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hislittleraincloud · 3 months

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Don't Mind Me, I'm Just Whoremoanal / Intro to Wenovan for the New Dolls

Ach. I just got word that the addict neighbor "isn't coming home" tomorrow. Her messages are terribly short, lacking in information, and few/far between. I mean my gods, is Afterburn 8 going to have to wait until fucking May/its year anniversary? What the fuck? I might have to force myself to try and write it, but that's the Cigarette at the Bus Stop for me. I fire up my writer's flame and take a puff and then that fucking hot mess of a bus lady tells me "I'm coming home" and then doesn't.

I'm working quite hard on the Miller's Girl fic because again, it doesn't require much thought for me. I know I have new followers thanks to that little fandom...and the teacher crush wing that flew at me and my fyp (I suppose that was to be expected once more Jenna stans saw MG). 🤦🏽‍♂️ My closest fanwives have access to its Live file and one already wants to divorce me for the soul-shattering Epilogue, so I might have to rethink including that...

Anyway. This, I suppose, is a short intro to #Wenovan (a.k.a. Black Bubblegum) ship, which was the untouched ship that pairs Wednesday Addams and Sheriff Donovan Galpin. Untouched until my pervy agegap loving ass came along with my observations of canon Wednesday and Sheriff Galpin's interactions from episode to episode. Of course, in 2023, I'm on the Dark Side of this fandom, but that's fine, since I live in a cave and am used to it. I write a lot from Wednesday's POV. The other agegap ship I write about is Gatesmonster (Laurel/Tyler 💀), but their relationship is the opposite of Wednesday's and the Sheriff's.

So I know y'all got that teacher crush thing going, and teacher crush is authority crush. Cop crush falls under that; it's a sibling to teacher crush.

Afterburn Wednesday (ABW) does have a little bit of a thing for authority, for older male authority figures. But she's also l essentially everything Cairo Sweet from MG wishes she were. She took charge of the intrigue she felt at first glance (canon Wednesday actually looks at the sheriff's body as he comes into the Weathervane, then there was the little grin she flashed him (!!!), followed by her ruminating on his words to her, etc. etc. I can make a good case for their canon) and isn't completely stupid about it. I tried to make ABW otherwise as close to canon as possible, since the story is meant to slip seamlessly into the show's very weird timeline. Still working on MG fic, but 8 is on my mind in a terrible way, especially after I listened to the following again. (As well as knowing what else I've been writing about them that's for the sequel and deleted scenes.)

I really like programming scenes from my story into audio shorts, since I have the cast members that I need for them (@brenli I haven't forgotten about the Wednesday & Bianca Mortal Kombat scene! I'm just really busy. I have all of the dialogue for it recorded though. Just needs to be put together).

I've shared it before, but sharing it again for those who are new, might be bored out of their skulls, and are waiting for MG. It is Wednesday cornering the Sheriff in his office on Outreach Day (which was a couple of days after she had a sexy vision of them). And her first kiss. 💕🎀🌸🎀✨

It's best listened to on headphones since I'm an idiot and was new to programming these, so the balance of the narrator's voice is way off. 💀 And that stupid phone ringing is annoying af LOL

youtube

I miss them so much. ❤️‍🩹✨🫴🏼🚔🕸️💕✨

#hello bbs #authority crush #teacher crush #crazy girlfriends #jonathan miller #student teacher #cop crush #wednesday addams #wednesday #wenovan #black bubblegum #satisfying afterburn #cairo sweet #jenna ortega #sheriff galpin #wednesday x donovan #satisfying afterburn chapter 3 #the kiss #miller's girl

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 1 year

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Old Wounds - Wenclair Fanfic, chapter 24

Description: Now aged 22, Wednesday Addams is an up-and-coming author. Her time at Nevermore is well behind her, and she is alone, and that suits her just fine...But when a 'new' neighbour shows up in her apartment building, she'll truly be tested on whether her "bad habit" of caring truly has been broken. (Hint: It hasn't.)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair

Rating: Mature (Fic is fully SFW up to Chapter 20)

Click Here For Previous Chapter

Click Here To Read This Chapter On AO3 or keep reading below!

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Following their latest tryst, Wednesday and Enid indulge in their privacy for a considerable amount of time. The day is still young enough that they have no need to rush back downstairs… and despite it’s unique appearance, Wednesday’s dark and dreary bedroom is quite the perfect backdrop for them simply enjoy each others company away from the prying eyes, ears, and other limbs of whomever lurks in this grand family home.

Which, considering the entrance they made earlier in the day is quite the blessing.

For Enid in particular, it allows her time to lay in a gleeful daze. She murmurs gentle affirmations about her experience those precious few minutes ago, and makes self-sustained small talk as she curls up by Wednesday’s side. It is hard to ignore how Enid is glowing. Truly she is on cloud nine – but despite this, she is still wary; still cautious. Ensuring Wednesday’s comfort is second nature to her at this point, and so Enid knows when and where to bring the energy down.

Right now is certainly one of those times – as their bodies and brains settle following their impulsivity. Wednesday is quietly thankful for Enid’s empathy. It is a trait Wednesday often considers a flaw in many people; a trait that makes them susceptible to manipulation...but Enid wears it with a piercing level of sincerity that it’s almost disarming. In fact, Enid sometimes uses it in her work to flip the narrative on others and make them the one being manipulated, all in pursuit of the latest gossip for article. It’s rather devious. Wednesday is quite fond of it, actually.

And of course, in this particular moment, Enid’s empathy brings both calmness and understanding. Perhaps it is not such a bad trait after all...

Wednesday watches Enid with a fond yet pensive gaze.

And Wednesday, naturally, does take this extended moment of restful seclusion to evaluate their latest sexual engagement. Now all is said and done, she mutely takes enjoyment from the intimacy, but knows herself better than to dare try and strive for more… In any case, she has enough to think on when she considers the touches, the sounds; the rush of endorphins Enid’s closeness brings.

Wednesday has never been one for drugs (unless they are of the poison variety, or being used for an appropriate kidnapping, of course), but she would wager the nature of oxytocin - that is, the brain’s love chemical – causes addictive rushes in much the same way. She feels crazy at times, but in a way that is much, much different from how she initially expected her loss of sanity to go.

Considering how she had wished for a dark psychosis to take hold of her, it is strange now to think upon how much she prefers this; how she prefers the love drunk inner chaos that Enid causes.

There is something she tries to not think too much on, however: there’s still a low grumble of need that sits in Wednesday’s lower stomach. It’s hungry and hard to ignore, like the quiet flame of a candle that refuses to snuff out… but Wednesday being Wednesday – she ignores it anyway. It’s rather inconvenient and she has no time for it just yet. Maybe one day, but not now.

Frankly, She’s still a way off addressing her own needs… but it’ll happen. Eventually.

Wednesday continues to muse; Enid continues to talks.

Enid returns to find Wednesday staring thoughtfully at a large painting of her mother and father. With a gentle nudge of her elbow, Enid offers Wednesday an amused grin at the portrait before them.

They lay together for a while longer. However, Enid eventually excuses herself to freshen up in the bathroom, which turns into an agreement to head downstairs. Conveniently enough, as she opens Wednesday’s bedroom door, she is met by their bags neatly waiting outside for them – presumably placed there by Lurch at some point or another.

Enid chucks them into the room with little effort. Wednesday then collects them and places them somewhere they’re less likely to be a trip hazard. Wednesday also neatens up the bedsheets, to ensure the room is as pristine as when they initially entered. She then exits the room, letting the door shut behind her with a satisfying ‘clunk’.

“Wondering how we’d look in our own painting, eh?” Enid jokes.

“Not at all,” Wednesday replies dryly. “Whilst I might show a preference for historic tradition, I find paintings like this to be frivolous and excessive.”

“Right? We could just take a selfie together!” Enid says with a light smirk. She pulls out her phone and wiggles it teasingly in front of Wednesday’s face.

Wednesday’s expression remains stoic. She is silent for a second.

“…Absolutely not.”

Enid rolls her eyes playfully, returning the device to her pocket.

“I’ll convince you one day,” She hums with a smile, as she quietly slides her hand into Wednesday’s own and gives it a light squeeze. “Are we ready, then?”

Wednesday looks down the staircase.

“Indeed. Let’s go discover what nefarious activities my mother has planned for us.”

Wednesday and Enid make their way downstairs. They seek out Morticia who has remained in the kitchen since their initial meeting. Thing is there too, and he casually greets Wednesday and Enid with a wave of a finger. He appears to be assisting Morticia by stirring a pot of something – A soup or strew, presumably, though considering the multi-use purpose of the Addams’ family kitchen, it could be anything – but he seems inexplicably coy for a hand who is usually so outspoken.

Enid and Wednesday exchange glances; a silent acknowledgement to each other that they now know for certain Thing must’ve been a part of Morticia’s earlier plans… but even with that in mind, Enid is far too excited to be upset and quickly scuttles over to him to have a catch-up. Wednesday is consequently left alone to the practised, disarming gaze of her mother.

“Have you and Enid settled into your room?” Morticia asks. Her voice is honeyed, a mischievous inflection leaving no room for second-guessing the true question that lurks behind her words.

Wednesday offers her signature glare.

“Yes, however Enid was intrigued and horrified by my collection of literature procured from the evidence of murder investigations,” She lies. “I am surprised you did not think to tidy them away. I had to spend 30 minutes hiding the ones with bloodstains so she would not faint.”

The falsehood rolls off her tongue naturally. On all accounts it sounds realistic too – from timekeeping, personalities; even Wednesday’s very real and beloved collection of murder books. Most people would fall for it easily... but Wednesday’s mother is not just anyone. Truthfully, Wednesday knows she won’t fall for it, but she also cannot see a world where she’d be anything but secretive concerning more intimate details of her life. Even with her mother who she trusts more than anything. Wednesday would frankly rather eat glass.

(Which suddenly gives her a great idea for a trap to set up for Pugsley.)

Morticia eyes Wednesday. She is clearly unconvinced, holding Wednesday’s challenging gaze for just a moment with a slight smirk and quirk of her eyebrow. She elicits a quiet, amused hum before she glances away to Enid and Thing across the kitchen.

“We’ll have to discuss these things later, my little raven. We must make haste with our activities for the day.”

Wednesday has zero qualms about this change in topic. Though she and Enid are both in the dark about these fun and exciting plans of her mothers’ – she is starting to think she might actually prefer the torture of painting each other’s nails than being subject to her Mother’s omniscient gazes… so long as the polish is black, and actually made from snake venom. She would be so lucky.

In any case, it would seem Wednesday’s concern about these planned activities are perhaps unfounded. Morticia directs them into her greenhouse, revealing a table overflowing with a number of dark coloured flowers, thorns, nettles, and ivies, etc. Morticia stands at the head of the table, hands clasped together. She explains that winter has been cruel to the grounds of the house and the family graveyard is looking terribly bare, which – naturally – is inexcusable for a family such as their own. As such, she would love to redecorate with a bundles crafted from the array of plant life before them. Morticia adds that it is wonderful group activity to partake in whilst they make idle chatter about the nature of life and death. Mostly death, of course.

So, flower arranging. She wants them to do flower arranging.

Enid seems pleasantly surprised to be offered such a calm and normal task, though she does stare a bit warily at the various nettles and ivies, concerned by their poisonous potential. That being said, she otherwise seems happy to start crafting after a little bit of guidance from Morticia. Wednesday, on the other hand, is hesitant… It’s not as bad as she expected, but her mother’s green thumb didn’t quite pass through the gene-pool, and Wednesday would frankly rather dig graves than decorate them. She’d even hazard a go at laying in an empty grave whilst it got filled in.

But alas she concedes, for the sake of Enid and her Mother’s happiness. They are both fortunate to be two of the few people in this world she actually cares for.

And so, Wednesday collects a number of thorned vines, and begins weaving them into circular shapes – similar to a wreath. It’s simple enough, and the weaving comes naturally to her. It is much like tying her braids, and though she cares little about the task at hand, she finds it similarly easy to let herself get entranced by the repetitive motion. Over. Under. Over. Under. Again and again, until she reaches the end and passes it over to Enid for her to decorate. They become quite the machine, seamlessly crafting amongst the idle chatter that Enid upkeeps with Morticia. Wednesday will not dignify calling this activity “fun” but she doesn’t feel like stabbing pins into her eyeballs...so, that’s something. Plus, Enid is enjoying herself, which is never a bad thing.

Every so often, Wednesday pauses to asses her work, and catches her mother watching them with a fond, prideful gaze. Though Wednesday says nothing, she can predict the conversation that is slowly forming behind her mother’s watchful eyes. She knows it’ll happen as soon as an opportunity presents itself.

And present itself it does. Unfortunately.

“Enid, darling, perhaps you should take a nap?” Morticia suggests. She puts down the bouquet she’s holding, giving Enid a practised sympathetic look. “We’ve made an exemplary level of progress, and in any case, it would give Wednesday and I time to have a personal catch-up.”

They have been crafting for a few hours when it happens. Enid begins to yawn. Just once at first – It’s a small, sharp yawn of someone who has been focusing on a task for a few hours without

realising. A gentle whip of fatigue that is quickly shaken off out of dedication to a person’s own enjoyment… but then she yawns again. A longer, deep yawn that brings tears to the corner of Enid’s eyes. She blinks them back, only to yawn once more seconds later. It continues downhill from there. It would seem the activities of the day seem to have caught up with her, and Enid’s energy seems to all but disappear within a matter of fifteen minutes. She continues talking, smiling, offering Wednesday cute little glances, but it’s glaringly obvious that her internal battery is running out of juice.

Enid bears a guilty expression for a moment, and she looks to Wednesday for support. Wednesday stares back blankly. She is stuck for an answer. If Enid leaves then she knows the kind of conversation she is awaiting, but if she convinces Enid to stay then there will be an inevitable pang of guilt that will needle its way into her stomach and gnaw at her like a parasite.

Feelings. How inconvenient they are at times like this.

Enid yawns again.

Wednesday feels her resolve soften. She knows what she has to do.

“Go rest, Enid,” She says quietly; quickly, before she can think to change her mind.

Enid offers an appreciative smile.

“I’ll make it up to you,” She whispers in reply, before standing from her chair. She takes a step closer to Wednesday and in lieu of a parting kiss, brushes her hand over Wednesday’s gently. Enid then looks over to Morticia and with another short yawn, she asks “What else are we doing today? I’ll make sure to set an alarm on my phone.”

Morticia waves her hand in the air dismissively, “Oh Enid, do not worry yourself,” She says airily. “Just rest, and we’ll continue our festivities when you return.”

Enid nods, and flashes a smile at both Morticia and Wednesday before excusing herself. Thing, who had been hanging around whilst they worked, hitches a ride on her shoulder – seemingly keen to leave the vicinity. He’s not the only one.

Wednesday now finds herself alone with her Mother. In person. For the first time in goodness knows how long.

Morticia looks at Wednesday with an indulgent, satisfied smile. She picks up the flowers again and gives them a sniff. She sighs happily.

“These flowers remind me of funerals, you know? Your father, despite not being a gardener, helped me plant a whole field of them just so I could see them everyday; just so he could watch my enjoyment. Incredibly romantic, is it not?” Morticia’s voice is dreamy, whimsical. She brushes her hand through the petals, and pulls one from the bunch, twirling it in her fingers. “I see a lot of your father in you, Wednesday.”

“It’s almost like I’m a genetic composition of you and him. Shocking.” Wednesday deadpans in reply.

She wishes she could refute her mother’s comparison. Despite her displeasure at being unceremoniously trapped in this conversation, she would never dare to find disgust in being directly compared to her Mother or Father – not in their presence, certainly. She did so as a teenager, and remembers the pain it caused with regret. Wednesday is happy to cause emotional damage to other people; people who don’t deserve to find kinship with Wednesday in the first place...but to her parents? No. She will accept the comparison time and time again, regardless of the situation.

Wednesday’s response elicits an amused hum from Morticia. She stands and waltzes to the seat that Enid had recently vacated. As she sits, she picks up and assesses one of the flower wreaths that came from Enid and Wednesday’s teamwork. She smiles.

“I see myself and your father in both you and Enid, actually. You’re more than just lovers, you’re partners, teammates, always quietly working together against the world’s expectations of you.”

Wednesday blinks, not expecting the emotional pang that hits her at her mother’s recognition. She forgets at times that her mother’s words hold meaning above everyone else’s… but the flicker of emotion is gone quick, buried before Wednesday can dwell on it too much. Mother or not, Wednesday will never be one for emotional displays.

“What is the purpose of this conversation?” She asks.

Morticia chuckles.

“Do all conversations need a purpose, little viper?”

Wednesday stares at Morticia blankly.

“I am simply expressing that I believe you and Enid to be a perfect match. Our phone calls had convinced me as much, but after seeing you two in person? Well… there’s no denying it.”

Wednesday softens slightly, but she can’t help offer a final bit of snark.

“The phone calls were ideal. It is always preferable when you can simply hang-up on a conversation.”

“Wednesday, you have not hung-up on me once.” Morticia bites back with a mischievous curl of her lips.

Wednesday pauses. She stares daggers into the table for a second as she realises – well shit – she hasn’t ever hung up on her mother. Frankly she would not dare. Wednesday has historically slammed the phone down on major book publishers, scriptwriters, even a Hollywood director or two without so much as a second thought – but may the non-existent Gods forbid she ever even attempt to end a call with her mother unprompted.

However, Wednesday will neglect to comment on the calls she has simply not picked up. Those are outliers.

In any case, Wednesday does not have a witty reply. She’s caught in a box of respecting her mother too much for her regular passive aggressiveness, but not prepared enough to offer any thing resembling emotional intimacy. So Wednesday silently grumbles and stares at the table.

“You find it hard to talk to me, don’t you? Especially in person?” Morticia queries. She reaches out, tracing her hand over the silhouette of Wednesday’s shoulder without quite touching her. “I understand, you have always been this way. I hope you find it easier with Enid.”

Wednesday glances towards her mother. She nods slightly.

“I do.”

A warm fills Morticia’s expression.

“Good. You deserve someone who makes emotion feel safe.

Wednesday pulls in a tight breath. Again, she feels herself soften against her mother’s fond words. Unfortunately she is still struggling to find an anchor to offer much more to the conversation, even with knowing it was going to happen; even when it’s her mother of all people.

Wednesday drags her eyes away from the table. She manages to settle them on her mother’s face, and does her best to offer an expression that does not resemble a glare… but, ultimately, she still says nothing.

Morticia’s hand snakes up from hovering above Wednesday’s shoulder, to floating to the side of her face, faux-cupping Wednesday’s cheek. There’s a pride sitting in Morticia’s eyes; a joy that can only be expressed by a mother seeing her child thrive.

“I am so, so happy for you Wednesday.”

Wednesday feels the tiniest hint of a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. It’s miniscule – practically blink and you’ll miss it, but it’s there all the same, if only for a second. It’s enough for her mother to catch though; enough for her to see what Wednesday wishes she could express.

“-And who knows,” Morticia adds after a moment. “Maybe one day you two will get married.”

Wednesday freezes.

Oh.

#Wenclair #Wednesday x Enid #Enid x Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Enid Sinclair #Wednesday Netflix #fanfic #Ao3 #Hello hi #small authors note in the tags that my laptop is going in for repair #so uh next chapter might be a hot minute sorry :')

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