Army is a fandom that has existed for 13 years and has remained in an incredible evolutionary stasis, and not in a good way.
I saw RM and J-Hope's stories, two members I adore, but this is disappointing from any perspective. I can't stand seeing other ARMYs who have jumped on this new, fake philosophy of freedom for idols to either defend them or turn a blind eye, calling those who express their discontent "fake ARMYs." I don't care if they were simply there enjoying his music and that's why they took pictures with him.
If BTS's music reflects who they are, why doesn't the music of Chris Brown, a man who brutally assaulted his ex-girlfriend and spent five years in prison, reflect it?
Questioning the actions of your favorites doesn't make you any less of a fan. I invite you to reflect on this.
Personally, I've never been one for all this celebrity dating stuff. And my dislike grows more and more when I see those ridiculous comments about the enigmatic relationship between Emma, Ben and Jenna.
Are they dating? Are they friends? What the hell is it to you?
I don't care if he didn't say "good morning" to the supermarket cashier four years ago and that's why he's a jerk and doesn't deserve Emma and Jenna is much better. You guys are treating twenty-something adults like damn characters from a fan fiction. Remember, you don't know anything about any of the people involved.
1. adj. Pertaining to or related to sexual love or pleasure. They felt a strong erotic attraction towards her.
Throughout your life, youâve dated several peopleâsome worse than others. But without a doubt, compared to Wednesday Addams, all of them feel insignificant.
Anyone outside your relationship might think the bar is set incredibly low; yet for you, she is the best girlfriend you could ever hope for. And to this day, she still makes you fall a little more in love with her every single day.
It could be her unique way of seeing the world, her unyielding sense of justice, the almost religious devotion with which she pursues each of her interests; her valuesâno matter how questionable they may seemâwhich she defends without hesitation.
Or the way her gaze softens when she looks at you; how she no longer feels the need to be hostile at your side because she knows you wonât belittle her. The trust sheâs built with you allows her to speak without fear of her stoic mask cracking. Sheâs even capable of opening space in her schedule and rearranging her routines just to give you the time you want.
With you, she can allow herself to be who she is.
To let you know her darkest thoughts, her desires, her deepest goals. She has no problem showing you her loveâmaybe not in the most conventional way, but she does it in her own way. And in the end, thatâs all that matters.
Itâs not just what lies behind the walls sheâs built. Wednesday is physically beautiful, though you donât know if sheâs aware of it or if she simply doesnât care.
Every time she fixes her gaze on you before suggesting you join one of her risky trespassing escapades, those dark eyesâindecipherable to othersâare filled, for you, with a rebellious spirit that seems to claim you as her permanent accomplice.
If the lighting is right, her freckles stand out delicately; her full lips contrast with her pale skin, and her sharp cheekbones define her face with almost cruel precision. She looks so exquisite that the primitive urge to lunge at her and devour her like an animal settles beneath your skin.
Civilization comes first.
Though she may dislike the term, you know her. You canât just start kissing every inch of her skin out of nowhere. That would break her usual control, and she values that balance far too much. Sheâs reserved with physical contact in front of others, and when youâre alone, she doesnât change all that much.
The air is lighter, yes; she kisses you and holds you more oftenâby Wednesday Addams standards, of course. Youâve learned to love her like that. Otherwise, you wouldâve ended things long ago. Hers has always been more mental than physical; thatâs why thereâs a clearly marked carnal distance.
A line you havenât crossed for her comfort.
And itâs made you wonder more than once: does she actually desire you? Sexually speaking.
Youâre not naĂŻve. Youâve already had your first time. It was an important step you took together, in due time. She read articles, asked for adviceâreluctantlyâfrom her parents, which ended up turning into improvised sexology lessons.
The experience was a little clumsy, with nervous laughter on your part and palpable tension on both sides. After that came a few more encountersâpleasant, yes. But the distance between each one would be enough to drive anyone with a warm blood mad.
Not that it bothers you. In fact, there are benefits to that restraint. ButâŠ
In the past few days, you donât know if sheâs doing it on purpose: every little thing she does has become unbearably desirable. You know your bodyâs natural reaction to herâher appearance draws you in, her personality makes you fall for her. Lately, those two factors have decided to join forces without mercy.
She could ask for your opinion on the scent of her new organic poison, and all you can think about is how soft her voice sounds when she speaks to you. How her long lashes flutter with almost theatrical precision. How youâd like to see that flawless face undone because of you.
Desire has coiled in your abdomen like a tense spring, ready to snap. And it stops being amusing when it occupies your mind all day, turning from a simple impulse into something almost physiological.
The other day, you were watching her at her desk from the comfort of her bed, as she typed away on her typewriter.
Her agile fingers moved deftly over each key. That precise, almost hypnotic motion pulled an involuntary sigh from you.
During a fencing practice, you handed her your water bottle. Your fingers brushed.
There was a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, her cheeks subtly flushed from the effort, her hair slightly disheveled. Her chest rose and fell in a steady, deep rhythm.
If you hadnât been paying such close attention, you wouldnât have noticed.
She drank with a mixture of restraint and urgency that contrasted with her impassive expression. A drop slipped from the corner of her lips and slowly traced its way down to her chin; others followed. They dampened the neckline of her black uniform.
Your ears burned.
And when you saw her sliding the bow of her cello across the rosin, you realized you needed to stop. It wasnât healthy for your mind to wander like that when she was doing completely normal things. You had to put this absurd internal struggle into words before a vein in your head decided to betray you.
âFor the past two weeks I havenât been able to look her in the eye normally. Every little thing she does makes me shiver. I feel like a kid with a crush âyou complained, pressing a pink pillow against your face.
âWhen you told me you were having problems with Wednesday, I thought it was something serious. Not that youâre suffering because sheâs gorgeous and youâre into it âEnid commented from her desk, applying a coat of light blue polish to her nails.
âYouâre obviously not understanding my situation. I donât even understand it myself! Itâs exasperating.
âI donât quite see why itâs such a problem that youâre physically attracted to your partner. Iâve heard of cases where itâs the opposite, but like yours? Never âshe closed the bottle and opened a pink oneâ. So please, explain.
You let out a long sigh, set the pillow aside, and propped yourself up on your elbows.
âYou know Wednesday. She prioritizes logic above all else and is extremely composed when it comes to our relationship. I bet you never imagined sheâd end up in a stable relationship before you did.
Enid frowned, offended.
âGo on.
âI want her, Enid. Itâs been unbearable. My mind wonât stop creating erotic scenarios with her. Every time I see her, I feel this primitive urge that I have to suppress so I donât make her uncomfortable. Iâve wanted to talk about it so many times, but Iâm scared of making her feel pressured. Do you get it?
âI think so âshe slipped her hand under the UV lampâ. Youâre afraid to communicate your needs because of how she might react. Wednesday doesnât consider sex a central part of the relationship, and that makes you think your desire might be intrusive. Is that it?
You swallowed, embarrassed to hear it said out loud.
âYeah.
âThen talk to her. She loves you. Sheâll make the effort to understand. Youâre not breaking any unspoken rule by communicating it.
âI guess Iâll try.
The talk with Enid didnât work.
It just gave the problem a name.
You wandered after leaving the shared room, the one you knew like the back of your hand. Your legs moved, but without a clear destination; you just wanted to clear your mind of those overwhelming thoughts and that sticky feeling.
Until your ears caught a melody you could never ignore: the powerful articulation of the strings of a handcrafted cello, made of spruce and maple. Played by the only person who could make your skin prickle without even orchestrating a note.
A shiver ran down your spine. Your feet, obedient to the sound, started moving.
The music room carried a faint scent of damp wood and disinfectant. You didnât like it, but over time it became tolerable. You enjoyed spending hours there, listening to Wednesday play.
As you stepped inside, you saw her in the dim light. A ray of moonlight slipped through the tall windows, illuminating her with almost indecent intent.
Eyes closed, contained intensity, a slightâalmost imperceptibleâexpression of concentration brushing against irritation. Her arms moved with deliberate precision between chords.
Your saliva slid down your throat like warm honey.
Your lips parted.
Wednesday looked so unreal in that moment that, for a second, you doubted her existence.
You let her finish the piece. When she did, her eyes opened with that usual calm. Feeling her gaze directly on you still managed to make you nervous.
âYou did well âyou said, breaking the tension your own presence seemed to radiateâ. Youâve always been skilled with Baroque symphonies.
Her eyelids didnât fully relax. She set the bow aside and stood, slowly walking toward you. A glint of contemplation crossed her eyes. Your heart felt like it wanted to run straight to her with every step.
âYouâve been acting weird lately.
She said it plainly, with a certainty impossible to argue with.
âWeird how?
âLike when youâre hiding something youâre ashamed for me to discover.
She stepped closer, closing the distance. Her breathing was calm, as always; yours, erratic.
âDonât try to deny it. Iâve studied your behavior enough to know something is troubling you⊠What is it?
You lowered your head, nervous, running a hand across your forehead. No matter how much you wanted to say it, the words died in your throat.
She stepped closer again. The tiles echoed beneath her platform shoes.
âI⊠yeah, I have been acting weird.
She nodded slightly.
âAnd itâs because⊠âyou searched for an explanationâ Iâve been feeling unwell.
She tilted her head, raising a brow.
âUnwell?
âYeah⊠unwell. And it has to do with you.
Confusion flickered across her face. Pure, genuine. With Wednesday, ambiguity rarely worked.
You scratched your temple, trying to organize your thoughts.
âItâs not that thereâs anything wrong with our relationship. Iâve been comfortable with you, like always. But⊠thereâs something thatâs been on my mind these past few weeksâŠ
You exhaled.
âIâve been wanting you⊠sexually âyour voice falteredâ. It probably doesnât seem like a big issue to you, but it has been for me. I know you tend to abstain when it comes to the physical. I understand that, I respect it⊠thatâs why I didnât want to tell you.
The heat in your cheeks was irreversible.
She blinked.
And then she did something that completely caught you off guard: she clasped her hands together and started fidgeting with her fingers, looking away. An insecure gesture. Unusual.
Silence settled between you.
âI didnât expect that âshe admitted at lastâ. But it makes sense. I noticed the way youâve been looking at me⊠I didnât think that was the reason.
Her voice was soft, reserved just for you. But there was something else. A slight hesitation.
Your gazes met.
And in that instant, the spring youâd been tightening for weeks threatened to snap.
The moon still bathed her face.
You took a step forward.
Then another.
Then another.
Until you were too close.
She leaned back slightly⊠and then returned to her place.
âWednesday⊠âyour voice came out lower than expected.
She didnât say anything.
She didnât have to.
You could smell her.
Ink, smoke, candle wax, resin.
Your hands moved before your mind could catch up. You grabbed her by the waist and pressed your lips to hers.
A murmur of surprise vibrated against your mouth⊠and faded.
She rose onto the tips of her toes to meet you better. Her hands slid to the back of your neck.
The contact wasnât clumsy.
It was⊠measured.
At first.
Wednesday didnât respond immediately. Her lips stayed firm against yours, as if analyzing the gesture, as if breaking it apart in silence, piece by piece. You could feel itâher mind working even in the middle of the contact.
But she didnât pull away.
And that was enough for something inside you to tighten even further.
Her breathing, usually imperceptible, changed first. A slight shift. Almost inaudible. But you knew her.
Her fingers barely tightened at your nape.
A decision.
Then she responded.
Not with haste. Not with desperation. But with a precision that completely unraveled you. She tilted her face slightly, adjusting the angle, as if searching for the most efficient way to fit against you. Her lips moved against yours with contained firmness, learning, recognizing.
Testing.
A shiver ran through you.
It wasnât a soft kiss.
It was⊠intentional.
Like everything about her.
You tried to deepen it, just slightly, testing the limit. Your hands tightened at her waist, pulling her a little closer.
And thatâs when it happened.
A small break.
Wednesday inhaled against your mouth.
Short.
Contained.
But real.
Her fingers tightened, no longer just resting, but holding you. Not to push you away.
To stay.
The change was subtle, but irreversible.
Her control was still there⊠but now it was being used differently.
She leaned in closer.
Enough for your bodies to align with almost uncomfortable precision. Her forehead brushed yours for a brief moment when she parted her lips slightlyânot to stop, but to observe.
Her eyes were open.
Locked onto yours.
Dark.
Darker than usual.
ââŠSo this is whatâs been distracting you âshe murmured, her voice lower, heavier.
She didnât sound annoyed.
She sounded⊠focused.
Her lips brushed yours again, slower this time. As if now she knew exactly what she was doing to you. As if she were testing a hypothesis.
âItâs a fairly evident physiological response âshe continued, almost in a whisper, though her breathing was no longer perfectly steadyâ. Although⊠more intense than I anticipated.
And still, she didnât pull away.
Quite the opposite.
Her hand left your nape only to move, with deliberate slowness, up to your jaw. Her fingers settled there, subtly guiding your face.
Controlling.
But not to stop.
To direct.
She kissed you again.
This time without rehearsal.
Without visible analysis.
Firmer.
More present.
And when your lips parted slightly, she hesitated.
One second.
Exact.
Then she moved forward.
Not clumsily⊠but with a dangerous curiosity.
A low sound slipped from your throat before you could stop it.
Mistake.
Because she felt it.
Wednesday paused just enough to register the reaction. Her eyes narrowed with something new. Something that wasnât coldness.
It was interest.
ââŠThatâs new too âshe murmured.
But her thumb, resting against your jaw, moved slightly.
A minimal gesture.
Unconsciously intimate.
Her control hadnât broken.
It had⊠redirected.
And that was worse.
Because now she was choosing to stay there.
With you.
In it.
âIf this is part of what you described⊠âher lips brushed yours as she spokeâ then I suppose it would be illogical to ignore it.
And this time, when she kissed you, there was no pause.
And this time, when she kissed you, there was no pause.
That was what broke you.
Not her control. Not her logic. Not her meticulous way of approaching you.
But the fact that she didnât stop.
Something in your chest gave all at once.
Your hands, which until now had stayed at her waist, moved with an urgency you no longer tried to disguise. They slid up her back, pulling her closer, as if the space between you had become unbearable.
A mistake.
Or maybe not.
Wednesday tensed.
Not to pull away.
To process.
You felt it in the way her body reacted against yours: rigid at first⊠and then, just barely, giving in enough. Her breathing faltered again, this time more noticeably. A small disruption that didnât match her usual precision.
You didnât stop.
You deepened the kiss, this time without asking, letting yourself be carried by the impulse youâd been holding back for weeks. There was something almost desperate in the way you held her now, in how your fingers clutched at the dark fabric of her clothes.
You needed more.
And she noticed.
She pulled back slightly.
Not completely.
Just enough.
The air between you was thick. Uneven.
Her lips brushed yours as she spoke.
âYouâre⊠altering the rhythm âshe said quietly.
It wasnât a complaint.
It was an observation.
Her eyes moved over your face, lingering on your mouth, on the way your breathing had turned unsteady, on the closeness you were no longer willing to give up.
And then she understood.
Not as theory.
As experience.
Her fingers, which had been guiding, tightened more firmly on your jaw. Not to push you away. To keep you there.
âYouâre not trying to control it âshe added.
Almost like a conclusion.
Your response wasnât verbal.
You kissed her again.
More direct.
More urgent.
This time tilting her slightly back with the force of the movement.
Another break.
Clearer.
Wednesday let the air leave her against your mouth, and this time she didnât try to hide it. Her grip changed: one hand returned to your nape, but the other moved down, stopping at your waist with a new pressure.
Not experimental.
Reactive.
Her logic didnât disappear.
It adapted.
Her lips responded with more firmness, following your rhythm instead of imposing her own. It wasnât just analysis anymore⊠it was participation.
That made her stop again.
For a moment.
Her eyes opened, locking onto yours with something different.
Darker.
Sharper.
ââŠThis isnât efficient âshe murmured, though she didnât pull awayâ. But it doesnât seem irrelevant either.
And that was her surrender.
Not emotional.
But functional.
She pulled you toward her again.
This time, it was her decision.
The kiss changed.
Not deeper.
More intentional.
More⊠aware of the effect it had.
Her thumb moved slightly against your skin, as if she were registering every reaction, every micro-expression, every small sound you failed to suppress.
And when you didnâtâ
when another sigh slipped outâ
her fingers tightened.
That flash again.
Interest.
ââŠDefinitely not irrelevant âshe whispered, closer than before.
And this time, she didnât let you take the lead.
She did.
AAHH, THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS.
I hope you like it. đ«¶
Header credits go to all the original creators. Sorry, I don't remember their usernames. ;(
If you asked me, Iâd tell you that, given how emotionally complex Wednesday Addams is, it isnât difficult to build multiple headcanons around her.
You can imagine her as a deranged obsessive with her lover; as someone who would go to great lengths to understand her partner and everything commitment entails; as a person incapable of sustaining a relationship because of her own personality⊠or countless other possibilities.
Thatâs why Iâll try to give examples of what she might be like in a romantic relationship, aiming to be as realistic as possible.
To begin with: how likely is it that Wednesday would actually get a partner or fall in love with someone?
The show has already made it clear that she isnât interested in emotional bonds, especially romantic ones. And yet, somehow, she ends up giving in to them. That suggests she isnât immuneâshe simply rejects and represses them.
From that conclusion, I settled on three main reasons that could make someone compatible with her:
First, sharing similarities in temperament, personal philosophy, interests, or worldview.
Second, being extremely patient, empathetic, and devoted enough to walk beside her through the process.
Third, being her complete opposite: someone willing to show her the good in life and in people, without sugarcoating it. Essentially, a dynamic similar to the one she has with Enid.
Other reasons could certainly exist, but Iâll be guided by these three.
Now that weâve defined her potential compatibility, letâs move on to courtship.
Probably the hardest part. Wednesday isnât easily impressed, so capturing her attention is a genuine challenge.
But letâs assume you manage itâand more importantly, that she likes what she sees.
One crucial thing: she is not an easy girl. Donât try applying the âthree-month ruleâ here; you wouldnât even be close to earning one percent of her trust.
You need to be consistent and faithful to whatever it is that fascinates her, with multiple layers of depth so you donât end up disappointing her. This woman is the slow burn of the century.
She wonât confessâif she ever doesâuntil sheâs absolutely certain she knows you inside and out.
Another important factor is who falls first, and who falls harder. Personally, I think youâd fall first and sheâd fall harder.
But for now, letâs imagine it happens the other way around. You wouldnât know. Wednesday is a master liar, and her impassive face is the perfect façade to hide whatâs going on inside her head.
The signs that might give her away would be subtle: constant observation (easily mistaken for mere curiosity), orâmost telling of allâthat she wants you by her side.
She values her autonomy and her loneliness. She is visibly irritated when someone intrudes or forces her company. Choosing you of her own free will is a massive sign.
Her attempts to win you over would be subtle at first, eventually evolving into something eccentric and surprisingânot always in a good wayâthat makes it clear sheâs interested. The message might not be obvious, but itâs there.
Many people prefer to imagine her once sheâs already in a relationship, but they forget the entire path she had to walk just to even consider a romantic bond, let alone formalize it.
Wednesday wouldnât initially accept that she had once again fallen into the filthy claws of love. The first time ended disastrously, leaving behind a trail of tangled feelings that she swept under the rug until she was inevitably forced to face them.
The first thing sheâd try would be to distance herself from you or convince herself it would pass. Depending on the role you play in her life, it would be easier or harder to contain it. Wednesday doesnât sleep much as it is, but sheâd spend entire nights thinking about you: your interactions, the traits that captivate her so deeply, fantasizing about exploring every inch of you.
Maybe thatâs the only way she could rid herself of the sensation of being inside the Brazen Bull whenever youâre near⊠unless she ends up getting more attached than she intended.
Days, weeks, months passed.
She could no longer walk calmly through the academy.
The unpleasant desire to run into you and, at the very least, exchange glances haunted her constantly. During class, her attention inevitably drifted to your desk. That sensation of spiders tearing at her insides began to feel pleasurableâand it shouldnât. She couldnât sit in front of her typewriter without everything she typed revolving around you. Her inability to focus on her investigations was the final straw.
You were taking up far too much space in her mind, and you werenât even paying rent.
Finally acknowledging her feelings turned out to be easier than expected. There was no more confusion, and keeping her thoughts in order became manageable.
The confession came much, much later. You still had the same effect on her, but now she could think with a tibial head
She intercepted you in the halls of Nevermore and led you to the cemetery.
âIâm not an emotional person. I think itâs pathetic to waste all your energy on relationships that will inevitably end. But if thereâs something I hate more than emotional people, itâs hypocrisy.â
That was the first thing she said. Her cold tone made it sound more like a threat or a death warning.
âI, IâŠhave romantic feelings for youâ
It was never meant to be a normal confession. In fact, she was terrible at it. She stumbled over her words so many times that, out of embarrassment, she had to get straight to the point.
Neither of you expected it.
Now thenâwould she really be as good a girlfriend as people say?
Here Iâll return to the points mentioned earlier.
1. Obsession
Wednesday is obsessive about what sheâs passionate about, so itâs understandable that many people imagine her that way in a relationship. Still, itâs nowhere near healthy, and realistically, something like that wouldnât end well for either of you.
Her obsession would be deeper. She loves you and doesnât know how to handle it. Youâre the first thing she thinks about when she wakes up and the last before she sleeps. She finds more inspiration for her novel by writing about your character and Viper. She wants to do a thousand things with you, teach you everything she knows, tell you the darkest secrets of her family, and share every Addams tradition with you.
She suffers from a passive obsession: one that harms no one except herself⊠and perhaps someone who truly deserves it.
Her desire to protect you comes from deep within her heartâand perhaps from her characteristic need for control.
2. Understanding
This point is a personal favorite. Wednesday is determined and enjoys being an expert in multiple fieldsâexcept the emotional one. That territory was deliberately left unexplored, and now sheâs forced to traverse it because of the affection she feels for another person.
And she needs to understand it. Respecting her nature and not trying to change her isnât enough. A relationship demands commitment to oneself and to the other; both must work to keep it from collapsing.
Thatâs one of the lessons she learned from watching her parents grow up. She not only had to learn how to open up emotionally, but also how to stop thinking solely about herself and begin considering your needs. Undoubtedly the hardest part.
I like to imagine her after an argument caused by one of her authority-defying tantrumsâone that inevitably dragged you into itâwriting an apology letter. The trash can overflowing with failed attempts.
Understanding doesnât come to Wednesday as a romantic epiphany, but as a self-imposed obligation. She doesnât learn to love because she wants to, but because she considers it necessary.
To love without understanding would be irresponsible, and irresponsibility is something she despises.
From the beginning, she observes. Analyzes. Records patterns. She learns your silences, your reactions, your limits. She doesnât do it out of tenderness, but precision.
For Wednesday, knowing someone is a form of controlâbut also, though sheâd never admit it, a form of care.
She respects who you are, even when she doesnât agree with it.
She doesnât try to mold you in her image or correct you like a failed experiment. Still, passive respect isnât enough for her. She understands that a relationship isnât sustained by acceptance alone, but by mutual responsibility.
For the first time, she confronts the need to consider someone else without feeling invaded. She begins to wonder whether her decisions affect you, whether her silences hurt, whether her coldness comes across as contempt. It doesnât feel natural to her; it feels uncomfortable. Even so, she persists.
She learns to listen without interrupting, even when itâs hard not to analyze every word as a clue. She learns to yield emotional space without feeling like sheâs losing ground.
She learnsâslowlyâthat understanding doesnât mean dissecting, but accepting that there are things she cannot control.
Understanding also involves contradiction. Wednesday can love you and, at the same time, feel exhausted by closeness. She can choose you and still need to run away at times.
The difference is that now she recognizes it. She no longer lies to herself by thinking the problem is you.
She makes mistakes. Many of them. Sometimes she confuses honesty with brutality. Other times, she avoids important conversations because she doesnât know how to handle them without losing control. But when she realizes sheâs hurt you, she doesnât ignore it. She files it away mentally. Revisits it. Tries to do better, even if her progress is slow and barely visible.
One of the most significant changes is that she alters habits, not personality. She doesnât become expressive, but she becomes consistent. She doesnât become warm, but she becomes attentive. She remembers what matters to you, adjusts routines, makes small changes that only someone who observes with intention could make.
Understanding culminates in something simple and devastating for her: accepting that loving in her own way isnât enough. Accepting that if she chose you, she must also learn to love you in a way that makes you feel safe.
3. Instability
Not everything can be sunshine and sweetness. Like many people, being in love doesnât magically make her emotionally competent. To begin with, she wouldnât even admit what she feels.
âIt will pass. These feelings are temporary. Theyâre not worth it.â
Thatâs what she repeated to herself until, eventually, it worked.
In a formal relationship, the challenge would be enormous. Wednesday is as sealed-off as a vault, and thatâs a major obstacle. You never know if she truly enjoys being with you or secretly hates you.
Anything you do to make her feel loved will seem ineffective. Her gratitude doesnât sound natural, and her affection is rarely expressed in expected ways.
Wednesday isnât unstable because sheâs chaotic or impulsive; sheâs unstable because sheâs used to absolute control. Control over her emotions, her environment, her image. Falling in love shatters that internal architectureâand not in an enjoyable way.
At first, the relationship moves along as if everything is fine. There are no obvious dramas, no intense scenes. The problem is quieter: she doesnât know what to do with what she feels. She lacks the emotional language to express affection without feeling exposed, and every gesture of closeness feels like a loss of power.
She wonât tell you she misses you. Sheâll ask about your schedule.
She wonât tell you she needs you. Sheâll ask you to stay.
She wonât tell you sheâs jealous. Sheâll make a precise comment that radiates cruelty.
From the outside, she seems cold or distant. On the inside, sheâs fighting the urge to shut down completely.
Wednesday doesnât validate emotions; she analyzes them. And that makes every conflict more complicated. If youâre hurt, she wonât know how to comfort you without feeling awkward or fake. If youâre upset, sheâll try to âfixâ the problem instead of simply being there. She doesnât understand that sometimes loving isnât about solving, but about staying.
Her emotional secrecy breeds insecurity. You donât know if youâre doing things right, because she never confirms it. You donât know if you matter to her, because she doesnât show it in conventional ways. Even when sheâs in love, she maintains an emotional distance that hurts.
There are days when she seems present, almost warm. Others when she closes herself off completely, convinced that attachment is a weakness that must be eradicated. In those moments, she can become dry, irritable, even unintentionally cruelânot because sheâs stopped loving you, but because loving feels like too much.
She doesnât know how to ask for help either. Sheâd rather sabotage the relationship than admit something overwhelms her. She may provoke unnecessary arguments, pull away without explanation, or minimize your feelings to avoid confronting her own.
And still, thereâs something deeply honest about her instability.
When sheâs wrong, she knows it. When she hurts you, she blames herself in silence. She never justifies herself, but she doesnât explain either. Her apologies arenât immediate or emotional, but when they come, theyâre real. She doesnât promise to change; she promises to try to understand.
Loving Wednesday means accepting that there will be days when you feel invisible. Days when her love feels more like an idea than an embrace. But it also means knowing that when she chooses to stay, she does so with a fierce, almost primal loyalty.
She isnât an easy partner. She isnât a safe partner.
But she is a partner who loves with the same intensity with which she fears it.
Aaah, Wednesday Addamsâthe character that you are.
