped to his knees at your bedside, you take the hint and spread your legs for him. He hums in appreciation eyes transfixed of you laid bare to him.

His mask is ripped off in an instant, scared mouth setting to work against your clit.

Your first orgasm of the night is ripping through your body only moments later, hands gripping at the mess of dark hair between your legs.

Things escalated quickly from there, and before you knew it Tommy was slipping his massive dick into your waiting cunt. Tommy always tried his absolute best to be gentle with you, but something was different tonight.

The pace Tommy set was brutal and demanding. His big hips snapping into you as he fucked you with purpose.

"Tommy!" You wail hands scratching down his back. Your shrill voice surely alerting the rest of the Hewitt household to your current activities.

You can't bring yourself to care as Tommy's cock repeatedly taps against your womb.

Thomas shifts, hooking your leg in his arm to press you down flatter into the old bed. At this angle you catch sight of his pretty eyes. He looks so determined, almost feral at the idea of putting a baby in you.

Your orgasm tears through your body a moment later, making you a babbling mess below him.

"Shit Tommy! Please! Please, make me a mommy!"

Something snapped in Thomas then. He slams your other knee up twoards your shoulders, his cock deep inside you as he comes. His cum quickly overflowing your abused cunt and dripping down below your bodies.

"Tommy! Tommy thank you, I wanna-!"

You can't seem to find the words to finish that thought. Especially when Tommy pulls his still hard cock from your womb and slams back in.

The breath is knocked out of you then, your hands fall onto the bed besides you holding onto anything to keep you grounded while Tommy sets back to work making sure that you're breed by the morning.

A/N: Bro I literally have this kink why was this chapter so hard to write??? It's not great, but it's done. I hope you enjoyed nonetheless.

#slasher imagine #slasher x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #kinktober 2022

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simsstuph · 11 months

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The hallway was clearing out as the final bell came closer.

Owen: Well much like the first time we met, this is turning into a really swell encounter. We've gotta stop meeting like this, I can't contain the dopamine rush ya give me.

Delilah rolled her eyes: Much agreed, it was lovely to see you again, not sure I'd have recognized you without this ripped look thing you've got going for you.

Owen smirked: Same, Grandmama.

Delilah tried not to laugh but couldn't help but let out a little chuckle: Riiiiight. Well. Good day, Owen was it?

Delilah shrugged a shoulder up as if she was questioning his name as she walked past him. Owen smoothly spun around watching her disappear down the hall, shaking his head slightly.

#becomingdelilah #ts4 #thesims4 #sims4 #thesims #sims4story #ts4story

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baronvonkrieger · 2 years

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How Hispanic are the Addams Family?

Are The Addams Family Hispanic? If you go on Twitter, and do a search for the Addams family, there are a lot of people who seem obsessed with the Addams Family being Hispanic. One person tweeted "I did not realize there were people angry about Netflix’s casting for Wednesday because I genuinely thought that the Addams Family was a Latine family ………… are they supposed to be …… something else?" First of all, as an Hispanic, most us don't like being called "Latine" which is too close to "latrine", and many of us find “Latinx” obnoxious. It is LATINO!. Tim Burton must be convinced that the whole family is Latino, and so, he has cast Latinos as all the members of the Addams family.

I mean with a last name like Addams, how could they be anything but Hispanic? "Addams" may be the most common Hispanic surname of all. Who can forget how Miguel Hidalgo Addams was responsible for ringing the bell that led to Mexico's Independence from Spain? Of course Cinco De Mayo is a celebration of when Benito Juárez Addams drove the French soldiers of Napoleon Third from Mexico. That is why whenever Gomez hears Morticia speak French, he is driven into a frenzy, because of the mad passion of any Latino when French is spoken. To be clear, the whole idea of the Addams family being Latino has to do with one of the characters being named Gomez. When Charles Addams created the father character in the 1940s, this character not only had no name, he had no ethnic identity. He started out as Charles Addams wanting to satirize the image of the American family. So, instead of a tall and handsome father figure, he wanted his father figure to be short and ugly. How ugly? Well the look of the character was based on a Republican politician named Tom Dewey.

Tom Dewey was a Republican, and Charles Addams was a Democrat, so I think it's a good bet that Charles Addams wasn't his biggest fan. In the strips, we never saw a lot of the Addams family celebrating Cinco de Mayo, and I don't think Charles Addams ever had his children characters whacking a Pinata; well in the 1992 Animated series, I can hear Fester (voiced by Rip Taylor) begging to be the Pinata in a children's party. They were simply an inverse of what families at the time would have done; be it the father reading with great delight how big a brat his son was in school, or Wednesday throwing a tantrum for making the honor roll at school. For two dozen years, the weird family was best know for subverting expectations of what the average family would be depicted doing.

Until the 1962, none of the family members had names, except I think Grandmama. Then Aboriginal released dolls based on the characters, and Morticia, Wednesday, and Irving got names. For some reason the boy doll was named Irving, which I would tend to think of more as a Jewish name, than Hispanic. Morticia was based on Addams looking at the phone directory listings for funeral directors, and Wednesday was named for the child of woe in a poem. It would take a couple of more years to give the father and son the names we now know them by. When it came to the TV series, Charles Addams wanted "Pubert" for the son, and "Repelli" for the father. Neither were acceptable, because the network was being racist against revolting names.

The name "Pudgely" for the son was almost used, but "Pugsley" was the final choice. Charles Addams gave "Gomez" as a second choice for the father, after the name of a family friend. When it came to the last name of this family, Charles Addams initially objected to giving them Addams as their family name. He was too modest a man, to want his name for the characters. However it was explained to him that this was shorthand for "The Eccentric Family of Characters Created by Charles Addams”. He would go along with the family being named "Addams", and later came to embrace it. With a name like "Gomez", the show's creators decided Gomez would have a Castilian background.

His being Hispanic never played that big a part in the 1964 series. In fact, in an episode where the Addams Family had their family lineage being researched, it appears they came close to being related to the famous Adams family that had produced two US Presidents. That did bother them, and as Groucho would explain, the second D made the difference. In actuality, Charles Addams was indeed related to that famous family. There was also the leg of "Cousin Farouk Addams" sticking out of the swordfish. That first name suggests that some of the clan came from the Middle east.

To my knowledge, none of the cast of the 1964 series were Hispanic, and even John Astin acted more like Groucho Marx, then Ricardo Montalban. This changed with the 1991 Addams Family film. The film makers wanted to play up Gomez as a hot blooded and passionate Latin lover, so Gomez was portrayed by Puerto Rican actor Raul Julia. Raul Julia had the same effect on many women as Rudolf Valentino nearly a century earlier. Outside of Raul Julia, I can't think of a single family member of that version of the Addams family that is Hispanic, or particularly acts like an Hispanic. Christopher Lloyd plays Gomez's brother Fester, for Pete's sake. When they perform the Mamushka, "the dance of brotherly love," Gomez says it was taught by the Cossacks in the Addams Family. To my knowledge, there never were Cossacks in the Western Hemisphere, or in Spain.

I'm the son of an immigrant from San Salvador, and I'm a proud Hispanic, but do I need the Addams family to be Latino so I can identify with them? Of course not. I love the Addams Family because they are not afraid to march to their own drum beat. I love the family because they enjoy living in a creepy old house, and display all sorts of wonderfully eccentric treasures in this home. I love them because they are a close family. I wish i could love the new Wednesday series, but you won't see much of what I love in the new series, if the trailers are any indication of what we'll be getting. I believe the new series will be successful, but for all those who can't wait to see it on Netflix, I'm actually one of those who are looking for the third installment of the animated feature series instead. For those who will enjoy the new Wednesday series, I'm glad that the legacy of Charles Addams is still entertaining people.

#the addams family #Charles Addams #gomez addams #Wednesday Addams #Raul Julia #John Astin #Tim Burton

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magnetothemagnificent · 1 year

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So, my Grandmama's old shirt, my favourite shirt, finally became unwearable (after a while of the fabric slowly fraying) a few weeks ago on Shabbat. It was very distressing for me, because it's been my Shabbat shirt for years, but I figured Grandmama, who was an artist, would want me to put her shirt to use.

First steps first, I salvaged all the beautiful blue buttons. You can't tell from the photo, but they're actually very shiny!

Next, seam ripping! I'm going to lift the pattern from this shirt so I can make an infinate number of new creations from it! (yes, that is a cutticle pusher. It makes a better seam ripper.)

Deconstructed shirt

Thank you Christmas wrapping paper on clearance for making such good pattern paper!

Traced

All done!!

And now the fabric will go to the cabbage pile :)

Thank you Grandmama for helping me with my art, even beyond the grave <3

[id in alt text]

#sewing #pattern tracing #tutorial I guess haha

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numnumki · 8 months

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I have been re-reading tpof lately and I reached the part in which Jack is thinking about Teague and how a pirate's life is a short life (average 2-3 years) and I have been wondering. How would Jack react if Teague died sometime in his five-years exile? What if he was killed by Christophe or Borya just like Don Rafael, or by old age (I believe it was possible at that time to die at your late 50s?) or because of stress?

(Added TL;DR in the end hope this makes sense)

well,,,, young Jack seemed very concerned about making amends,or at least trying to , with his father and tPoF Jack redirected a shot that was meant for Teague away from him to protect him whether as his captain/ keeper of the code or a parent ....

I mean,,,, Jack is good and has his own sense of justice and logic ,, so he "knows " a pirate's life is a short one and he understands that they face the noose/ gun point more than any normal person could wish for so if Teague died within the five year period ; it just makes sense... but if he did die, what matters is how; like;;;; There's this accepting quality about Jack in general, where he believes from within his soul all things will perish and life will go on so he kind of like isn't severely attached to things/people and is able to let go when the time comes , so I think he'll mourn for Teague privately if he died of age+ stress and maybe lament lost chances of setting things right or at least coming to terms with what happened earlier but he won't think of it longer than necessary ( will store it away til he feels like visiting that place in his mind again) that's the easiest situation to deal with.

One another hand if Teague was murdered then ofc he'll take blame for it himself cuz it was his fault in the first place for trusting Christophe and freeing the rouges + that'll just add to the pile of other lives damaged because of him then. Does that mean he'll go back to the cove and let the other lords decide his fate? Would he seek Christophe/ rouges to avenge his father and clear his name? scratch that I don't think so that's too heroic. Would he just pretend this didn't happen and carry on with his fake honest life as a merchant sailor? - that depends on Jack's motives at the time but for sure now every pirate will know of Jack+ his relationship with Teague+ what he's done to deserve the exile +++ cement his fate of being run through if he's ever encountered another pirate ever .. just generally not good+ no good reaction+ stuck with constant fear .

---And then there's also grandmama still alive at the time and ik he thinks of Teague as this unbound entity that could defy the command of death itself just with how bitter it's soul is - so maybe what's more likely to Jack is Teague surviving all the odds and not dying in five years so Jack still being on the run from him🐙

TL;DR ,Jack's POV:

1- Teague dying from old age or stress --> oh well, rip king 👍

2- Teague dying from Rogues ---> oh no I killed him, every pirate on earth will have my head for this + it's my fault

3- Teague not dying during the time ---> he'll kill me if he finds I'm still alive + must hide in a hole in the center of the earth

#captain jack sparrow #pirates of the carribean #potc #the price of freedom #edward teague

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loetise · 1 month

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going with my grandmama references here and suggesting hannah murray from her skins era. she has the waifish, bug-eyed, slightly "head empty" look that i always ( affectionately ) associate with allie. ALKSJFLKSDAJFSDFG. i was also gonna try to suggest someone more current, but my brain literally started doing the dial-up noise. rip.

who/what gives you the allie vibes!!!!, accepting! ˎˊ˗

HJBGVFCGTGGHGVJHBK kinda real actually, bc cassie ainsworth is actually in the allie variants post so for sure the vibes are there

also this collage was so vibey

#rosewiltd #𖥸 ₊ * “ imagery ” … a nameless girl in freshest summer greens‚ a saint‚ an angel.

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mask131 · 2 years

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The evolution of Grandma Addams: Part 4

The Addams Family movies simplified greatly the “Grandma” character by reuniting her as one character... But in the process this actually complicated the whole Grandma situation, retroactively making continuity problems that fans and other adaptations play with even to this day... Well, you’ll see for yourself.

In the first “Addams Family” movie, Grandmama (played by Judith Malina) is depicted with an appearance similar to the one of Chas Addams drawing, while having a personality mixing the sitcom and the original cartoons. She is a short and stout lady in black dresses wrapped in black or faded-red shawls, with big frizzy untamed grey hair (the movie notably adds a lot of necklaces and rings, as well as mittens, giving her a sort of “creepy elderly bohemian” vibe). She is still a cook for the family - in fact we see most of the dishes she actually makes and... they range from the disgust to the purely grotesque (some of her dishes even still move in the plate). When the Addams family gets kicked out of their home, she also takes the charge of “bringing dinner” by hunting cats and dogs around town ; and from the various cookbooks she owns (some of which are actually anatomy manuals for doctors or books ABOUT BABIES), it seems she isn’t above a bit of cannibalism. The vast basement kitchen of the house becomes her domain (where she is helped by Lurch).

The movie also plays a lot her emotional, funny side from the sitcom by having her be actually quite mischievious. We see her in some scenes “playing” with the children (one deleted scene notably had her try to use the kid’s dart-blower at the charity auction), and she is shown to love jokes (she notably pulls one on Margaret during the séance using Thing to make Margaret believes she ripped off her hand). She is a happy, joyful, a bit childish old lady (if you can pass beyond her ragged appearance, dark clothes and habit of cooking babies)

However the movie introduces one BIG change. In the movie duology, instead of being Gomez’s mother like in previous incarnations, she becomes Morticia’s mother and Gomez’s mother-in-law. Gomez own mother (as well as Fester’s), “Mother Addams” is actually dead before the events of the movie (and before the birth of the children), killed by an angry mob. The change to Morticia’s mother notably brings me to something that the sitcom had already gotten rid off: Grandma’s dark complexion. She was more brown-skinned in the original cartoons, and while she was played by a white woman in the sitcom, here she becomes a very pale hag - which does make sense if she is the mother of the corpse-pale Morticia.

Another thing I did not mention but that was started by the sitcom: Grandma’s slowly moving in the family. In Chas Addams cartoons she is an occasional visitor: she comes from time to time, she joins the family during big parties, but she clearly does not live with them (in fact one of her early drawings show her arriving with Fester at the house, another outsider). In the sitcom she becomes a regular of the family, with her own room in the house and who appears in most of the episodes, implying she lives there on a regular basis - but she still isn’t in all episodes, and is sometimes said to be out for various trips and holidays (other times she just isn’t there with no real explanation). In the movies, Grandmama becomes an integral and permanent part of the household, never seen leaving their side.

One last small fact: If you look closely at her neck, you can see she wears a brooch or a sort of cameo jewel, like old ladies used to - but hers is shaped like a spider.

For the sequel, “The Addams Family Values”, Grandmama is played by another actress, Carol Kane, and she looks even worse than before. She is skinnier and smaller, with a more frail voice - on top of her unearthly paleness she now also sports deep dark circles around her sunken eyes, and she doesn’t have many teeth left... This Grandmama looks much more worn-out and much sicker than the previous, playful, bombastic Grandmama. But this can be explained by the fact that Carol Kane was actually MUCH younger than Judith Malina: she was in her early forties! A lot of makeup and prosthetics had to be used to make her look older - which also made her more decrepit.

As you can see on the picture above, another fashion detail the movie duology added to Grandmama: hats. This version of Grandmama often wears hats for going out (either for the charity auction, or for visiting Debbie). She is also seen wearing ribbons in her hair in the first movie during the séance (not that they make her hair less chaotic). In the second movie she does wear two big braids for some scenes - but her hair is still a mess and the braids do little to help.

An aspect of Grandmama that is much more highlighted in the movies (especially in the sequel) is her “witchy” nature. In the first movie she is the one leading the séance to contact Fester, making her the “medium” of the family, and in the sequel she acts the family’s “doctor”, trying to cure Pubert from his “disease” with a bizarre exorcism-like ritual, and finding his unusual disease in her old medical grimoires. She is also seen putting a curse on Debbie using a skull - a curse that actually does work, given Debbie’s “burst and burn” end.

As one would say, this version of Grandmama does look like she is up to the name “Frump”, but due to the success and popularity of the Addams movie creating an alternate “canon”, they actually started the whole “Is Grandmama Gomez or Morticia’s mother?” debate among the Addams audience and fandom. To the point some people claim Grandmama was originally intended by Chas Addams to be Morticia’s mother and the movie went back to the “original”, while the sitcom diverged by making her Gomez’s mother. This is false: Charles Addams always intended Grandma Frump/Grandmama to be the mother of Gomez - it is the duology that diverged from the established canon by making her Morticia’s mother, something that had never been done before.

#the addams family #addams family #grandmama #grandma addams #grandma frump #movies #1991 #1993 #carol kane #judith malina #charles addams

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dragons-bones · 2 years

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FFXIV Write Entry #4: With Ice Cold Hands

Prompt: defile (free write!) || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: My goal this FFXIV Write is that for free write Sundays, I’m going to specifically write scenes from Endwalker as they occurred in Squadverse, which is unusual because I normally prefer to write the bits between canon. So naturally, I started here.

I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Endwalker. Body horror, dysphoria, Fandaniel, Zenos. Mentioned alcohol and drug use, blood, violence, gore, panic attacks, close calls with vomiting.

----

Rereha isn’t a stranger to not knowing where she wis when she wakes up, and trying to blink herself awake now, she certainly doesn’t recognize the table before her. No design she’s ever seen, and ugly as shite to boot, which is impressive to someone who grew up in Ul’dah and has seen all the “fashionable” trends come and go. But that isn’t what seemed different.

The headache isn’t the throbbing behind her eyes that was indicative of her having drunk to excess the night before, nor was there the sour taste in her mouth that accompanied a hangover, either. No particular tingle or burn in her sinuses or the back of her throat, either, that would suggest she’d been very stupid indeed and backslid into bad habits from her days as a bored heiress. Her limbs, however, feel oddly heavy, like they were too long, and even sitting down, her sense of balance feels off.

Her vision isn’t quite right. Is there something on her head? Gods, where even is she, the last thing she remembers is…

Is…

…Oh no.

A voice, familiar in a way that sent ice down her spine:

“The experiment was a success, but I fear our time is short.”

Rereha blacks out again, but she isn’t sure for how long. In the next blink of consciousness, there is a full dinner service in front of her, but any appetite she might have vanishes when she raises her head further and sees fucking Zenos sitting on the opposite end of a banquet table from herself, eating baked salmon as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Fandaniel’s grating voice draws her attention, and she whips her head to the side to stare at the Ascian, only half-aware of what he is saying until: “Take a moment, too, to familiarize yourself with that borrowed flesh.”

Ice runs through her whole body, except it isn’t her body, is it, as she looks down, at fingers too long attached to palms too wide attached to wrists too thick attached to arms too no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no—

Fandaniel is monologuing, fucking monologuing, what is it with Ascians and Garleans and monologuing, and Rereha is only idly aware of what the bastard is going on about. If she gets out of this—when she gets out of this—she will be able to recall everything verbatim; it’s a handy trick her grandmama taught her, useful for any Ul’dahn socialite to acquire gossip and blackmail, and it’s served her well as both bard and intelligencer for the Scions. Who expects the hedonist deep in her cups to be paying attention, after all? Even with panic choking her, she knows with a certainty deep in her bones she won’t lose a single drop of information the Ascian is feeding her.

Aulus, though. Son of a fucking bitch. Alakhai and Thancred and Tataru had been worried they couldn’t confirm whether any of that bastard’s research had made it out of Ala Mhigo. Here’s the answer, too little, too late.

She wants to be pithy, to be snide, but all that escapes her mouth is, “Give me back my body!” in a voice that isn’t hers. Not high enough, not smooth enough, not female enough, distorted further by the helmet’s vocoder, the words rumbling in someone else’s throat oh gods oh gods oh gods whose skin did they put her in, did they rip out some poor tempered boy’s soul and shove hers in, or was this a shell—

Zenos watches without speaking, with his cold, dead eyes. Somehow, that’s worse than Fandaniel’s manic gloating.

The roar that echoes the room sends a different kind of shiver down her spine, and there’s the skinstealer going off on another tangent and—oh.

Oh.

No one deserves that.

Not even Varis zos Galvus.

And then his accursed son finally deigns to speak.

Revulsion mixes with the horror that already lurks on the back of her—this body’s—tongue, and she swallows back bile. Vomiting in a helmet would just make an already shitty day even worse. Gods, but she loathes what this monster in a man’s skin assumes about her and her sisters, that they are exactly like him, deriving pleasure and meaning from bloodshed and violence just because they managed to give him a fucking challenge.

Rereha remembers her arm dangling by tendon and a strip of muscle, her heart pumping her life’s blood onto the sands of Rhalgr’s Reach as she screamed and screamed and screamed. Rereha remembers Alisaie’s hands on her tying a tourniquet and shoving what little conjury she knew into her traumatized body. Rereha remembers intimately finding out what it feels like to have her brachial artery forcibly knit itself together bit by bit by bit, until the blessed relief of oblivion finally claimed her.

Her arm twinges with the memory and bile rises anew in her throat because that is not her arm.

It’s not until he gets up and begins strolling away, still spewing his bullshite even as Fandaniel stands prim and proper in his tailed suit with a bottle of wine ready to serve (the vintage is one whose even she would wheeze at, where she not trying not to have a hysterical fit of terror), that she sees the chair.

(Helmets are fucking stupid, especially Garlean ones with their absolute shite peripheral vision.)

That is her body, slumped over like she’s merely fallen asleep on an airship ride. Even her hat is still in place.

Adrenaline is the only reason she doesn’t fall flat on her—his—this face as she attempts to race towards Zenos, her center of gravity too far off the fucking ground and fuck being tall this is fucking awful and for the first time tonight Zenos is emoting, that disgusting feral smile on his face GET AWAY FROM M—

Too late. Zenos’s body drops like a marionette with its strings cuts, and he—she—he raises her head and she just barely keeps from retching because that look. That expression.

That doesn’t belong on her face.

If she lives through this, she knows that will haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

And then he’s fucking gone, of course, he’s in a godsdamn body, HER godsdamn body, which is capable of using aether which means he can teleport which means oh god oh god oh god he can teleport he can teleport her friends what about her friends—

“Oh dear!” Fandaniel’s gleeful malice draws her attention. “Whatever would happen if my lord were to greet your friends as you? I shudder to imagine what carnage he would wreak!”

She can’t decide if she wants to scream or to punch that faux innocence off Fandaniel’s stupid stolen punchable face maybe she can do both shut up you rat shut up shut up shut up not her friends not her sisters not her family no no no no no—

Rereha doesn’t have time to panic or punch his stupid stolen punchable face only because Fandaniel yanks her across space-time or however the fuck it is Ascians teleport and makes her the star of his newest little game.

It is hell.

Her legs are too damn long and so are her arms and her center of gravity is utterly fucked because while she is in her proper body, she has the arms and shoulders of a god from all her archery work, she’s still bottom heavy. Her ass is amazing, thank you. And this poor damn dead victim she’s been summarily stuffed into like cream filling into an éclair has no fucking ass and no fucking hips and his shoulders and chest are fucking huge and all of his armor is on his head and chest and what the fuck. What the actual fuck.

And of course, because the body is Garlean infantry, that means sword and board. The soldier before her might be tempered, but he hasn’t last any of his skill, and she has none; this is Heron’s realm. She stumbles over her feet, is barely able to bring her dinky little round shield up in time to prevent her-his-this head from being knocked off her-his-this shoulders.

She can’t subdue him. There are no waiting squads of Contingent soldiers ready to swoop in with restraints and bring him back to camp to reverse his tempering. Fandaniel is right there, providing color commentary because he is a raging dick, and there’s zero doubt in her mind he wouldn’t do something to get the soldier back on his feet. The killing blow she lands is lucky, and the blood that steams out into the frigid air is red, red, red.

Rereha isn’t a stranger to killing; she’s Twin Adders, for gods’ sake, and while she likes to think she’s better than her Gridania-born compatriots in trying to give Keepers and Duskwights the benefit of the doubt, she has still had to put down poachers or bandits who threatened innocent lives, or her own. She’s had to kill tempered before. She’s had to kill before period, and she doesn’t like it, not a bit, no matter what Zenos thinks is true in his deluded, blood-addled mind, but that’s the world she lives in, though she’s trying to make it a better place so that it isn’t such a world.

But she hasn’t had to kill in a long while now.

She’s at least pathetically grateful that the sight of a man run through and bleeding out still makes her want to be sick. Her soul might not be in the right place at the moment, but she isn’t what Zenos claims she is.

She isn’t his fucking mirror.

“Not bad at all, given your diminished capacity!” Fandaniel laughs and claps from his perch. The urge to throw her sword at him is so high right now. “Nevertheless, ‘twould perhaps be prudent to keep to the shadows, scurrying about like a rodent!”

He vanishes into void again, thinking he’s being cute. Yeah, well, fuck you, Fanny-boy, one of her sisters is a rogue, like Alakhai’s never taught her to be a sneaky bitch, she just doesn’t usually want to be a sneaky bitch.

Rereha knows she’s under a time crunch, so she pushes down her panic and hysteria in favor of moving as quickly and as softly as she can, ducking behind broken walls or climbing over piles of debris, sometimes staying as still as possible while waiting for tempered soldiers to turn a corner. She scavenges medical kits from the dead, tending to her wounds as she walks because fuck fuck fuck she can’t even draw on ambient aether to speed up her healing, a trick anyone who signs up with the Adventurers’ Guild is taught.

She stumbles across a crossroad full of magitek, but of course it’s the most direct route she needs; there’s no telling how long it’ll take her to find a less dangerous path going around. But there’s a reaper close enough with its weapons intact, even though the leg is damaged; it can’t walk but it sure as fuck can shoot. All right, there’s her way through.

The pilot is nearby and by some miracle, both still alive and untempered. She shares some of her medical kits with him as he explains what happened, quickly helps him set his hand so the bones don’t heal wrong and makes mental note of all the surrounding landmarks as he presses the reaper’s keycard into her palm. The least she can do is send him help once she’s back at Broken Glass.

Of course she can’t find an undamaged, somewhat full ceruleum fuel tank close by, though. Of fucking course. Her fucking luck, she wants a word with the manager. She wastes precious time tracking one down, and then hauling it back, but for a moment she is grateful the body she’s in has the upper body strength to carry the fuel tank.

Fuck but she misses her tits, though. She really, really wants her tits back.

It is…deeply satisfying using the reaper to tear through the waves of magitek guarding her path home. The explosions rock the Region Urbanissma, and at one point, out of the corner of her eye, she sees the pilot peering over a hole in the wall of his hideaway, cheering her on.

The magitek stop coming, eventually, and she hops down and continues on, her success giving her a burst of energy as she sneaks behind more tempered soldiers.

But then there are civilians.

“You there, please! Help us!”

Pragmatism says she should continue on her way. Idealism dictates she doesn’t.

Rereha is a Warrior of Light. Even in the depths of her terror, she won’t forget that. Fandaniel and Zenos won’t take that from her.

Now, she sets aside Alakhai, and draws on Dancing Heron, her literal and figurative big sister. She has watched Heron dance with a sword for decades, listened to her lecture students about form and stance and footwork, and when she bends her mind to recalling those details, this unwanted body responds. Whoever he was, he was a fine warrior before Fanny-boy dug his claws into his soul, and his muscle memory is smooth.

She just hopes it doesn’t become her own, too.

She channels Heron further, rallying the civilians, taking the attention of the wildlife, as hungry and desperate as the people, letting the civvies attack from the back and flanks while she harasses from the front. They’re smart, capable, and holy hells, one of them found a working reaper.

But that’s when a platoon of tempered, led by a soldier so corrupted that Anima’s influence has warped them into a hulking brute identifiable only as a former person because they walk on two legs, arrive. There are many, and they keep coming. There are not enough medkits to go around.

The corrupted soldier begins channeling his aether, and Rereha recognizes a suicide tactic. So does one of the civvies, who calls out to them to duck back behind the magitek reaper—

—and that’s how they find out the tanks littering the area aren’t empty.

The explosion sends her and the civvies into the air. She hits the ground first, and likely the only thing that saves her life is this stupid, cumbersome, blinding, heavy armor. The civvies finish falling next, with sickening crunches.

There are wet, choked gasps around her. And then there is silence.

Does she lose consciousness? She doesn’t know. She’s aware of the blackness of her vision. Maybe she took a hit to the head that blinded her. Blinded this body.

There’s a heartbeat in her ears.

If there’s a heartbeat, there’s hope.

Rereha forces herself awake, forces the eyes of this body open. This body is broken. She has lost all sense of time.

She cannot give up.

She reaches forward, hooks the body’s fingers into the ground, pulls as she pushes off with the knee. A sob hitches in her-his-this chest, and tears pour down her stolen face. Reaches forward with the other arm, hooks that hand into the ground, pulls as she pushes off with the other knee. And again.

And again.

She chokes on her sobs, shattered ribs protesting and shattering further, and she crawls.

She crawls, because she cannot give up.

At some point, she’s able to force herself up on both legs, limping, sword dangling almost uselessly in the body’s hand. She stumbles through snow, somehow manages to avoid the hungry wildlife. She thinks she’s getting closer to Camp Broken Glass; she doesn’t see any patrols, but there aren’t any tempered, either.

She hears her name.

Rereha looks up.

She’s wandered off the path, but managed to still stumble mostly in the right direction. There are G’raha and Alisaie.

They are not looking at her, in this broken body.

They are looking at Zenos, in her body.

She runs. Every step is agony but she runs because she can’t do anything else, and there’s some creature rising into the air above her stolen head and it’s going to attack her friends and NO.

NO.

The creature’s sickle is knocked aside by the sword she’s just thrown, and heads turn in her direction as she keeps stumbling forward.

“Get away from them, you FUCKING BASTARD!” she howls, ramming into her body.

Oblivion.

Rereha isn’t a stranger to not knowing where she wis when she wakes up, but trying to blink herself awake now, she thinks she has a vague inkling of where that rug belongs. A design she’s only seen in this frozen shithole, and ugly as shite to boot, which is impressive to someone who grew up in Ul’dah and has seen all the “fashionable” trends come and go. But hey, she doesn’t feel too tall anymore.

“Thank goodness. She’s awake!”

Memory rushes back, and her eyes snap open.

The Scions and her sisters and Lucia and Maxima are clustering around her; they’re in the room she shares with her sisters in Camp Broken Glass. It was Alphinaud who spoke, and the naked relief on his face is a stark contrast to the cheerful madness of Fandaniel.

She looks down at her hands: the right size. She pats at her face, down her body, stops perhaps a moment too long on her tits because oh thank fuck she has her tits back before going further down to stomach and hips and legs, wonderful short legs.

Her hat is on her head. Her hat is on her head.

She looks around frantically, at her friends, at her family, looking for wounds or injury or anger, something rising hot and sour in her throat. “Is everyone all right?” she says in her voice. Her voice, high-pitched with a lilting Ul’dahn drawl hiding in the vowels.

It’s G’raha who answers, saying soft and soothing, “Perfectly fine, yes. I hope the same can be said of you.”

He’s a good boy, but oh. Oh, that was the wrong thing to say.

She stares at him for a long moment, and then that hot-sour feeling bubbles over, and she is sobbing. Deep, huge, heaving, retching sobs, and she hurriedly buries her face in her hands and keens.

It’s Thancred who gathers her up into a hug, humming an Ul’dahn lullaby. Rereha clutches his shoulders and bawls into his coat, breathing in the familiar scent of sword oil and his favorite shitty cologne as she fights to breathe. There’s someone pressing up behind her—Synnove, definitely, and the way she’s being smooshed forward into Thancred, Heron’s right behind Synnove. A snuffling sound, and Tyr’s shoving his head into the pile, face pressing into her stomach, and his big boof rattles her teeth in her head and every bone in her body and she never knew how much she loved that feeling.

There’s a big Scion group hug forming around her, she can sense the weight of so many bodies. Even Estinien, though he’s less cuddling and more placing his hand atop her head, the heat of him evident even through her hat.

Thancred keeps humming in her ear, her dumbass bar crawl buddy who wusses out over cactus liquor but can still beat her at darts even when he’s downed a bottle and a half of goblin motor oil masquerading as brandy, and doesn’t tell her she’ll be all right. It isn’t what she wants to hear right now. He’d know almost better ‘n anybody, wouldn’t he?

Eventually, she’ll get her shit together. She’s a Warrior of Light, and she has a job to do.

But right now, Rereha sobs.

It helps.

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#ffxivwrite2022 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #oc: rereha reha #fandaniel #zenos yae galvus #dt's writing

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abyssin · 10 months

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@hitokageisei asked: Scaramouche casually waiting for Childe to give him some tasty pierogi from granny. ๑(◕‿◕)๑

a direct conflict against his responsibilities as fatui and his insatiable wanderlust, there are few opportunities available for childe to return home. it’s a far trek from the palace to the quaint house in the rural outskirts of the city, one that requires hours of commute by car. but childe has always made space in his hectic schedule to visit his family before his next departure, always filled with new chatter of his adventures for his younger siblings to tune in to. here in this home, it is a space to be ajax: son, brother, toymaker, and devotee. here, the fatui and the tsaritsa cannot reach them, a brief respite before bearing his warrior’s teeth once more.

ajax made sure to use those teeth and rip apart childe and ajax from one other. it’s an equilibrium he’s honed and maintained for years, both facets knowing that this was best for his family. and for the first time in quite a while, he feels that stability dangerously tipped over as he eyes the balladeer with confusion. they sit across each other, already surrounded by teucer and the twins in a blink the moment scaramouche took his seat. they’re insistent on asking him about his creations, his ideas, how he’s helping CEO ajax with the craft.

albeit the occasional quirk of the other’s lips with both amusement and annoyance ( targeted blatantly for childe ), the atmosphere is... peaceful, despite the chatter of the zakharov household filling the house. grandmama’s delectable meals waft in the air with warmth as she passes the serving dish to ajax. go on, pass it on to your friend, child. he barely manages to hide the twitch of his eye before he locks eyes with scaramouche again.

ajax isn’t quite sure how they arrived in this strange scenario, but as long as the kids are entertained... and besides, he can surely make use of this setting to create his own amusement.

ajax musters a comically large smile, heaping dumplings on scaramouche’s empty plate. “here you go, my buddy-pal-friend scara.” he doesn’t miss the way the edge of scaramouche’s mouth twitches at the endearment. “and make sure you finish it all! grandma scolds kids who don't finish their meal with her mighty slipper.”

#hitokageisei #* IN CHARACTER.#IK WE'VE ONLY BRIEFLY TALKED ABT THIS #BUT I HOPE THIS IS TO UR LIKING UMBRA #breaking news zakharov family adopts a doll

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kawaiichibiart · 2 years

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Drawtectives Season 2 Finale Live Reaction

Holepunch dude....

....it's a helmet?

OMG

it's....it's....a cat?

Felix

His name is Felix and he belongs to Eugene

Oooohhh, a catamotronic

Eugene's remembering

Nooo, his cat died

......I

...I'm confused but...okay?

Ooohh, nice fit Felix

"It's me, grandmama, Felix!"

I'm still lost about this but like okay, I dig this

"Why did you make him tall?"

"Why did you make him kinda hot?"

I love you Rosé, never change

A cat with a job, my favorite kinda cat

OMFG

OF FUCKING COURSE THEY WOULD MAKE A CATS 2019 REFERENCE.

"Didn't you kill him?"

Oh, conductor dude was knocked out.

"I'm a cat with a job" OωO

Go to Eugene's office!!

Felix is so cuuute 🥺🥺🥺

Ooohh

Zoom in on those posters

Ripped....poster....sus

"Rosé read it to me."

Eugene's notes are super cute

......

Oh no

Oh noooo

Spirit VR shit

Binception

Harvey, a man of many talents. Juggler, high flyer and hot dog eater.

Young Terry!!!

"Look for cat"

The cat is a criminal

Junary 2nd

Smarch, Mabril, Bachtober

Tall for both weather purposes and viewing purposes

Hahahahahaha omg, the pinching

Aaaaaww Felix

Premier chat: among us

Everyone is a spirit???

Premier chat: death ™

"No brain, full of memmies"

Taken by surprise....

Hmmmm....

York reflex: pissing on people who surprise him

A DECOY?!

OMG THERE IS A DIFFERENCE

......so, they are in space?

Rosé asking if she should steal is fucking hilarious

York: IT WAS JOE BEANS!!!…

Man, y'all, I fucking ADORE Felix

....new ship....Jancy x Joe. Truebeans.

"I'm also not very observant" Mood

Conrad....or ConBAD???

omg the hall again

I love the attempts at opening the door

5 idiots and Jancy

I was about to say "5?" but then I remembered: oh yeah, Eugene and Felix are dumbasses (affectionately) too

DISSOLVED SPIRITS?!

FUCK OFF "CONRAD" WHAT THE FUCK

"It's my train now" you son of a fucking bitch, I will end you.

Premier chat: ARM JAIL

"We're your dad"

Who are you Conrad Octur

You know what, I don't care, you're a BITCH, that's what you are!!!

"No one's interested in hypnotism; no one wants to see my shows-" No, no one wants to see a dick, which is what you are "Conrad Octur"

Angry Grandma

Go off Grandma

Go off Drawtectives, fuck him up

"It doesn't matter, they're dead. It doesn't matter to me."

FUCK YOU "CONRAD OCTUR"

Fuck you "Conrad" you used Felix >;(

FELIX JUST WANTED TO BE HELPFUL YOU FUCKING "IT DOESN'T MATTER IF THEY'RE DEAD" PIECE OF SHIT

Horrific death slime

SHUT UP!!

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!

"Me me me me, I did it ALL" bitch, fuck off

SOUP SOUP SOUP

DUNK THE SON OF A BITCH

Haaaaa >:)

Eugene!!! :D

Shut up "Conrad"

Bye Felix

Is this the real life? Or is this fantasy???

"Is there any soup?"

Eugene... 🥺🥺🥺

HUCK E HEESE?!?!?

FUCK YEAH LET'S GOOOOO

Heeeeeyyy, Jancy

YAAAAAAAAYYY HUCK E HEESE!!!

Aaaaaaahhh

It's over

It's done

I'm crying

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh

The fucking end credits

Possible Season 3???

omg please please please

YEAAAHHH!!!

#drawtectives spoilers #drawtectives season 2 #drawtectives

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thenightling · 1 year

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Why Wednesday is NOT a Harry Potter rip-off

Most of the “Hot Takes” about the Netflix series Wednesday are that it’s a shameless rip-off of Harry Potter. Why? Because there’s a boarding school and supernatural creatures?

Wednesday features Wednesday Addams going to Nevermore Academy, a school for “Outcasts.” In the context of the show Outcast means monsters or people with super powers. The school residents include werewolves, vampires, gorgons, and sirens as the main species based cliques. And the Principal was a shapeshifter. Other supernatural creatures in attendance include a telekinetic, an artist who has psychic visions and can temporarily bring his art to life, and a boy who can control bees. A ghost and a Hyde monster also makes an appearance. And Wednesday, herself, is a seer.

As far back as the 1930s the Addams Family has had witches. Charles Addams, himself, said that Morticia was a witch and he was her creator. In the 1960s Addams Family show the opening theme song has the line “So get a witch’s shawl on, a broomstick you can crawl on. We’re gonna pay a call on... The Addams Family.” Grandmama brewed potions in every incarnation of the family and cursed a man in the 90s Addams Family movies. Morticia’s sister, Ophelia, had flowers growing out of her head in the 1960s show. If you think there was nothing supernatural about The Addams Family, you clearly were not paying attention.

Now, in the show Wednesday, anyone with powers or who is of another species other than human, are called Outcasts. Everyone else is a Normie. No, this is not a rip-off of Harry Potter’s Muggles. In role playing games I sometimes had ordinary human characters called Vanillas. In The Dresden Files TV series they were called civilians. Fables called them Mundies, which was short for Mundanes. In Fred Saberhagen’s Dracula books the humans are sometimes called Breathers or Mortals. Breathers is also what the ghosts in a few young adult book series call humans. That and “Fleshies” like in the Casper movie. In Bewitched and Sabrina: The Teenage Witch, non-magical people were called mortals. The vampires of Anne Rice’s novels the human characters are called mortal.

So between Civilians, Breathers, Fleshies, Mundies, Mortals, and Vanilla, the idea of the supernatural society having another name for the non-magical ordinary humans also was not invented by J. K. Rowling for Harry Potter. You would have to have had very limited experience with the horror and fantasy genres if you think Harry Potter was the first to come up with the concept of a school of the magically incline.

The Worst Witch- about a little girl in Witch School, was first published in 1974 and the first movie version was in 1986 and then it had two TV show adaptations.

Even Monster High- which I, myself, have compared the school in Wednesday to- was not the first of it’s kind.

In 1988 there was an animated movie called Scooby Doo and the Ghoul School where Shaggy got a job as a Phys Ed Teacher in an “All Ghoul school” inhabited by the daughters of the classic movie monsters. You had the daughter of Dracula, the daughter of The wolfman, the daughter of The mummy, and a daughter of a ghostly phantom. Sound familiar? It was Monster High before Monster High.

And don't forget even the novel Dracula in 1897 mentioned Scholomance (School of Magick) a mystical school supposed to be hidden in Eastern Europe over a lake. Also unlike Harry Potter, in the world of Wednesday, much like True Blood, the general public do seem aware that werewolves, vampires, and the like exist.

Does Wednesday borrow from other Gothic Horror and teen dramas or who-done-its? Of course. But it’s done in its own unique way. And it’s a spin-off of a beloved property, The Addams Family. So just sit back and relax and enjoy it for what it is. This is not a rip-off of Harry Potter. It’s a hodgepodge of Gothic fantasy and it’s the first time Tim Burton has felt like ...well, himself, in over fifteen years. Stop looking for reasons to hate it and just have fun. With Gothic horror films like The Invitation also embracing old Gothic Horror tropes, and Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman finally having its own TV show adaptation, I find it to be a breath of fresh air to see 2022 being the year that Gothic Horror has finally made a pop culture return without a cynical deconstruction by people who never appreciated the genre. I had been hoping for this kind of entertainment for a long, long time.

#The Addams family #Addams Family #Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Harry Potter #Anti-Harry Potter #AntiHarry Potter #Anti J. K. Rowling #AntiJ. K. Rowling #Anti-J. K. Rowling #Scooby Doo #Tim Burton #Scooby Doo and the Ghoul School #Monster High

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