So, I don’t know how to start this, but I do Male and Gender neutral stories, I do stories mostly based off of: Well, a lot of stuff. Ranging from Anime to Cartoons (Theres a difference) to TV Shows. I cant List them all but if you ask I’ll at least do my best. Thanks.
The Big Ones
My Wattpad
I wrote for:
Arcane
Wednesday
Stranger Things
Marvel
A lot of shit
More I’ll eventually Update
Master List
Bitterly Beautiful: Wednesday Addams X Male Reader
Part 1: Here
Part 2: Here
Parte 3: here
Part 4: Here
Parte 5: here
Part 6: Here
Part 7: here
The End, Part 8: Here
Season 2, Part 1: Here
Season 2, part 2: here
Season 2, part 3: here
Season 2, part 4: here
Season 2, part 5: here
Season 2, part 6: here
Season 2, Part 7: here
Season 2, part 8: here
My Better Bitter Half Wednesday Addams X Twin Brother Reader.
Had this created on my other site so i decided to post chapter 1, if you guys enjoy it or not, let me know. I based this off a previous post I did and decided I enjoyed the concept so much to make a whole story from it.
Chapter 1: Rūklon Hen Zaldrīzes
(The Dragons Tongue)
As the Son of Otto Hightower you have obligations to uphold, but that does not mean your heart cannot want for something more: Rhenerya.
———
“As the first century of the Targaryen dynasty came to a close, the health of the Old King, Jaehaerys, was failing. In those days, House Targaryen stood at the height of its strength with adult dragons under its yoke. No power in the world could stand against it. King Jaehaerys reigned over nearly years of peace and prosperity.
But tragedy had claimed both his sons, leaving his succession in doubt. So, in the year, the Old King called a Great Council to choose an heir.
Over a thousand lords made the journey to Harrenhal. Fourteen succession claims were heard but only two were truly considered: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the King's eldest descendant, and her younger cousin, Prince Viserys Targaryen, the King's eldest male descendant. Rhaenys, a woman, would not inherit the Iron Throne.
The lords instead chose Viserys... my father. Jaehaerys called the Great Council to prevent a war being fought over his succession. For he knew the cold truth. The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon... was itself, this was the fist ember of the war, the Dance of the Dragons.”
———
Dust from Syrax’s wings settles across the courtyard stones. Sand scatters like startled birds. The dragon landed and stepping off of it was the one and only, Rhaenerya Targaryen. She had long, Platinum blonde and a beautiful face of high cheekbones and gorgeous eyes.
Rhaenerya walked forward, still glowing with that post-flight exhilaration.
Ser Harrold was awaiting.
“Welcome back, Princess. I trust your ride was pleasant.”
“Try not to look too relieved, ser.” She jokes, and he replies on kind.
“I am relieved. Every time that golden beast brings you back unspoiled, it saves my head from a spike.” Rhaenyra smirks and walks toward the waiting carriage. Stepping out of the carriage was Alient Hightower, the daughter of the hand of the King, Otto Hightower.
“Syrax is growing quickly.” Alicent says,
“She’ll soon be as large as Caraxes. That’s almost large enough to saddle two.”
“I believe I’m quite content as a spectator, thank you.” Alicent admits.
Rhaenyra studies her friend with a teasing glint. Rhaenerya and Alicent made their way back to the massive city of kings landing. A herald of prosperity for the last hundreds years of Targaryen Rule. Inside a bedchamber a handmaiden has stepped out. But not before quickly bowing in reverence to Rhaenerya before she enters to see her mother. Queen Aemma Targaryen.
“Ah... Rhaenyra.” She says, “You know I don't like you to go flying while I'm in this condition.”
“You don't like me to go flying while you're in any condition.” She poked back, Alicent enters as well and immediately bows.
“Your Grace.”
“Good morrow, Alicent.”
“Did you sleep?” Rhaenerya asks her mother, who smiled weakly. The labors of pregnancy were upon her.
“I slept.” She says sternly.
“How long?”
“I don't need mothering, Rhaenyra.”
“Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants, all focused on the babe. Someone has to attend to you.” She says to her mother, and Aemma sighs.
“You will lie in this bed soon enough, Rhaenyra. This discomfort is how we serve the realm.” She explained, but Rhaenerya had higher dream.
“I'd rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory.” A warm laugh comes from her mother. “We have royal wombs, you and I. The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip. Now take a bath. You stink of dragon, Lady Cuperbearer.”
Rhenerya had made herself scarce and left, she had to prepare for her duties as the Cuperbearer for the most Poweful Man in Westeros, her father, the King of Them all, Viserys Targaryen. Viseryes, a slightly plump faced but pleasant man.
Viseryes sat at the head of the small council, enjoying the revels of his lordship. But a man spoke up, dark skin and grey hair adorned in amazing dreadlocks. This was Lord Corlys, Master of Ships and the legendary seafarer and the head of House Velaryon, a wealthy and powerful Valyrian house from Driftmark.
“My lords.” He begins, “The growing alliance among the Free Cities has taken to styling itself "the Triarchy." They have massed on Bloodstone and are presently ridding the Stepstones of its pirate infestation.” He says.
“Well, that sounds suspiciously like good news, Lord Corlys.”
“A man called Craghas Drahar has styled himself the prince-admiral of this Triarchy. They call him "The Crabfeeder" due to his inventive methods of punishing his enemies.”
“And are we meant to weep for dead pirates?” Viseryes asks.
“No, Your Grace.”
“Pray, Your Grace, at Prince Daemon's urging, the crown has invested significant capital in the re-training and re-equipping of his City Watch.” A man says, Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin and Treasurer of Kings Landing. A slickly frail older man with graying hair.
“I thought you might urge your brother to fill his seat on the council and provide an assessment of his progress as commander of the Watch.”
“Do you think Daemon is distracted by his present tasks?” Viseryes asks. “And that his thoughts and energies are occupied?”
“Well, one would hope so, considering the associated costs.”
“Then let us all consider your gold well-invested, Lord Beesbury.”
“I would urge that you not allow this Triarchy much latitude in the Stepstones, Your Grace. If those shipping lanes should fall, it will beggar our ports.” Corlys says, trying to divert attention to the more pressing matter.
“.The crown has heard your report, Lord Corlys, and takes it under advisement.” Says the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, a stout but older gentleman with a strong face, stern eyes and a cold voice. It silences the Master of ships.
“Shall we discuss the Heir's Tournament, Your Grace?” Otto asks, as Viseryes smiles. Rhenerya pours wine for everyone, except Corlys who politely declines.
“I would be delighted. Will the maesters' name day prediction hold, Mellos?” Viserys asks Mellos, Grand Maester.
“You must understand that these things are mere estimations, my King, but we have all been poring over the moon charts, and we feel that our forecast is as accurate as it can be.”
“The cost of the tournament is not negligible. Perhaps we might delay until the child is in hand? Lyman says.
“Ugh, most of the lords and knights are certainly on their way to King's Landing already.” Lyionel strong, Master of Laws says, “To turn them back now—“
“The tourney will take the better part of a week. Before the games are over, my son will be born, and the whole realm will celebrate.”
“We have no way of predicting the sex of the child.” Mellos says.
“Of course, no maester's capable of rendering an opinion free of conditions, are they now? There's a boy in the Queen's belly. I know it. And my heir will soon put all of this damnable hand-wringing to rest himself…” Viseryes says. As the meeting ends, Harrold catches up to Rhenerya, who’s looking a bit, conflicted. Her status as daughter of the king puts her in a position but, no Woman has become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and perhaps she shall be thrown to the wayside.
“..He passed through the Red Keep's gates at first light.” Harrold say to her, and she slowly turns to her.
“..Does my father know he's here?”
“No.”
“..Good.”
————
Night had Fallen upon the Realm, and thus the evil of this world was given a blanket to enjoy.
Thirty men huddle around stolen wine and stolen bread. Armor mismatched. Teeth rotten and broken. Their laughter climbs into the trees and disturbs the night birds. At their center sits Kam, hands like mallets, beard slick with grease. A girl is tied near the wagon, gagged, eyes wide as a hunted doe. Ransom coin already counted in Kam’s mind.
A crack. Not thunder. Not a branch. An arrow. One of the men drops mid-laugh, a feathered shaft blooming from his throat, blood leaked from his mouth mixing with wine to create a disgusting concoction, The wine cup spills. Silence comes in, confused.
Then the woods exhale wind and arrows.
Arrows rain from black branches. Another man falls on the cask, Another. Horses neigh and buck. Someone shouts to form ranks but the command dies as a second volley punches through his leather and bones.
From the trees came riders in dark cloaks, sigils barely visible in the night. They move around, surrounding them and either putting arrows in them or cutting them down.
Like Hawks circling mice.
Kam bellows and charges toward the nearest soldier, splitting a helm with his axe. For a breath, the brute believes the night can still be broken.
Then a shape steps from the firelight.
(Y/n) Hightower.
His cloak catches the flame-glow, the pale green of Oldtown woven into shadow. His blade is clean, though the ground around him is not. One bandit lunges from behind, desperate. (Y/n) does not look. He pivots, catches the man’s wrist before the blade could fully puncture, and draws his dagger across his throat in a single line. The body folds before the scream finishes as blood pours on his plate.
(Y/n) wipes the blade on the fallen man’s sleeve, almost polite about it.
Kam is breathing hard now. The camp that rang with laughter moments ago is a field of groans and stillness. Hightower men move through it like gardeners pruning a diseased hedge.
(Y/n) walks forward and lowers himself onto an overturned crate across from Kam. Close enough that the firelight shows the sharp cut of his jaw, the calm in his eyes.
He studies Kam the way a maester studies an unpleasant specimen.
“You’ve made the road… inconvenient,” (Y/n) says, voice smooth, measured. Not loud. It does not need to be.
Kam swings.
(Y/n) ducks just enough that the axe cleaves air. In the same motion, he kicks the brute’s knee. Bone cracks. Kam drops with a roar, half kneeling.
Steel rests against his throat.
“You stole from smallfolk,” (Y/n) continues, tilting his head slightly. “Kidnapped a child, Raper, Murderer, Brigand..”
He glances toward the girl. One of his men is already cutting her bonds.
“That is poor judgment.” Kam spits at his boots. “Who are you supposed to be? Hightower cunt.”
A faint smile touches (Y/n)’s mouth. Behind him, the Hightower banner rises from the darkness, caught by the wind like a watchful eye opening.
Kam understands then. (Y/n) stands.
“You,” (Y/n) adds softly, almost conversational, “will answer for your accounts.”
The girl stands wrapped in a soldier’s cloak far too large for her. Dirt streaks her face. She looks small again now that the terror has passed.
(Y/n) is cleaning his blade beside the fire, methodical as Kam is dragged away.
She approaches him hesitantly.
“My lord…” Her voice trembles but holds. “Thank you.”
He looks at her.
Not unkindly, Not really warmly either.
“You are unharmed?”
She nods quickly.
“Good.”
A beat.
She waits for something else. A soft word. A reassuring smile. A promise of safety.
Instead, he rises.
“You’ll be returned to your father’s holdfast before midday,” he says, already turning to his captain. “See that she’s provisioned.. Men, any survivors? Cut their throats or put an arrow in their eyes.”
The Next morning had risen, Rhaenyra is laughing at something scandalous with Alicent, sun warm on her hair, when a Hightower soldier approaches with rigid formality.
“My lady Alicent. Ser (Y/n) has returned. Lord Otto requests your presence at the Gate.”
Rhaenyra’s smile sharpens.
“So soon? Has he conquered Dorne already?” She say sarcastically.
Alicent sighs softly. She knows that tone.
“I shall return shortly.”
Rhaenyra watches her go, thoughtful.
⸻
The Gate of the Red Keep
The gates creak open. (Y/n) rides in at the head of his men, armor marked with dried blood and road dust. Behind him, a wagon rattles forward. In it: Stolen grain sacks, many Silver goblets, some Torn banners And Kam the Brute, bound, bruised, furious.
Alicent stands composed at the steps. Hands folded. Expression practiced.
Their eyes meet and (Y/n) dismounts smoothly.
“Sister.”
“Brother.”
Her gaze flicks briefly to the wagon of stolen items. “You’ve been busy.”
“The Kingsroad will be safer.” he says, his eyes then turn to another wagon. Corpses, some, others full of mutilated body parts. Fingers, hands… Cocks.
“I see the City Watch has also been busy..”
Kam chooses that moment to grin through blood.
“So this is the pious little flower? Shame, id love to prick her little petals, give that Hightower Whore a—“
He doesn’t finish.
(Y/n) steps forward calmly, as though adjusting his gauntlet. His elbow drives into Kam’s nose with controlled, brutal precision.
A crack. Kam slumps back with a howl, blood pouring down his beard. (Y/n) does not even look at him afterward.
“Mind your tongue,” he says mildly, “Before you lose it.” He turns to the guards: “Gag him. Let the king make the decision upon hanging him.”
Alicent watches carefully. There’s the faintest tightening in her jaw.
“You needn’t have struck him,” she says quietly once they begin walking.
“He shan’t speak ill of you, I may but not him.” (Y/n) replies. Alicent scowls and he chuckles.
The twins retire to the Bedchamber of Ser Hightower, Books stacked neatly. An Armor stand polished. A map of the Crownlands pinned with markers, as (Y/n) has been cleaning up around Kings Landing.
(Y/n) removes his gloves.
“You look tired,” Alicent observes.
“I am not.” He replies.
“You always say that.”
He pours wine. Offers her some. She declines. (Y/n) stands near the window, goblet in hand, recounting the raid as though narrating a well-played board match.
“They scattered immediately,” he says, the faint smirk returning. “Poor discipline. Thirty men and not one thought to fortify the tree line. Kam was larger than I expected. Slower than I hoped. But he fell nonetheless.”
Alicent moves behind him, fingers deft as she begins unfastening the buckles of his breastplate. She has done this before.
“You make it sound effortless,” she says softly.
“It was.”
The armor loosens. She pulls it away and lays it down and pauses. Beneath the steel, dark patches stain his tunic.
Not all of it is someone else’s blood. She steps around him, lifting the fabric slightly. To see his abdomen, a cut, perhaps a days old.
“You were struck.” She said.
“A glancing cut.”
“You said nothing.”
“It was insignificant, I cut the man down after.” He says and drinks, Her jaw tightens.
“Foolish Endeavors..”
“You sound like Mother.”
The words slip out easy, Alicent always spoke so earnestly. She is the only girl of Otto Hightower. She has to carry some weight.
Alicent meets his eyes in the room.
“Perhaps someone must.”
His smugness drains just a touch. He sighs and can’t look her in the eyes. “I. Apologize for making you worry then. It sounds like You think me reckless,” he says, quieter now,
“Would you prefer me fat and lazing about in Oldtown?” He jokes.
“I prefer you alive.” Alicent replied.
“Thank you.” He says, “And Father?”
———-
“It was an unprecedented roundup of criminals of every ilk.”
Otto Hightower and King Viseryes were walking into the council room. “Your brother made a public show of it, meting out the summary judgments himself. I'm told they needed a two-horse cart to haul away the resulting dismemberments when it was done.”
“Gods be good.”
“The Prince cannot be allowed to act with this kind of unchecked impunity.” Otto said, as the two meet the chamber, with Daemon there.
“Brother.”
“Daemon.” Viserys says.
“Carry on. You were saying something about my impunity.” He asks, and they get right into it.
“You are to explain your doings with the City Watch. Your new "gold cloaks" made quite the impression last night, didn't they?”
“Did they?” Daemon replied with a grin.
“The City Watch is not a sword to be wielded at your whim. They're an extension of the crown.” Otto says.
“The Watch was enforcing the crown's laws.
Wouldn't you agree, Lord Strong?”
“My Prince, I don't think—“ Strong begins but Otto cuts him off.
“Making a public spectacle of wanton brutality is hardly in line with our laws.”
“Nobles from every corner of the realm are right now descending upon King's Landing for my brother's tourney. Do you want them mugged, raped, murdered? You mightn't know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of King's Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying.”
“Our city should be safe for all its people.” Viserys says. “I agree. I just hope you don't have to maim half of my city to achieve this.”
“Time will tell.”
“We installed Prince Daemon as commander to promote law and order. The criminal element should fear the City Watch.” Lord Corlys says.
“Thank you for your support, Lord Corlys.”
“If only the Prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does his work, Your Grace.” Otto says, vying for some level of scorns, “You've not been seen in the Vale or at Runestone for quite some time.”
“I think my bronze bitch is happier for my absence.”
“Lady Rhea is your wife, a good and honorable lady of the Vale.” Otto chastises him, but it does little to sway Daemons opinion.
“In the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women. I can assure you, the sheep are prettier.”
“You made a vow before the Seven to honor your wife in marriage—“
“Well, I'd gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you're in want of a woman to warm your bed. Your own lady wife passed recently.” Daemon says, Otto rose, and silence filled the room. The tension was strong, lingering in the air.
“Perhaps you aren't ready to move on just yet.” Daemon says, stoking the fire even more, but Viseryes calms it.
“You know how my brother makes sport of provoking you. Must you indulge him?”
“My apologies, Your Grace.” Otto say and calmly sits down.
“This council has, at great expense, bettered the City Watch to your exacting standards. Enforce my laws, but understand... any further performances like last night's will be answered.” Viserys says, and Daemon nods and rises.
“Understood, Your Grace.”
———-
The Bedchamber.
Steam coils through the chamber like pale silk. The tub is carved marble, water perfumed faintly with myrrh and rosemary. Candlelight trembles along tiled walls.
(Y/n) reclines in the bath, shoulders bare above the waterline, hair slicked back. Two handmaidens move quietly around him, one pouring warm water from a silver pitcher, another setting folded cloths nearby, both giggle as his eyes lock with one’s.
“One would think,” he muses lazily, “that the treasures of the realm are only for the king. But I have two adorning me at this moment.”
A faint smile touches one of the girls’ lips. But suddenly there is a knock. Before permission is granted, the door opens.
Otto Hightower enters. The handmaidens bow and lower their eyes. He turns his head slightly. “Father,” he says lightly. “You honor me. Care to join? The Revels is quite invigorating this season.”
Otto does not smile. The women glance between them uncertainly. Otto steps forward. “Speak father, you’re scaring the handmaidens, or perhaps—“
“In the council chamber,” he says evenly, “Prince Daemon spoke of your mother.”
The room stills, the hissing steam even halts. The sound of dripping water on the stone floors becomes painfully loud.
“How.”
Otto does not embellish. He recounts it exactly. The crude offer. The reference to her passing. The mockery.
The boys jaw tightens once. Then he speaks, calm and firm.
“Leave us.”
The women bow quickly and slip from the chamber, the door closing with urgency. He rises from the bath without haste. Water runs down his shoulders, hitting stone like soft rain. He steps onto the stone floor and reaches for a linen cloth.
Otto watches him, measuring, beginning to sow his seeds of dissent.
“You did nothing,” he says while drying his arms.
“I did not give him the spectacle he desired.”
(Y/n) pulls on a tunic.
“He insulted her.”
“Yes.” He fastens the ties at his collar, angrily fumbling it.
“And you did nothing.”
Otto’s tone hardens slightly.
“I kept the King’s council from devolving into a senseless spouting match.”
“That was my mother. Not just Lady Hightower. Not just your wife. My mother, Alicent’s..”
Otto absorbs that.
“She is beyond his reach,” Otto replies quietly. “His words cannot touch her. Find peace in that.”
(Y/n) steps closer, eyes colder now.
“They can touch me. And I should gut him for such disrespect to my family, to ours.”
“I presume you would, hence my attempt to inform you, lest he stokes your ire and challenges you, do not.. give him the satisfaction.”
“I will give the Prince more than he bargained for..” (Y/n) said, venom in his voice.
——-
The tourney grounds roar with noise. Lances splinter, banners ripple, nobles gossip behind silk fans. The stands glitter with color and gold. The King rises in his chair, around him are the high council and the children of those, Alicent sits alone, for whatever reason her brother.. is missing. Viseryes stands up and bellows.
“Be welcome! I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games.
But I promise, you will not be disappointed. When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news... that I am happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labors!”
Many cheer at this, Rhenerya slips in unannounced.
“May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!”
The Tournament continues with its Revels, but a lone dark horse catches the eye of the Princess.
“A mystery knight?” She asks Alicent.
“No, a Cole, of the Stormlands.”
“I've never heard of House Cole.” Rhenerya says.
“Lord Stokeworth's daughter is promised to that young Tarly squire.
“Lord Massey's son?”
“They're to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood.”
“Best get on with it.”
“I heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress.”
The First Bracket ends and incoming was th next, many houses trot in and the last, Daemon arrives.
“Master of Revels: Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!”
“For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King!” Otto’s jaw tightens.
Daemon smirks behind his visor. A knight wearing the green and silver of House Hightower rides forward. But before the lances are set, another voice cuts across the arena.
The herald raises a hand. “Correction!” The murmuring grows louder. “The knight wearing the colors of House Hightower is not Ser Gwayne.” Then the proclamation rings out.
“He is Ser (Y/n) Hightower, second son of the Hand!”
The crowd erupts in surprise, Otto looks worried now, Alicent and Rhenerya look at each other and back.
“Five dragons on Daemon.” Someone whispers. But before the two can joust, daemon rubs salt into the wound.
“Nine on the Hightower.”
“Now, I'm fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.” Daemon said, Alicent had little choice but smiled, and placed her garland upon his Lance.
“Good luck, my Prince.” She said, Daemon trots back over, but another came. He rides slowly toward the royal gallery. The crowd quiets. He stops beneath the stand and looks up at the princess.
“Princess.” He says smiling. “If the prince may claim the favor of my sister… perhaps I might ask one of you.” Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, The entire court leans forward.
(Y/n) continues: “Would you grant me yours?”
Now everyone is watching, a scandalous scene. Rhaenyra smiles slightly, clearly amused by the audacity. She unties a ribbon from her sleeve and lets it fall.
“Good Luck, Ser (Y/n)” she said with a smile.
(Y/n) catches it perfectly and He ties it around his lance, Then, with a faint smile: “My thanks, Princess. I shall win in your honor. And for you as well Dear sister.”
He rides back toward the stall.
The riders took their places. The horn sounded. Round one began in a thunder of hooves.
“YA!” The men yell and charge, thunderous hooves dance along the ground as they charge, lances ready. They met in the center of the lists with explosive force. Lances shattered against shield and armor, splinters flying through the air like wooden birds. Both men stayed in the saddle.
The crowd roared in approval. Yet as (Y/n) wheeled his horse around, a dark stain began spreading along his side where Daemon’s lance had slipped beneath the rim of his shield. The wound he suffered has gone to a worse degree.
High above, Alicent noticed immediately. Her fingers tightened around her own hands in anxiety, Otto winces.
⸻
Fresh lances were handed up. The horn sounded again. And Once they charged once more. This time the collision was even more violent, wood exploding into fragments as both riders struck cleanly and were yanked hard. But again, and Again neither man fell.
Another draw.
But as (Y/n) turned his horse, Alicent could see him press an arm briefly against his side.
He was wounded And hiding it. Rhaenyra followed her gaze down to the field. Below, Daemon had noticed as well, The prince smiled as his Prey was weakened.
⸻
The third pass was called. A hush fell across the tourney grounds. Both riders lowered their lances. The horn cried out and they charged.
Tunnel vision hits Daemon and he aims to deliver a killing blow, At the last instant (Y/n) adjusted his aim. His lance struck Daemon square in the chest. The prince was torn from his saddle and slammed into the hard dirt.
The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers as (Y/n) dropped the lance and threw his arm in the air.
But the triumph lasted only a heartbeat.
(Y/n)’s own horse stumbled from the impact.
He fell hard beside the barrier. For a moment the field lay still. Then Daemon rose, ripping off his helm.“Sword!” he barked. A blade was handed to him at once.
(Y/n) pushed himself to his feet, blood staining the edge of his armor. A squire hurried forward with a weapon.
(Y/n) growls, “Axe!” Steel flashed as he lifted it. “It seems the Princes wish to continue in one on one combat!” The Herald bellows.
The crowd roared louder than before. Daemon advanced. Their weapons met with a ringing crack.
Sword against axe.
Again.
Again. Even the king had risen from his seat, but only to leave for something.
(Y/n) shoved the blade away and swung his axe again, but the movement was slower now. Daemon slipped past the strike easily.
The next blow knocked the axe aside. (Y/n) was now on defense, badly. Another strike clipped his shoulder and forced him down to one knee. He was sundered by a powerful uppercut by Daemon. And the Prince of Oldtown fell.
The crowd gasped.
High above the lists, Alicent gasps, and Rheanerya Held her breath, leaning halfway from her seat before she could stop herself.
On the field, Daemon stepped back and raised his sword. He turned toward the stands, spreading his arms wide to soak in the cheers. The crowd roared for him, they always roared for the one of revels.
That moment of triumph lasted only a heartbeat. (Y/n) ripped off his helmet. Before anyone realized what he meant to do, he swung it. Daemon turned but it was too late.
The heavy steel helm crashed into Daemon’s jaw with a brutal crack.
The prince staggered.
The crowd’s roar turned to shocked laughter and shouts.
He struck again. The helmet slammed into Daemon’s shoulder this time, knocking the sword wide. Dirt and splits of blood sprayed as the prince stumbled backward.
The axe was gone. But the helmet was heavy. And he swung it like a mace.
Daemon recovered quickly, ducking the next strike and lunging forward again. Steel flashed between them, sword biting against a dented helm and battered shield. The two men crashed together and tumbled into the blood soaked dirt.
For a moment neither had the advantage.
Then (Y/n) drove his shoulder forward, shoving Daemon onto his back. The prince hit the ground hard. Before he could rise with his dagger, he mounted him, knees pinning his arms. With one hand he seized Daemon’s shield, With the other he raised it high. The edge gleamed, an executioner’s blade. The arena fell silent.
His chest heaved as he looked down at the prince beneath him, ready to Kill. Daemon stared back then, slowly, he smiled.
The Boys arm trembled with the weight of the shield.
“Yield,” he said.
For a long moment Daemon said nothing.
Then, with that same crooked grin still on his lips, he gave the slightest nod.
“I yield.” The tension shattered and the crowd erupted again.
The shield slipped from his grasp. The strength drained from his arms all at once.
He staggered to his feet—and then collapsed into the dirt.
Blood spread darkly beneath him where the lance had torn his side open.
High above the field, Alicent’s hand flew to her mouth.
Rhaenyra leaned back, eyes wide.
Daemon looked down at the fallen Hightower with something almost like admiration, he could cut the boys throat now. But with all these around him, not now.
He chuckled softly to himself.
Then turned away as the healers rushed forward, (Y/n) sat up, still holding it together as he looks to the kings council, looks of somber and sadness was on them, and his eye trail to Rhenerya, who looked to be holding back tears.
What fate was beheld for the Queen and the Heir to be?
————
The wind coming off Blackwater Bay was cold that morning.
Grey clouds rolled slowly across the sky, swallowing the sunlight and casting the cliffs of Dragonstone in a dull, mournful light. Below them the sea churned restlessly against the rocks.
A funeral pyre had been built near the water’s edge.
Upon it lay two bodies wrapped in fine cloth and linen: Queen Aemma and the infant prince who had never drawn breath.
The gathered court stood in quiet rows along the cliff. No music played. No voices carried across the wind. Even the dragons circling the island seemed distant and silent.
At the head of the gathering stood Viseryes, shoulders bent beneath a grief no crown could lighten. Beside him stood his daughter, Rhaenerya, Sorroful and silent, her silver hair stirred by the wind.
Further back among the court stood the Hightowers.
Otto with his usual composure, hands clasped before him. His expression was solemn, though his sharp eyes watched everything.
Beside him stood Alicent and (Y/n)
Her green dress moved softly in the breeze as she kept her gaze fixed on the pyre. Grief weighed on her face, though whether for the queen or the king she could not yet say.
The bandages beneath his tunic pulled painfully with every breath. The maesters had done what they could after the tournament, but the wound from Daemon’s lance still burned like a coal beneath his ribs.
He stood anyway.
That Victory felt strangely hollow now.
He glanced once toward the royal family.
Rhaenyra stood rigid beside her father, her eyes fixed on the pyre with a look that was entirely bloody grief. The warmth of her eyes were fading.
Viserys stepped forward slowly. For a moment the king simply stared at the bodies of his wife and child.
The wind tugged at his cloak. Beside the king, Rhaenyra stepped forward. Her dragon waited with her, wings folded and restless.
Syrax lifted her head as the princess approached.
Rhaenyra rested a hand against the dragon’s neck.
For a long moment she said nothing. Then she spoke a single word in High Valyrian.
“Dracarys.”
The dragon’s jaws opened. Flame burst forth in a roaring torrent, feeding the growing fire of the pyre. The heat washed across the cliffside as the flames rose higher.
Behind the gathered mourners, silence, suffering. The flames climbed higher into the darkening sky.
And somewhere within the crackling fire, the first chapter of grief in King’s Landing began.
————
Otto and Viseryes at night were rerunning to The Council.
“Where's Rhaenyra?” Viseryes asks. But Otto Begins.
“Your Grace. This is the last thing any of us wish to discuss at this dark hour, but I consider the matter urgent.”
“What matter?” Viseryes asks.
“…That of your succession. These recent tragedies have left you without an obvious heir.”
“The King has an heir, my Lord Hand—“
“Despite how difficult this time is, Your Grace, I feel it important the succession be firmly in place for the stability of the realm.”
“The succession is already set... by precedent and by law.” Strong says.
“Shall we say his name?l Corlys says, “Daemon Targaryen.”
“If Daemon were to remain the uncontested heir, it could destabilize the realm.” The Maester adds in.
“The realm? Or this council?” Corlys fires back.
“No one here can know what Daemon would do were he king, but no one can doubt his ambition.” The Master of Coin adds in but Otto is firm.
“Look at what he did with the gold cloaks. The City Watch is fiercely loyal to him. An army two thousand, strong.” He says, and Viseryes finally speaks up.
“An army you gave him, Otto. I named Daemon Master of Laws, but you said he was a tyrant. As Master of Coin, you said he was a spendthrift that would beggar the realm. Putting Daemon in command of the City Watch was your solution!”
“…A half-measure, Your Grace. The truth is, Daemon should be far away from this court.”
“Daemon is my brother. My blood. And he will have his place at my court.” Viseryes says.
“Let him keep his place at court, Your Grace, but if the gods should visit some further tragedy on you, either by design or by accident—“
“Hmm. "Design"? What are you saying? My brother would murder me, take my crown? Are you?! Please. Daemon has ambition, yes, but not for the throne. He lacks the patience for it.”
“The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power, Your Grace.” Otto says.
“Under such circumstances, it would not be an aberration for the King to name a successor.” The Maester
“Well, who else would have a claim?” Strong asks.
“..The King's firstborn child.” Otto admits
“Rhaenyra? A girl? No queen has ever sat the Iron Throne.” Strong scoffs.
“That is only by tradition and precedent, Lord Strong—“
“If order and stability so concerns this council, then perhaps we shouldn't break years of it by naming a girl heir.”
“Daemon would be a second Maegor, or worse. He is impulsive and violent. It is the duty of this council to protect the King and the realm from him. I'm sorry, Your Grace, but that is the truth as I see it, and I know that others here agree.” Otto says.
“I will not be made to choose between my brother and my daughter.”
“You wouldn't have to, Your Grace.” Corlys said, “There are others who would have a claim.”
“Such as your wife, Lord Corlys?” Strong laughs at such a concept.
“Just moments ago, you announced your support for Daemon!”
“If we cannot agree on an heir, then how can we expect—“
“My wife and son are dead!” Viseryes screamed, silence cut though the room and everyone’s breath was held for a moment.
“I will not sit here and suffer crows that come to feast on their corpses!” Viseryes stormed off, and Otto had to set a new plan.
Outside the princess’s chambers stood Ser Harrold, silent like the armor he wore.
Footsteps approached slowly down the hall.
Ser (Y/n) Hightower stopped before him. The knight of the Kingsguard studied him for a moment. His gaze lingered briefly on the faint stain of blood still visible at the side of his tunic. Then Westerling stepped aside.
The door opened quietly. Inside, the chamber was dark save for a few candles burning low beside the bed.
Rhaenerya was near the window, her back to the door. The black sea beyond the world reflected faint moonlight, turning the room into shadows and silver.
She did not turn when he entered. The door closed behind him with a soft sound. For a moment neither of them moved, he didn’t know what to say.
Rhaenyra’s shoulders trembled once. Then again. The sound that followed was small at first. A breath catching itself before the weep. She lifted a hand to her face. The grief she had held through the funeral finally broke.
Tears fell silently as she tried and failed to steady herself. (Y/n) watched her for a moment. Then he crossed the room. He simply placed his arms around her. Rhaenyra turned into him immediately, burying her face against his shoulder as the quiet sobs came harder now.
He held her there. One hand resting gently against the back of her head, the other steady at her back.
The candles flickered softly around them. While he held the woman he loved dearly, Otto was playing a deadly game, as Alicent walked to the Bedchambers of the King.
———
The Next morning rose like an eerie Dawn. And Otto began the meeting a bit, fractured.
“Before we begin, Your Grace, I have a report I feel compelled to share. Last night... Prince Daemon bought out one of the pleasure houses on the Street of Silk... to entertain officers of the City Watch and other friends of his….He toasted Prince Baelon. Styling him "The Heir for a Day."
I corroborated this report with three separate witnesses. The evening was, by all accounts a... celebration.” Otto says, Rhenerya, the Cupbearer also heard this, and it was not good.
Daemon was ordered to meet with the king inside the throne room. Daemon entered, unbeknownst to him, into a viper nest.
“You cut the image of the conqueror, brother.” Daemon begins the interaction friendly.
“Did you say it?” Viseryes say cutting it short, silence fell as Daemon slightly played dumb.
“..I don't know what you mean—“
“You will address me as "Your Grace," or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue…"The Heir for a Day." Did you say it?” He asked once more, Daemon, now caught had little to respond with.
“We must all mourn in our own way, Your Grace.” He said, but Viseryes anger was hot, passionate by the guilt, rage and grief he was feeling.
“My family has just been destroyed. But instead of being by my side, or Rhaenyra's, you chose to celebrate your own rise Laughing with your whores and your lickspittles! You have no allies at court but me! I have only ever defended you! Yet everything I've given you, you've thrown back in my face.” Viseryes says, an Daemon, finally allowed his heart to sing.
“You've only ever tried to send me away. To the Vale, to the City Watch, anywhere but by your side. Ten years you've been king, and yet not once have you asked me to be your Hand!”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I'm your brother. And the blood of the dragon runs thick.”
“Then why do you cut me so deeply?”
“I've only ever spoken the truth. I see Otto Hightower for what he is.
“An unwavering and loyal Hand?”
“A Cunt.” A second son who stands to inherit nothing he doesn't seize for himself.
“Otto Hightower is a more honorable man
than you could ever be.”
“He doesn't protect you. I would.”
“From what?”
“…Yourself. You're weak... Viserys. And that council of leeches knows it. They all prey on you for their own ends.” Daemon says, Viseryes, rather give response, declares a new word.
“I have decided to name a new heir.”
“I'm your heir.”
“Not anymore. You are to return to Runestone and your lady wife at once, and you are to do so without quarrel by order of your King.” With that decree, daemon is left with no choice.
Night falls once more, and Viseryes meets his daughter, who he barely has spoken to, she walks down the stone steps into the crypt, adorned by candles and the massive dragons skull that lay itself upon display.
“Father.” She says.
“Balerion was the last living creature to have seen Old Valyria before the Doom. Its greatness and its flaws. When you look at the dragons, what do you see?”
“What?” Rhenerya asks, “You haven't spoken a word to me since Mother's funeral,
and now you send your Kingsguard down...”
“Answer me. It's important. What do you see?”
“I suppose I see us.” She admits.
“Tell me. Everyone says Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, but they say that because of our dragons. Without them, we're just like everyone else. The idea that we control the dragons... is an illusion.
They're a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us. Targaryen must understand this to be King... or Queen.” He explained, Rhenerya saw the guilt in her fathers eyes.
“I'm sorry, Rhaenyra. I have wasted the years since you were born... wanting for a son. You are the very best of your mother.
And I believe it, I know she did, that you could be a great ruling queen.”
“Daemon is your heir—“
“Daemon was not made to wear the crown. But I believe that you were. This is no trivial gesture, Rhaenyra. A dragon's saddle is one thing, but the Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the realm. There's something else that I need to tell you.” He said, and she took a step closer, Viseryes sighs.
“It might be difficult for you to understand, but you must hear it. Our histories... they tell us that Aegon looked across the Blackwater from Dragonstone, and saw a rich land ripe for the capture. But ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest. It was a dream.
And just as Daenys foresaw the end of Valyria, Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men. 'Tis to begin with a terrible winter gusting out of the distant north. Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds.
And whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living.
When this Great Winter comes, Rhaenyra... all of Westeros must stand against it. And if the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne. A king or queen, strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. Aegon called his dream "The Song of Ice and Fire." This secret... it's been passed from king to heir since Aegon's time. Now you must promise to carry it... and protect it. Promise me this, Rhaenyra. Promise me.”
——-
That promise was kept, and on that day, as many gathered to swear fealty and honor to the King they also acknowledge the Princess and now, Heir. Everyone gathered to kneel. Boratheon, Stark, Lannister, Hightower. Everyone turned to the King for his decree and he spoke as such:
“I, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name... King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, do hereby name...”
“Rhaenyra Targaryen; Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne.”
Superman pulls the top of the hexagonal pod off, the blinding light catches Kara off guard momentarily but, there stood Superman. And Next to him was a man folding his arms, a Green Lantern.
Super: Hi There, :D
Kara: ⟟⍀⟒ ⊬⍜⎍ ⍾⏃⌰-⟒⌰?
(Are you Kal-El?)
(Y/n) looks at Superman.
(Y/n): Well?
Superman: Oh I’m sorry I don’t uh.. heh I don’t speak Kryptonian I never.. shoot I wasn’t raised there so I— I wasn’t raised there—why am I talking louder?
(Y/n): Real Model cousin. She asked are you Kal-El?
Superman: You speak Kryptonian?
(Y/n): The Ring does.
(Y/n) floats a bit closer, extending his hand.
(Y/n): ⟒⌰⌰⍜, ⟟⏁’⌇ ⏚⏃⍀⏃⏃⋔ ⟒⏃⍀⏁⊑ ⏁⍜ ⋔⟒⟒⏁ ⊬⍜⎍..
(Hello, it’s very nice to meet you!)
Kara reluctantly took it, sensing no malice from the Lantern.
(Y/n): ⟁⟒⌰⌰⍜⋔⟒ ⏁⍜ ⟒⏃⍀⏁⊑, ⟟’⋔.. ⏃ ⌰⏃⋏⏁⟒⍀⋏
(Welcome to Earth, I’m a.. lantern?)
Kara looks at him, and then her cousin.
Kara: ⍙⊑⊬ ⟟⌇ ⊑⟒ ⟟⋏ ⊑⟟⌇ ⎍⋏⎅⟒⍀⍙⟒⏃⍀?
(Why is he in his underwear?)
That got a good laugh out of him, Superman looks at them like a golden retriever.
Superman: Did, she say something funny?
(Y/n): Something like that, I think she’s gonna fit in here just fine.
Mantis X Reader, You find yourself alone in Asguard, until—
You did not remember when the garden began. Only that it had always existed within Yggdrasil. The trees stretched endlessly in every direction, their branches woven with threads of gold and silver lines in their roots. Leaves shimmered softly, stirring without wind, as though responding to something within itself. Beneath it all, the ground pulsed with quiet life, steady and eternal.
At the heart of it stood You.
The keeper of life. The god of life itself, You knelt beside a cluster of pale blossoms, their petals still drawn tight, waiting.
For a moment, nothing moved.
You calmly lifted your hand.
The sky answered.
Clouds gathered at your call, slow and gentle, rolling over the canopy like a drifting thought. Rain followed, soft and deliberate, soaking into the soil, feeding root and stem alike. The blossoms bloomed. A faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed your face. And for a while, there was only the sound of rain.
Then—
Thunder.
Immediate.
The canopy split apart with a deafening crack as something tore through the branches above. Wood splintered. Leaves scattered like startled birds. A bolt of lightning struck the earth beyond the grove, shaking the roots of the garden itself. The peace shattered.
You slowly rose up, knowing there was only reason that thunder was even there. At the center of it stood Thor, lightning still dancing faintly around his form, his expression bright with triumph, as though he had arrived at a celebration rather than caused a disruption.
Behind him, others followed.
A living tree stepped forward first, placing a careful hand against one of the garden’s trunks.
“I am Groot,” said Groot softly looking around.
Nearby, a small creature with sharp eyes and quicker hands scanned the surroundings with clear intent to commit robbery.
“There’s no way this place isn’t worth something,” muttered Rocket Raccoon.
Another turned slowly in place, taking in the endless greenery with open curiosity, pressing a button upon his face, his helm dissipates and reveals a face, The Lord of Stars, Starlord.
“Okay,” said Star-Lord, “this is officially the weirdest garden I’ve ever seen.” He says, and finally the last to step out was a being just as offputting as them all, a woman. And then there were the antennae.
They rose softly from her brow, shifting with each subtle change in her expression, reacting not to the world around her… but to what she felt within it.
Curious. Unusual.
Thor spread his arms wide, pride radiating from him.
“Behold!” he declared. “One of the great wonders of Asgard!”
His gaze found You easily, his grin widening.
“My sibling!” The garden had gone still.
Even the rain had ceased. The garden had already been disturbed. Refusing him now would change little.
“You arrive loudly brother,” you said at last, their voice calm, but edged faintly with disapproval.
Thor laughed, entirely unbothered. “As all great arrivals should be!” he declared. “Come, sibling, do not look so grim. I bring allies… and friends.”
Your face drifted past Thor, settling briefly on the others. The living tree was something quite different. You sighed and motioned.
“…You may walk the garden,” You said. “But tread carefully.” Thor beamed, clapping his hands once.
“You see? Hospitality! And perhaps,” he added, leaning in slightly, “you would show them the roots. The great tree itself.” Thor asks, summoning your wooden staff, you began to walk, letting them all follow.
The deeper they walked, the quieter the garden became. The trees moment slowly stills.
Even Star-Lord lowered his voice, though not by much.
“Okay, I’m just saying,” he muttered, glancing around, “this feels like the kind of place where if you touch something, you get cursed for eternity.”
“It’s a place of life, only life. The only curses one can attain is by me, and Only if you are foolish,” You replied calmly.
Star-Lord blinked.
“…Cool. Coolcoolcool.” Ahead, the forest opened into a clearing bathed in soft, luminous light. At its center stood a great tree unlike the others, its bark glowing faintly, its branches heavy with radiant, pulsing fruit. The air itself felt alive.
“This,” You say, “is one of many roots of Yggdrasil.”
Their gaze lifted toward the fruit.
“The Lyffrit tree.” A faint glow pulsed from one of the hanging orbs.
“From it, life energy gathers… and grows.”
For a moment, there was silence. Even Thor seemed to respect it.
“…Huh,” said Rocket Raccoon.
All eyes turned. Rocket squinted up at the glowing fruit, gears clearly turning behind his expression.
“So… hypothetically,” he began, “how much would one of those go for?”
You simply tilted your head—towards Rocket.
Low growls rippled through the clearing.
From the underbrush, from the branches, from shadows that had not been there a moment ago—eyes appeared. Creatures of fur, feather, and something older and wicked watched Rocket carefully.
Slowly, very slowly, he raised his paws.
“Okay,” he said, quick and measured, “that was a joke. Totally a joke. No stealing. No selling. We’re good.”
A beat.
Then—“Wow,” said Star-Lord, folding his arms with a grin. “Your furry brothers don’t like ya huh.” He says and Rocket shot him a glare.
“Oh, like you weren’t thinkin’ it!”
“I was not thinking it out loud,” Star-Lord replied.
Thor burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the trees like rolling thunder.
“Ah! You see, sibling?” he said, gesturing broadly. “They bring life to even the quietest places!”
But for just a moment, Your gaze shifted again—toward Mantis. Laughter and conversation carried faintly through the trees as Thor guided the rest of the group further along the path, his voice still loud, still proud.
But not all of them followed.
Mantis lingered.
She stood near the Lyffrit tree, her gaze fixed not on the glowing fruit… but on You.
For a moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, she stepped closer.
“You are sad,” she said softly.
You did not turn, but heard her clearly.
“No,” you replied, calm as ever. “I am at peace.”
Mantis tilted her head, her antennae giving a faint twitch.
“…Both can be true.”
Only slightly.
“You speak with certainty,” you said. “For one so fleeting.”
“I feel what others feel,” Mantis answered gently. “It is not certainty. It is… experience.”
She hesitated Then reached forward. Her fingers brushed lightly against your hand.
The reaction was immediate, whatever her powers were, could reflect only upon herself. You felt nothing but, life, beaming from her. It’s pure.
Her breath caught.
The world behind her seemed to fall away as something vast unfolded in its place.
Roots stretching endlessly through darkness. Light flowing like veins through the cosmos. Life—constant, growing, unending. And beneath it all…Stillness.
Loneliness.
Mantis staggered slightly, her antennae flickering as she pulled her hand back.
“…Oh,” she whispered.
You watched her carefully.
Mantis looked up at you, something softer in her expression now. Not fear.
Understanding.
“You are connected,” she said. “Not just to this place… but to everything here.”
“My soul is bound to Yggdrasil,” you said. “As it lives, I remain.”
“And you cannot leave,” Mantis said.
It was not a question.
“No.”
A simple word. Painful but true.
“I was born of Odin,” you continued, voice steady. “As were my siblings. Yet while they were given dominion over thunder… mischief… death…I was given stillness.”
“It is not a burden,” you muttered added after a moment. “It is my purpose.”
Mantis stepped closer.
“Purpose does not mean you cannot feel lonely,” she said gently. Mantis hesitated… then smiled, small but sincere.
“Then I will visit you,” she said.
Those words caught you.
“…Visit.” You say to yourself.
“Yes,” she said, nodding once, as if the idea had already taken root. “As often as I can.”
She gestured lightly to the garden around them.
“You cannot leave,” she continued, “but others can come to you.”
Her voice softened.
“I would like to come back.”
“I… would enjoy that.” You replied, Behind them, Star-Lord shouted something indistinct, followed by the sound of Rocket Raccoon arguing loudly. Thor’s laughter rolled through the forest once more.
You gently called to the Tree and allowed a branch to lower itself, taking part of the life fruit. You gently handed it to Mantis.
“Allow the life energy to flow though you, and you will be a friend of the world.” You say, Mantis takes it with kindness and smile, her antenne having a slight jingle of joy.
You were still bound to this world, But the garden no longer felt quite as empty.
End of Issue #1
I’ve been getting cooked in Rivals Ranked so I wrote this after. I hope you guys enjoy and if you want more MRA, let me know and request some. I’ve got a Squirrel Girl one in the Works Rn. So let me know.
She couldn’t believe how she got herself in her current situation - abandoned by her uncle on the Street of Silk.
Rhaenyra was surrounded by people of all sorts. Her mind was racing.
On one hand, there was the fact of the shame this would bring to her family name but also the fact that Daemon had left her feeling pent up and frustrated.
So there she was surrounded by writhing undulating bodies when she felt a set of strong arms grab her.
Rhaenyra gasped only to hear your voice whisper in her ear, “play along”
She turned around to see you - her friend, her protector, her knight standing there. You give her a little wink.
“My word, miss,” you spoke up to any and all who could hear, “you bear quite the resemblance to our crown princess. I take that’s good for business”
Rhaenyra stuttered for a second but then started to play along, “very good. I take it many a man would want time alone with a princess of such fine beauty”
“How much for your time?” You said as part of the ruse.
“I’m not cheap”
“I’m sure you’re worth every gold dragon” you said as you put a bag of coins into her hand.
“Lead the way, my knight” she said with a mischievous smile. But inside, she was relieved that you came to her rescue.
You lead her away from the Street of Silk and to your home. You could’ve taken her back to the castle but there’s no telling who could be following you.
Once inside, you lock the door behind her.
Something about being in a place so personal to you made Rhaenyra feel safe. You quickly served her some tea and wrapped her in a cloak.
She explained her situation and how embarrassed she felt. You explained how the other knights dragged you to the Street of Silk. You’d never buy services there, outside of saving your dearest friend.
Rhaenyra’s heart began to flutter, knowing what you’d do for you. How you’d risk your own name and honor just keep her from being shamed.
In her heart, Rhaenyra didn’t know what or who she would end up being married to. If word did reach her father about what happened, she would ensure you got the praise for saving her.
In that moment Rhaenyra found herself falling for you. Her protector, her knight, the one would always be there for her.
Nevermore Academy has always welcomed monsters — but what happens when one wears a human face? Beneath locked cages and moonlight, something ancient whispers Brock’s his name. And it’s hungry.
“Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil (1886)
I assumed today was any other Wednesday.
It was supposed to be just another lecture on cryptid behavioral patterns. But I could barely hear a word of it.
It was Ms. Thornhills third period class that I had, wasn’t by choice I would have preferred Mr Stiend’s Biology and brewing skills, unfortunately we don’t get what we ask for sometimes.
Every sound — every heartbeat, every breath, every whisper — it clawed at my senses like nails dragging across dreary chalkboard. I heard the Thump of my heartbeat and fingers twitched around my pencil, tapping it against the desk in an uneven rhythm, like my fingers felt as if I had no control, numbness sometimes hits, The noise didn’t help. Nothing did.
The Other was hungry again.
A low, guttural voice rolled through my skull like smoke through a room, flooding my thoughts with this ever grossing feeling of hunger and, rage.
“Feed…”
I squeezed my eyes shut for a split second, trying to shut it out this god damn voice, The voice never shouted — it didn’t have to. It was heavy and cold and impossibly close, like it was behind my eyelids every time I closed my eyes.
“Not now,” I tried to say under his breath.
My Eyes, which from what people said were, dreary and tired, scanned the room for some sense of normality and comfort. And they laid on a girl who looked more worried than me. I think her name is Enid Sinclair.
Wolf, funny enough a social butterfly I think. She’s already gave me an easy time. Most people didn’t, kept their distance as it seemed even I was too weird for Nevermore standards if you could believe it, maybe I was staring too hard at the slight corner of her face, the way it scrunched up when she was thinking, although the thoughts behind that blonde hair, i wouldn’t— or couldn’t— fathom.
My thoughts were pure in my eyes, but, the other one saw it as some hunger or perversion, and he made it very clear
“She looks delicious, doesn’t she?” It said on my head with another round of throbbing pain. I couldn’t yell, scream or make much movement but I clenched my pencil Hard, Harder, HARDER, Until It—
SNAP.
The Pencil in my hand snapped clean in half. Seems I squeezed enough to force the broken tip into the edge of my palm. Blood bled across his palm, sliding down between my fingers like warm candle wax.
“Mr. Brock,” Ms. Thornhill’s voice cut through the dark demented thoughts, light and curious. “Is everything alright?”
I blinked. My mind went blank and i couldn’t fathom a reasonable response, but i was able to horse something out.
“I— yeah. Just… not feeling great,” I said quickly, shoving my bleeding palm into my bag before anyone could see my hand was trembling.
Ms. Thornhill nodded sympathetically and went back to her lesson. Class ended finally and I left in a slight hurry, as walked down the hallway, trying to focus on anything besides the whispering, scratching voice in my skull. The walls felt narrower, the Boards of the doors looming like growing gnawing teeth, and every shadow seemed to flicker with motion.
“Wait!”
I froze. I hear purple sneakers squeaking lightly against the polished floor. And as I turned around I was met with its wearer, Enid. She stopped a few steps away, breathing slightly hard but smiling. “Hey… you’re (Y/n), right? I think we’ve had Biology together?” She said, which rad odd because we just had history, but I guess we share more than one class.
Enid Sinclair was a California Dream to put it nicely, bubbly and over optimistic so much it sometimes actually made me a little sick. Not her fault she had a good personality of course. She was blonde, had these pink highlights and sapphire blue eyes, very pleasant face.
To Consume..
“Stop talking.” I sadly forced a small smile, rubbing the back of my neck. I felt it crawl up my spine a second.” Yeah… that’s me. You’re… Enid?” I tried to sound casual and not like a mentally disassociating cat, but the voice inside hissed: So naive. Too bright. We could play with her… maybe later.
“I like your hair,” Enid said, brushing a strand behind her ear. “It’s… messy, but in a cool way. You look like you don’t care, but you probably do.” She grinned, and Honestly, at that moment I felt a twinge of something like normalcy. Which is a lot considering where I am.
I cleared my throat. “Uh… thanks. I… try.”
“You’re… quiet,” Enid said, tilting her head. “Not in a bad way like my Roomate.”
Wednesday.
I remembered that name from the rumors and Ajax’s weird discussions about it, but then again he was probably stoned. “Yeah, her names, Wednesday right?” I said, “I mean if the standards are that low, it’s a bar I can just walker over.” I said as a joke, didn’t know if it would even land but I just had to try. I was groaning silently in my head.
Enid actually laughed —lightly, a soft, musical sound that seemed out of place in the harsh hallway lights. “Well… it’s kind of nice. Not everyone listens so…” She said, a slight drone on. Admittedly I was enjoying myself but, it couldn’t last long and I had to end it.
“I… need to get to my next class,” I said finally, forcing a polite smile. “See you around?” I asked, hoping, Praying for a reply.
Enid nodded, a little disappointed but still smiling. “Yeah. See you around.”
I watched her walk to class and it felt, good. Normal perhaps, but unfortunately tonight was the least normal night I’ve had in the past four months of being here.
I clenched my bloody fist and tried not to think about it. Not now, not tonight.
The moon was a pale coin above Nevermore, silver light slipping through the cracks of the iron bars. The Lupin cages were built During Nevermores spring youth, built strong enough to handle the outbursts of werewolves, Weems made it a good idea to let me stay you’re for certain nights, praying the cage would hold, it.
I sat cross-legged in the center, knees trembling. My breath came slow — measured. I’d been here for hours, trying to meditate, to keep it down, to sleep.
It’s just noise, I told myself. Just another night. You’re in control.
You are lying to yourself.
The voice slithered through the back of my mind.
You brought us here to starve. We don’t like starving.
We’re not doing this tonight. I gritted my teeth, pressing my palms into the cold stone floor. You’ll hurt someone.
They deserve it. All of them. Especially the ones who stare.
I shut my eyes, forcing my breathing to steady. The sound of my pulse pounded louder than the wind.
And then — footsteps.
The faint click of polished shoes against stone. A shadow shifted beyond the bars.
“Brock,” came a voice. Flat. Calm. Inescapably curious.
My eyes snapped open. And I saw her, her visage was pale like the moon, black braids hang behind her head and her dark eyes met mine, Wednesday. She stood in front of the cage door, candlelight painting her face in flickers of gold and black. Her hands clasped behind her back, expression unreadable.
“I was told this area was off limits.” Her gaze flicked to the chains near the wall, I don’t use them unless it’s an emergency “That usually means it’s worth investigating.”
“Bad idea,” I muttered, standing slowly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “On the contrary. I think I’m exactly where I need to be.”
We like her.
Shut up.
She’s small. But her eyes— they don’t flinch. Maybe we should eat them last.
“I said shut up!” I said out loud on accident, Wednesday tilted her head slightly, obviously confused on just who I was talking to.
My head throbbed. The candlelight wavered. I staggered forward and gripped the bars.
“Wednesday,” I said through clenched teeth, “you need to go. Now.”
“Why?” she asked, voice cool as ice. “Because your inner demons might escape?”
“What?” It was the only phrase I could make out.
“Rowan, you killed him, the question is why..”
I remembered hearing about it but I didn’t know anything about it but, maybe I lied to hope she would leave me alone,. “I didn’t see anything. I just… heard screaming.”
“Lies bore me,” Wednesday said, folding her hands behind her back. “What did you see?”
“I didn’t see anything!” I yelled, and that throbbing pain hit my spine and I slumped down, the pain began to physically burn though my body. Wave of unbearable skin tearing pain. As I slowly began to lose it, I look up and.. saw myself standing there, smiling.
The double smiled wider, leaning close until its mouth brushed my ear.
“Knock knock… let the devil in.”
Something snapped.
Wednesday watched, A black vein spiderwebbed across his neck. His eyes rolled back. The chains rattled violently as the air thickened with a low, animal growl.
Tendrils burst from his back — slick and serpentine — slamming against the cage bars. His reflection dissolved into darkness that rushed toward him, flooding his body, pouring into his mouth, his eyes, his skin.
He screamed — but the sound twisted mid-breath, deepening into a snarl that didn’t belong to him.
When the moonlight cleared the haze, a hulking figure crouched where the boy had been. Breathing heavy. Shoulders rising like a storm. A grin stretched across its dripping, inky face.
“What… are you?” Wednesday asked, and the voice, wasn’t him.
“You? No… We…“We are…” the creature rumbled. Its jaw split too wide, fangs gleaming like wet glass.
“…VENOM.”
The monster breathed. Steam rolled from its chest as it straightened, towering over the girl who stood on the other side of the bars.
Venom’s eyes — twin pools of shifting white ink — locked onto Wednesday Addams. She didn’t move. She didn’t scream. The candlelight near the wall weakly in the draft.
The creature tilted its head.
“Fascinating,” Wednesday whispered.
A deep, guttural chuckle rattled through the chamber. Venom stepped forward, taloned fingers wrapping around the metal bars.
CREEEEAK.
Steel groaned beneath the pressure. The silver bent like clay as Venom’s muscles flexed, dark fluid rippling across its form. Each pull sent sparks of friction and screeches echoing down the corridor.
Wednesday realized that this, is death. If this monsters maw got a hold of her she’d be with Rowan soon. The creature’s jaw split open, dripping black saliva that hissed as it hit the floor.
“We… are… hungry.”
Venom tore one of the bars clean off. The cage shook. Another bar followed, clattering to the ground. The gap widened, the monster leaning through — claws reaching, close enough for Wednesday to feel its breath.
And then—
BEEEEEEEEEEP—
The siren blared.
The sound tore through the air, sharp and metallic, vibrating through bone and iron alike. Venom shrieked — a sound more animal than human — recoiling instantly. The symbiote rippled like boiling oil, its form breaking apart, peeling back into smoke and shadow that clawed at the air before sinking beneath Back under his skin.
He collapsed to his knees. Half of his face still black, tendrils twitching as they receded under his eye and back into his mouth, His breaths came out ragged, eyes unfocused.
“(Y/n)!”
Principal Weems appeared in the doorway, her expression flickering from authority to heartbreak in seconds. She knelt by the cage, pressing a hand to the silver blend of steel that once held many wolves at bay
The boys eyes fluttered open for a moment — long enough to see her face.
“I’m sorry, Mr Brock.” She whispered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
His vision blurred. The world tilted sideways. The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was Weems turning sharply toward Wednesday, her voice like a whip.
“Back to your room, Miss Addams. Now.”
Wednesday didn’t move.
“I said now,” Weems snapped, standing tall. “I will not tolerate you torturing him like one of your little experiments.”
For the first time that night, Wednesday hesitated — eyes flicking to the unconscious boy inside the cage — then turned silently, the echo of her footsteps fading into the dark stone, it seems that they will have to discuss this once more.
Venom.
The name clung to her mind like a stain.
She had seen monsters before — the self-righteous, the delusional, the pathetic. People who wore masks of civility over their harrowing true forms. But this… this was different.
(Y/n) Brock was not a boy wearing a monster. He was a boy sharing his skin with one. And when the creature had looked at her — when those eyes like pools of ink had focused on her without blinking — something had stirred in her mind
Recognition.
For a brief moment, she thought of all the hours she’d spent yearning for something truly otherworldly — something that wasn’t bound by the tedium of morality or the dullness of normal human fear or normality.
Now, she had found it.
Or perhaps, it had found her.
Wednesday’s lips curled faintly as she reached her dormitory door.
Perhaps I’ve finally met Death, she thought. And for once, Death has manners, and had delivered it to her, it seems now she’s found a monster, her monster.
Bitterly Beautiful II Finale: “Eye Love You, Wednesday Addams.”
Wednesday Addams X Male Reader
All Good Things Must Come to a harrowing end, wouldn’t you agree? The conclusion to the dark finale
“William Faulkner said, "The past is never dead. "It's not even the past." In fact, it's all still happening. If Isaac's goal is to save his sister, why kidnap (Y/n)? What does a brain-eating genius need with my Somehow Genius but half-wit Partner?”
“Any idea why someone would kidnap him?”
Office Santiago was inside the main office, with the Addams. Morticia and Gomez were obviously upset, Pugsley couldn’t force himself to look at Wednesday.
“It's a total mystery, Sheriff.” Gomez says.
“Could this be some kind of revenge?” She replies, which Raised the ire of Morticia.
“Are you blaming us for his kidnapping?” She said, Santiago simply shook her head.
“The search parties will run through the night. Parents who were at the gala have already left with their kids. All other students will be packed up and on their way home by tomorrow afternoon. Unfortunately his guardians across the world so, a message has been sent. It seems you’re the closest to Family he has..” she explained and left.
As the family departs Morticia caught up with Wednesday.
“I sent your father and Lurch out to join the search parties.” She said, but Wednesday wasn’t having it.
“They won't find him. Isaac's too smart.” She said, and Weems approached, looking at both of them.
“You need to work together, and to pool your psychic abilities to locate him.” Weems said.
“My mother is a Dove who's blind to malevolence, and my psychic ability is currently on an unauthorized leave of absence.” Wednesday fired back, and Weems approached it, differently.
“That's why you must turn to the other Raven in your family.” She said, and Wednesday turned to her Mother, knowing what she means.
Morticia and Wednesday met up with Grandmama, who was less than interested about helping them. The trio sit inside the cottage at the circular table, mortica at center, Hester on one end and Wednesday at the other.
“Mama, I appreciate you coming back on such short notice.” Morticia said, but Hester rolls her eyes.
“Why would anyone bother kidnapping Him? Granted those eyes could level a forest into a fine graveyard, if they wanted that, just gouge the boys eyes out.” She said, and gets a glare from Wednesday.
“His kidnapper isn't looking for ransom money. He's being used as a pawn to keep us away, or a ploy to draw us in.” Wednesday said, and Hester chuckled.
“So many delightful memories of this room.
I can still hear the terrified shrieks of my classmates during Rotwood's Advanced Possession Class. Scaredy-cats.” She said, mortica extends her hands and Hester took one, her eyes turn to Wednesday.
“This does require actual physical connection.” She spoke, and Wednesday reluctantly took her mother’s hand.
“Now we must clear our minds of all past grievances.” Morticia began, and Hester grumbled.
“My past grievances are like fine wine. They get better with age.” Hester said, “Likewise.” Wednesday chimed in. Morticia decided to ignore that and simply concentrate.
“Doves and Ravens together ignite With wings of darkness and piercing eyes Guide us to truth through night and morn To this let our powers be sworn—“
“I didn't drive all this way to hold hands in the dark. How long do we have to keep this up?”
“Mama! For once just be quiet. We're trying to find (Y/n).” Morticia said, and halted.
“I feel something.”
“I feel it too.”
“Do you sense it, Wednesday?” Morticia asked, and a sudden shock of light catches Wednesday as a vision finally came before her. It was long ago, her Mother and Father, former Nevermore students burying a body. Under the same tree Issac was buried.
“Hurry, Gomez!”
“No one will ever know we were here.”
Those haunting voices cascaded into her mind and she snapped back into reality.
“I saw you and Father burying Isaac under the Skull Tree back when you were students. If there was ever a time to unburden yourself of the truth, now is it.” Wednesday said to her mother. She didn’t seem Keen on answering but Wednesday spoke up.
“Your hesitation and weakness is wasting more time, Every moment you keep silent is another moment he suffers. Your stubbornness is wasting time I don’t have to lose.” She said, Morticias face twisted and she sighs, and begins to speak.
“The night of Isaac's accident, your father and I were at his laboratory in Iago Tower. Isaac was certain his machine would permanently cure Francoise. That she would never again live in fear of turning into a Hyde. But the machine required a great amount of energy to power it. And for that, Isaac turned to his best friend.”
“…Father.” Wednesday said.
“What could Gomez have possibly contributed?” Hester asks.
“Back then, Gomez was just as electrifying as Pugsley. And Gomez was more than happy to help his friend. But Isaac tricked him. He needed more than a spark. Unbeknownst to Francoise, Isaac was willing to sacrifice your father's life to save hers. He even dug your father's grave under the Skull Tree in preparation. By the time I arrived, my darling Gomez was close to death. My sabotage sent the machine into a frenzy. Francoise, she survived the explosion, but Isaac didn't. And as for your father, the experience permanently robbed him of his Outcast ability…” Morticia explained, Hester and Wednesday were surprised by all of this, the truth.
“Why cover it up?” Wednesday asked. “Because Augustus Stonehurst threatened us! We knew he built Isaac the lab in secret.!If we breathed a word, he would've turned us in for murder…”
“So you buried Isaac in the same grave he intended for Father?”
“Yes. Isaac must be trying again. This time using (Y/n) as the power source, his eyes are a portal to infinite power..”
“But That Addams headstone, the one I saw in my premonition, it said one of us dies. He’s not an Addams.”
“Tell me, my raven. Do you love him?” She asked.
Wednesday freezes. Her mouth opens slightly, then closes. She turns her gaze aside, jaw tightening. For the first time in a long time, her words fail her.
“I…“
Morticia glides closer, her hand brushing against Wednesday’s cheek with maternal tenderness. Wednesday doesn’t flinch — for once, she doesn’t resist.
Then it is time you came to your own conclusions. As far as I am concerned, (Y/n) is already one of us. He is family. A stalwart, valiant soul who would bleed for you without hesitation. A lover so devoted he makes even your father proud, a famous man once said that if a man has not found something he is willing to die for, he is not fit to live. He knows this, and still is beside you to the very end, it seems you have given him something he couldn’t give himself.” Morticia said, Wednesday couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes until she had to speak.
“What could I have given him?”
“Something to live for…” Morticia replied, but her eyes are a bit sullen. “I think it's best that you, Pugsley and Thing go with Grandmama until he is found.”
“For once, your mother and I are in agreement.” Grandmama chimed in.
“These are our sins, Wednesday.”
We will face them, and we will bring him back, he shouldn’t suffer for our choices..” Morticia said.
———
(Y/n) sits bound to a wooden chair, wrists lashed tight, and a thick leather strap forcing his eyes closed. He tilts his head slightly, listening. In the distance, Issac’s voice drones on about the machine, about power, about stripping the outcasts of what makes them… themselves. He couldn’t tell where he was, but it smelled.
“You think this is gonna stop Wednesday or me? Cute?” He said. Issac slowly turned his attention to (Y/n). “And yet, here you are. Bound. Helpless. You’ll fuel my machine, whether you spit venom or not. Do you want your last words wasted on defiance?”
(Y/n) scoffs, “Listen carefully, because I’ll only say this once. If you lay your necrotic hands on Wednesday, I’ll feed you your own heart.“
Issac stills, the cruel smile faltering for just a moment. Until a hard punch to the nose knocks (Y/n) hard, blood drips as he coughs. Issac walks over to a board. It has photos of Tyler with his dad, better times it seems, before all of this, before the nightmare.
“I wish I was at least in one of these pictures.” Francious said, Issac approached.
“I never understood your desire for a Normie life. But... knowing what Stonehurst did to you in that lab... Neither of us got the end that we deserved, but That changes tonight.” He said, and she looked at him.
“Promise me, no matter what happens, you'll do it. What we discussed. I need your word…” silence was the signal for something. Suddenly Tyler made his return.
“I made Hyde tracks about 20 miles north and dropped part of his costume, then made an anonymous tip like you said.”
“Good, huh?”
“That'll keep the cops off our trail. Now, it's time to position your old flame onto the board.”
“Wednesday will know she's being played.”
“Definitely smarter than all of you.” (Y/n) chimed in. “Cover his ears next time.” Issac said with venom.
————-
Wednesday, Agnes and Enid look over the slowly thinning crowd of Nevermore students. “Is (Y/n) okay?” Enid asks, so much worry in her voice.
“Still missing. But he's alive..” Wednesday said, she could see the worry on her face. “(Y/n)’s fine, it would take more than a zombie and two Hyde’s to kill him. Isaac is hellbent on saving his sister. I know he needs (Y/n). Just need to figure out when and where.”
“Crap. He's here.” Agnes said, which sent alarm bells in Enid’s brain.
“Who? Isaac?”
“No. My dad.” Agnes said, and looks more invisible emotionally than physically.
“He usually sends some rando assistant to collect me.”
“Your mom couldn't come get you?” Enid asked.
“She's busy with her new Normie husband and baby, I was the mistake that kept her and my dad together long past their sell-by date.”
“Gunpowder, penicillin, the rack. Those were all mistakes.” Wednesday said.
“I just want to say that I love us. We're like the three musketeers.” Agnes smiled, Wednesday gave a side eye.
“Careful…” she said, as that third slots still taken, and still very much alive.
“Agnes!” Someone called out to the girl and she shifts uncontrollably.
“Bye. See you next year.” Agnes leaves and Enid turned to Wednesday.
“I wish I could help, but I have to get to the Lupin cages. Capri read me the riot act. Lock in early and stay calm. So I have my meditation app, my fave playlist, and an extra supply of colloidal silver.” Enid says, and Wednesday looked her up and down only for an instant. “It’s fine, besides (Y/n) would rather you take care of yourself than risk saving him, and I know he’d never forgive me if I made you come with me.”
“That sounds like him.” Enid gave a sad smile. “When you two come back, you’ll let me out, right?” Enid said. “We will be there first thing in the morning to let you out.” Wednesday gave Enid that sense of reassurance, and left, bumbling into Officer Santiago.
“Wednesday, I'm on my way to see your parents. A hiker found part of his costume. I'm redeploying the search from Jericho to Burlington.”
“Sounds like a ploy to draw you off the scent.”
“I follow evidence, not hunches.” She said, which would be a foolish endeavor. Wednesday watched him leave and turns back to The Office, which has Weems sitting at her Desk.
“Finally, I get my office back. Dort's crashing downfall has validated my legacy. The board will now look back upon the Weems era with fondness. Nevermore clearly needs a steady hand on the rudder. A leader of impeccable moral character!” Weems said.
“..You covered up Rowan's murder and the existence of a Hyde.” Wednesday said very flatly, Weems just pushed it away.
“Mistakes were made. But that's all in the past, oh.. here comes your brother.” She says as Pugsley is standing nervously before her, clutching a small wooden box with both hands.
“He… he gave it to me. Said if I didn’t deliver it straight to you… if I told anyone else… he’d kill (Y/n). I didn’t know what to do, Wednesday…”
Wednesday reaches out, her pale hand hovering over the box for a moment before she takes it. The air feels heavier instantly, as if the object itself carries a curse. She slowly lifts the lid.
Inside were glasses, the signature black, round lenses that (Y/n) wears, now shattered and streaked with dried blood. The metal is bent, twisted like it had been torn from his face.
Wednesday’s gaze narrows, but her fingers tremble slightly as she lifts the cracked frames. Beneath them lies something worse:
A smeared, crimson scrawl across the bottom of the box. Not ink. Not paint. Blood. His blood.
It reads:
“My grave, tonight.”
“Go back to mother. Now!” Wednesday said. It seems that now is her chance.
The moon is veiled by a thick quilt of clouds. Wind hisses through the treeline, and there — shadows emerge. Wednesday waits, her posture straight as stone, her black boots blending into the gloom. “Isaac thinks he can lure me out to finish me off.” She thinks.
Near some trees, Thing is ready to take a shot with a crossbow. Wednesday already has this planned. Out of the woods, Issac steps, a cruel smile pulling at his lips.
Beside him, (Y/n) stumbles forward, shackled at the wrists, a thick leather strap across his eyes. His usually stern posture is gone, his body sluggish and trembling. Issac jerks a chain tethered to his restraints, leading him like a broken animal.
Amazing, isn’t it, what a little cocktail of chemistry can do? Bit of Xylazine in the bloodstream and Turns your feral little friend into a tame gelding. Horse tranquilizers — a marvel of modern science against people stronger than you.”
He tugs the chain again, and (Y/n) stumbles to his knees, coughing. His lips move, but only a hoarse murmur escapes. He can’t summon his usual jokes or quips, his raspy breath was the only sound he was alive. Wednesday stared, an uncouth rage building.
“Tyler warned me you were formidable. And now I've witnessed the havoc you can wreak.” Issac jokes, Wednesday holds her composure.
“Give me my… Boyfriend, crawl back into your hole, and stay dead this time. I know what you did to my father.” Wednesday said, but Issac fired with rage.
“Yet I'm the one who died! Thanks to him and your dear mother. Why don't you let your bitter half pay for their mistakes, and we'll call it even? Your meddlesome lover parents were my downfall, so it’s only fair I take your heart.”
“You don't have the machine. Willow Hill and Iago Tower have been destroyed. It would take months to rebuild. By the time you did, it'd be too late to save your sister.” Wednesday said, and thing had the shoot and took it. Issac predicted it and lifted his “hand” up. Which caught the bolt, and Tyler was also there, snagging Thing
“I... I applaud the effort. You keep me talking while your faithful right hand takes his shot.” Issac laughs, and Wednesday is forced to watch as Tyler drags things over and Issac removes his glove, showing his bare wrist.
“Except he's never been yours. He's mine.
Turns out your parents didn't kill all of me that night.
ISSAC NIGHT
NIGHT, replace a few letters
THING!
Wednesday stared at him deadpan.
“Cute…”
“L…lame..” (Y/n) was able to mutter that single word.
“Imagine my surprise when I saw my right hand wandering the halls of Willow Hill without me. And a DaVinci... is nothing without his right hand. Your mother cut it off. Causing my machine to go out of control and explode. The power surge must have somehow animated my hand.”
“In your case, the part is greater than the whole.” Wednesday fired, but could only watch as the switches from thing slowly unravel and attack themselves to Issac, as thing, dissipates into the mind of madness.
“Now I am complete. The Addams family ends tonight. Starting with you.” Issac uses his power, a sense of force yanked Wednesday by the neck, lifting her up. The hole that Issac crawled out of opens back up and Issac hurls Wednesday inside, and buries her alive. The roots succumb around her and finally, it seems all is well for the Galpin family.
“We have an appointment at Iago Tower.” Issac leaves and Tyler follows, leaving Wednesday buried alive and (Y/n) dragged off to meet his maker. Little did they know, Agnes was watching, she rushed off into the dark back to Nevermore as there was only one more person who could save them.
Agnes rushes into the Lupin cages, Enid is there, still trying to calm down. But the time for calm has faded.
“Enid! I need you.” Agnes called out, the sound was barely enough for Enid to hear and she turned, her eyes went wide at Agnes and she quickly removed her headphones.
“Agnes? I thought you left.”
“I couldn't abandon Wednesday. So I ditched my dad when he stopped for gas. Isaac buried Wednesday under the Skull Tree. And I can't dig her out.”
“What? Oh my God. Where's Thing?”
“Longer story. I'll fill you in on the way. We haven't got much time!”
Agnes and Enid rush to the scene, the moonlight slowly peering past the clouds as the two are desperately clawing at the dirt to save Wednesday.
“Wednesday, we're here! Hang on!” Enid plants her ear on the dirt.
“I hear a heartbeat, but it's weak. We aren't gonna get to her in time.” Enid said, and looks at her hands. And had one chest, her nails began to grow and Agnes looked at her.
“…You won't be able to turn back. You're an Alpha.” She said, but there was no other choice, Enid closed her eyes.
“I can't let them die…” she said, and Agnes watched as Enid transformed, perhaps once and for all. The massive blonde wolf tore though the dirt and dug Wednesday up who stayed in her coffin like pose.
“Wednesday, wake up. Wake up! Please. Please.” Agnes pleaded, silence came, until Wednesday’s cold, dead eyes open.
“I enjoyed that…” she said, her eyes went left to see the werewolf before her.
“…Enid?”
“..It was the only way to save you.” Agnes admits, Enid snarled and ran off into the forest. Wednesday ever the quick witted turns to Agnes.
“Go track her. Now!” She gave the order, Agnes follows suit.
————
“It's all still here. Good.”
(Y/n) was yanked to Iago tower and tossed into the ground, Issac looks around at all of his old equipment in shambles.
“How are we gonna put this junk back together?” Tyler asked
“We're not. I am.” Issac flexes his new hand, power echoes from it and the knocked over and tossed machinery begins to move on its own, slowly but surely coming back to its original form.
“Secure the power source.” Issac said, and Tyler did as ordered, strapping the slowly recovering (Y/n) to the same chair he did Gomez, roughly slammed the helmet on his head.
“I've been waiting for this moment for 30 years.” Issac said, and Tyler tightens the bonds on his wrist
“We're about to fry your battery.” Tyler said, and Issac’s plan was about to unfold, he looks at his sister and did as asked, Tyler’s body was suddenly yanked and slammed upon the table, his arms and legs were strapped down and now Tyler was the focus of the project.
“Wait! What are you doing? Mom, we're here to save you.” He said, “It's too late for me, sweetie. This is your time now. We can save you from this life.nGive you a fresh start.” She replied.
“No, no, you have no right to take my power from me!” He yelled, but Issac didn’t care He throws a lever. Instantly, (Y/n) body jerks. Light bursts from his eyes in violent, ragged beams, as it tears under his eyelids until the leather breaks, His scream rips through the tower, guttural and raw. The beams bend, focus, then the power it’s producing lurches outward—into Tyler, chained to the opposite end of the device.
Tyler convulses, his Hyde form ripping in and out of existence like a stuttering flame. The machine shrieks louder.
(Y/n) thrashes against the straps, teeth clenched, his skin blistering where the restraints sear him. His voice is hoarse but defiant.
“Wed…nes…stay…” his voice was desperately calling for any sense of safety, perhaps it was his last dying words, the only thing that fueled him was drive. And in a last ditch effort turned his eyes and blasted whatever was in his path, which was Tyler’s mother. In a flash of light, a tearing of heat and energy the blast hit her and knocked over another machine. But it was still sapping what life he had dry. Issac grinned, his plan finally working and now it seemed fate is on his side, until a bolt of lightning strikes him, sizzles and knocks him into the wall. (Y/n) was slowly losing it all until Foosteos echo and a painf of hands grip his, Pugsley.
“(Y/n)!” He called out as he undoes his straps. “You have to try and close your eyes!”
Just as this Happens Wednesday took the chance She leaps from the catwalk, landing near the console. Her eyes scan it—dials, levers, gauges screaming in the red. There’s only one option.
She seizes the axe leaning against a tool chest. With one sharp swing, she buries the axe in the heart of the console. A horrific CRACK of shattering glass. The console erupts—splitting into shards that fling outward like knives. A shockwave explodes through the barn, white light engulfing everything. The smoke finally began to settle, it seems Gomez, Morticia and Pugsley came to help. The Addams family in force to save their own.
One one side was (Y/n) in ground, unresponsive, and On the other side, Tyler, who seems to have finally.. perished.
Wednesday barely recovered as Issac used his telepathy to choke Wednesday, the ringing in her ears slowly fading.
“Because of you, I lost the only person I ever truly loved.”
“It's over. Let my daughter go.” Gomez pleaded with
“Sorry, old friend. Now you two will know what real pain feels like.nOne more step, and I snap her neck!” He said, but it seems he forgot the last member of the Addams Family. Issac felt a tap of a hand and he turned.
In a blur, a thunderous right hook slams into Issac’s jaw. The crunch echoes like a thunderclap, sending Issac sprawling back. Before Issac can recover, (Y/n) is on him—an animal, all pain and rage unleashed. He slams him against a wall and cocks his fist back. And puches, but he goes for the Heart.
He digs his fingers into Issac’s chest. Metal shrieks. Sparks fly. With a sickening rip, he tears the mechanical heart—still pumping, glowing faintly—from Issac’s ribcage.
Issac gurgles, his body convulsing in horror, and stumbled for a moment.
“Remember what I said?”
(Y/n) with little hesitation shoves the heart into his mouth. Tearing what flesh he had left with the metal gears of his very beating life. Issac’s eyes bulge as he thrashes, gagging on the very thing that kept him alive.
Wednesday watched the Horror show and the uncanny smile that crept along her lips was iconic, Issac screamed His body spasms violently—then collapses in the ground. Lifeless. The metal heart clatters from his mouth, still faintly twitching.
(Y/n) stood over him, swaying, covered in ash, blood, and machine oil. His breathing is ragged, his fists trembling, until it all finally hit him. And he collapsed onto the floor.
————
“What have you been able to figure out?”
Wednesday stood across Agnes as she showed her photos, night vision of, something..
“This was on a wildlife cam this morning.”
“That's Enid.” Wednesday said.
“She was heading north, just five miles from the Canadian border.”
“What about Capri? Was she able to provide intel that could tell us where Enid is going?”
“She's MIA. Probably on the hunt for her next job, now that Nevermore is nevermore…” Agnes said, and her eyes trail to Wednesday. “And (Y/n)?” She asked, Wednesday didn’t answer, she simply walked off, Agnes followed her tracks and saw she was heading to a corner, and someone waiting.
(Y/n) is sitting on an old stone bench near the courtyard, his posture unusually calm. His new glasses catch the sunlight, square and darker than his last pair. He turns his head slightly as Wednesday approaches, almost as if he sensed her before he heard her.
“You know, most people would bring flowers or soup. You’re just staring at me expecting me to die or something, Very on brand.”
“Your survival is miracle enough. I won’t cheapen it with pleasantries.”
He chuckles, a tired sound, but genuine. For a long moment, they sit in companionable silence, listening to the faint rustle of trees.
“So, I should uh.. tell you what the nurse said but, it’s better if you do.”
“What?” Wednesday asked, he turned his head to face her, “Please.. if you trust me, take my glasses off.” He asked, Wednesday turns her head, watching him carefully. He adjusts his glasses and, after a beat, Wednesday reached and slowly removes them. He slowly opens his eyes, and His eyes are pale pewter grey—lifeless, like stone polished too smooth. Hollow, but still undeniably his. Wednesday doesn’t flinch, though her gaze lingers on his eyes. It wasn’t until she saw his eyes lock with hers.
“Yeah, Machine sapped my powers, doctors don’t know how long or even if it can come back.” He says, not the worst part.” He said.
“No color, it’s just.. black, white and.. million shades of grey.” He admits, from his perspective the clouds are always grey, the sky never blue. The golden sun now an endless end of white. He looks at his hands, no skin color just, grey.
“Monochromacy. Damage to the cone cells or neural pathways. Your vision has been reduced to black, white, and shades between.” Wednesday explained.
“Trust you to turn my tragedy into a science lecture.” He leans back against the bench, forcing a half-smile, though his voice cracks just slightly.
“I suppose my ‘usefulness’ is gone… do you still care for me?“ he asked, almost a bit worried.
The silence hangs heavy. He almost regrets asking, the words feeling pitiful the moment they leave his lips. Wednesday, seated with arms crossed, stares at him. Her face remains unreadable, but her voice cuts with her usual icy precision.
“You’re an imbecile. Do you honestly think I’m so shallow that my affection hinges on whether or not you can incinerate things with your eyes? If that were true, I’d have kept a flamethrower by my side instead of you.”
“Well.. I mean—“
Wednesday leans closer, her tone colder, sharper — and yet, beneath it, there’s something fragile.
“I…I care for you, (Y/n). Not because of your abilities. Not because of what you can do. I care for you because you are intolerably stubborn, endlessly irritating, and, somehow, despite all of that, you’re mine. That has not changed. It will not change. You are more than adequate partner, (Y/n). I may lack experience in such matters, true, and my standards are… unusually severe. You are not one in a million. You are one in infinity.” She said. A warm chuckle came from (Y/n) and he looked at her, truly.
“I love you, Wednesday Addams.” He said, and Wednesday understood what her mother finally meant.
“And, I love you, (Y/n) Healy.” She said in response, he looked back at the sky.
“So, Enid’s where now?”
“Nearing the Canadian Border.”
“Well, guess I’m not going home, I'm always up for a road trip.” He says.
“In what vehicle?” She asked, and he stands up and cups his lips. Then — the whistle. A sharp, haunting sound that carried like a shrill. At first, silence. Then the ground itself seemed to hum, the air thinning, growing colder. From the road ahead, mist began to coil and shape itself, the faint sound of hooves echoing where there was no path.
A spectral steed emerged — its body a shifting mass of smoke and bone, its mane like burning smoke drifting in the night. It pawed at the earth, though its hooves left no mark, waiting only for (Y/n)’s command. “One thing Aunt Doriann left me. Didn’t have much use since, you know, can’t see where I’m going.. but now.”
Wednesday’s eyes flicked to him, unreadable but approving in their way. “Always one for theatrics,” she muttered.
He gave a tired smile, reaching for her hand to steady himself as he swung into the saddle. “Better than Uber. Doubt they’d help two minors ride to Canada to get our wolf sister. Now, are you with me, my love?” He smiles, Wednesday took his hand.
She joined him, settling in close. For once, she didn’t pull away. Her gaze fixed on the horizon, where Enid’s trail led into the woods, her cold but firm arms wrap around his waist.
“Let’s bring her home.”
And with that, the steed reared back, screaming like a banshee, before it galloped into the night, carrying them both toward their family.
Another year at Nevermore ends in carnage and chaos. Unanswered questions hover like vultures. As for my parents, their smiles don't erase their lies. Was my mother's gift of Ophelia's diary an act of trust, or silent desperation? First we must find Enid. I gave her my word. But who exactly will return by my side? My friend? Or the beast that's consumed her? My Love has lost his power, but not his soul, he’s annoyingly persistent. I love it. Secrets are the bedrock of the Addams family. Toxic and festering just below the surface. As we venture into the unknown, I am determined to exhume every lie and deception, or die trying. Sounds like a perfect vacation to me.
After returning their bodies to their naturally cold and warm habitats, (Y/n) had finally taken the day to rest, unfortunately for Nevermore. Something much more dark took place, the Murder of Professor Orlong. The police had cut off a section of Nevermore as the investigation progressed, The Nevermore Misfits, (Y/n), Wednesday and Enid watched from the walkway that spans the Quad.
“We both know Santiago and her crew have no chance against two Hydes and a zombie.” Enid points out, which was oddly accurate.
“Your newfound cynicism is refreshing.” Wednesday said.
“Only you would leave psychic scar tissue in a body swap.” Enid says back, and (Y/n) rubs his chin. “You aren’t wrong, they’re going to get themselves killed, and I have a slight craving for steak sauce.” He muttered, and a Wild Agnes appeared next to (Y/n), who wasn’t phased.
“Nice try telling me to stay invisible.” She said to Enid, who opened her mouth to speak but Agnes cut her off.
“Shh, save your apologies.”
“I'm not even a little sorry.” Enid said in a matter of fact tone, “And you should be grateful we came to rescue you when there's a premonition I'd die.”
“And yet it never comes to pass. Worst premonition ever.” Agnes fired back.
(Y/n), being the mediator calmly puts his hand up. “Okay, okay, if you two can stop being, whatever this is, we have to address more occurring issues.” He said, “The premonition has changed, you’re not the one who dies now.”
“Really? Yes!” Enid said with relief, but he never said the premonition is gone.
“Wait. Who dies?” She asks, (Y/n) turned his head to Wednesday.
“An Addams.”
“Which is why I need to flush out Isaac and the Galpin family before he gets to mine.”
“No, which is why you and your family need to leave Nevermore.“
“And leave you to handle it?”
“You make it sound like I can’t.” He replied, Enid and Agnes slowly step back as the two argue. “Your family needs to leave Nevermore. If Death’s already knocking, I won’t let it drag them into this.”
“Running from death doesn’t spare you from it. It only ensures you die a coward. I intend to find Tyler and put an end to this.” Wednesday said, he frowns.
“You’re willing to gamble your parents, your brother, on your obsession with him. With winning?”
“I don’t gamble, unless it’s Russian roulette. I calculate. Something you clearly don’t understand.” She said and was ready to argue with him, he folds his arms. “Fine.” He said. Wednesdays jaw unclenched and a look of slight surprise hit him. “..You, aren’t arguing anymore.” She said, he shrugs. “You’re stubborn, it’s why I love you.. so I should expect this, but your family deserves to know their fate. Tell them.” He said, and walked off. Wednesday didn’t want to but, it’s not like he gave her much choice.
——-
“What has your braids in a twist, my little tempest?” Gomez said.
The Heads of the family, Gomez and Morticia were enjoying a breakfast as Gomez made dead mice on Toast. Wednesday had darkened their doorstep to visit.
“The latest exhumation from the growing secrets you've been keeping from me.” She began, her eye darting to Morticia, “Not only have you known the identity of Pugsley's zombie...Isaac Night was your roommate.” Wednesday said, which shocked them. Gomez sighed, and began to explain.
“He was more than that, He was my closest friend.” He stared, Morticia saw the unpleasant pain in Gomez’ face.
“Your father was the only one who could charm his way into Isaac's clockwork heart.”
“I tried to protect him from people who!wanted to exploit his genius.”
“Like Augustus Stonehurst.” Wednesday chimed in.
“That's why he built the lab for him in Iago Tower. Stonehurst saw him as the key to unlocking the secrets of Outcast abilities.
But Isaac... had his own plans in mind.”
“He thought he could use science to extract Francoise's Hyde ability.” Morticia adds in.
“I had no idea that Isaac was Pugsley's zombie until I saw him at Pilgrim World.”
“He's not just some brainless pet anymore. Isaac has fully regenerated. And he's reunited with Francoise and Tyler.nWho did not leave town as promised.” Wednesday said, which put more fire under Morticia. Who sadly left to go feed her large Venus flytraps.
“Larissa told me it was you snooping around here in Enid's body.”
“You and Weems have been conspiring behind my back?”
“You went to Rotwood's grave. It must have been your grandmama who planted that pernicious idea in your head.”
“It may have been pernicious, but it was enlightening.” She said, and asked a question, “How long have you been writing, Barbara Jean?” She said, and Morticia turned to her daughter.
“Since I was your age. But I made the mistake of giving my mother one of my early efforts. The sound of her... humiliating cackle still haunts me. So, after that I decided to keep my literary career a secret. Your father has no inkling. That's the way I'd like to keep it.”
“My lips are sealed for my own protection. I began to profusely vomit after reading the first five pages.” Wednesday says and a smile, an earnest one came from Morticia.
“Well, perhaps one day you'll appreciate the intoxicating power of weaving mystery and passion.” She turned back, but Wednesday was here for more pressing matters.
“We have more pressing family matters at hand. My premonition has changed, Mother. Enid no longer dies, One of us does. An Addams…”
“…”
“I'd like to sacrifice Pugsley—“
“We’re not sacrificing your brother…”
⸻
Enid sits by her lonesome in the Quad, until (Y/n) emerges from behind holding two iced drinks, condensation glistening in the sunlight. He hands one to Enid, who’s been tapping her foot nervously.
“Don’t say I never spoil you. One rainbow frappuccino, extra syrup… and, ugh, steak sauce...” he said.
Enid lights up, takes it with a little bounce.
“Don’t knock it till you try it. It’s my signature.”
“I doubt it, I get mine with Ground bog myrtle. Induces dreams, plus it makes my skin glow.”
Enid rolls her eyes but laughs, sipping hers too. For a moment, it almost feels normal. Then her expression falters, sad.
“She told you about Bruno, didn’t she?” She said sadly, and he nods.
“Yeah. wasn’t as faithful as he strutted around pretending to be. Some wolf.”
Enid stares down at her cup, the whipped cream suddenly not so sweet, (Y/n) could sense her sadness and leaned in a bit.
“Listen. Don’t let his screw-ups stick to you. You’re more than enough, Enid. Way more than he deserved.” He says, “You’re my pack. And that means you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, you’re being your own person finding who you are, I just.. hope I’ll be there for the ride I suppose.” Enid’s chest tightens, but she smiles, warmed by his words.
“…but if you do want revenge, I can always shave that mutt and tell Nevermore bald wolves are the new trend.”
Enid bursts into laughter, nearly spilling her drink. The tension breaks, letting Enid calm down, but it didn’t last long. Professor Capri approached, finally spotting Enid.
“Enid Sinclair, in my classroom now!” She said, a look of worry hits (Y/n)’s face as he turned to Enid. “It’s fine, you keep Wednesday from getting herself in more trouble okay?” Enid asks, a nod came from (Y/n) and she follows Mrs Capri. (Y/n) sensed uncomfortable and as they left, slowly followed behind slyly, creeping along the doorframe to Mrs Carpi’s classroom he leans nearby.
“You broke out of the Lupin cages last night. Why?” He heard Capri ask, and Enid had to lie.
“Just wasn't really myself.” Enid replied, which technically isn’t wrong but still, Capri continues.
“That's not an excuse. Becoming an Alpha isn't something you can take lightly. Especially with a full moon in two days.” Capri said, Alpha, that word caught (Y/n)’s ears, alpha.
“That doesn't sound ominous at all.” He muttered to himself, “If a young Alpha transforms under a full moon, there's a very real chance you could remain in your werewolf form.” Capri continued.
“For how long?” Enid asks, silence, and that gave Enid her answer.
“Wait. You mean, like, forever?”
“I'm afraid it's worse. Alphas who permanently transform, they're hunted and killed by other werewolves. It's a form of self-policing…” she said, (Y/n) felt weak for a moment. Enid, hunted down, killed? He shook it out of his head and gripped his cane more.
“If you follow the precautions, you should be fine. Before sundown, lock yourself in the Lupin cages and keep calm. You're not alone in this, Enid. Your pack is your strength.” Capri said, (Y/n) quickly departed before the two catch him.
———
The Gates house was still there, even more decrepit than before, but thankfully with no corpses. Wednesday and Thing had made their first appearance there and she looks at him.
“Check in the back. We're looking for anything that can point us to where they're hiding.nIsaac isn't going anywhere until he can save his sister from being a Hyde.” Wednesday went though the front, just like her boyfriend and casually stepped in. Weems was already inside looking at a few family photos.
“All Francoise ever wanted was a normal life, and she had it for a fleeting moment. The last time I stood in this room, she asked me to be her maid of honor. I knew she hadn't told Galpin about her condition, so I declined. We didn't speak again.” She said a bit sad, “Spare me your saccharine stroll down memory lane.” Wednesday cuts her off and down.
“Then perhaps you can tell me how you plan to take on the Galpin family monster mash-up. Your sharp tongue won't be enough to keep them at bay, unless you plan on tossing (Y/n) to the wolves again?” Weems said which irked a nerve, Wednesday shuts up very quickly after that. “If you're not here to help, feel free to dissipate.” She said.
“Talking to yourself?” A voice asked, Wednesday quickly turned to (Y/n). Who was able to track her due to the faint smell of embalming fluid. “You’ve returned, any luck?”
(Y/n) and Wednesday stand less than twenty feet away from where they just were, in front of the dog house as Wednesday looks at it, its notably moved and a giant staircase leads past it. “How you missed this is beyond me, ladies first.” He said with a motion. Wednesday gives him a side eye and heads down. (Y/n) casually follows, his hand tracing along the concrete walls. Inside looked to be on the levels of a safe house, but a less than prison style look towards it. There was food there, half eaten, not rotten.
“For a couple of Hydes, they fled like rats.” Wednesday said.
“Which means they either know we’re looking or, something’s happened.” (Y/n) chimed in, Wednesdays eyes trailed off to something most peculiar. Bloody rag on the ground, she picks it up and it begins to click.
“Now I understand why Isaac was so hell-bent on saving his sister. She's running out of time.” She said, (Y/n) rubs his chin, as Wednesday watched a bitter fly flap around. “If that’s the case, then why not let nature run its course? Tyler and his mother can both bite the dust naturally if that’s the case.”
“I doubt it would be a matter of days before he dies, it seems a long standing issue, death tends to collect on his own time.” Wednesday replied as she watched the moth land on (Y/n)’s hand. “Odd little thing.. even odder to have one in an enclosed death room…” he said, but maybe this was more important than they expected, so they went to their local expert.
——
“A New England corpse moth.
Extraordinary specimen. Where'd you find it?” Eugene asks the two as he looks at it in his dorm room, (Y/n) and Wednesday side by side as Pugsley was packing for, something.
“Following someone's emotional support zombie.” Wednesday said, which perked him up.
“You found Slurp?”
“Issac.” (Y/n) said. And Eugene shows the Moth.
“Tweezed these from Slurp when they were larvae. Now they're about to enter their migratory phase.”
“What's that?”
“When they return to their host body. To lay their eggs.”
“What if the body's on the run?” Wednesday asked, and Eugene nods.
“I bet they can still find it. Insect GPS beats Google Maps every day of the week.” Eugene said, which did in some form sadden Pugsley.
“I just wanted a friend.” He said.
“What, couldn't find one with a pulse?” Wednesday replied, (Y/n) tilts his head.
“I mean without me and Enid you’d—“ he starts, Wednesday eyes him and he turns his head away.
“I tried, okay? But no one was interested.” Pugsley said, a look of guilt hit Eugene. He lets the moths go as they fly off. Now it’s only a matter of time.
——-
Wednesday returns to her dorm, expecting Enid but was met with someone she least expected, her grandmother.
“Grandmama?” She asked, who was reading her novel.
“I'm just biding my time enjoying your novel. Viper's mother, Dominica, is pitch perfect. How do you describe her? "A clingy stay-at-home optimist that makes Viper want to shed her skin more times than a cobra." Speaking of your mother, she crystal balled me earlier. Gave me an earful about steering you to Professor Rotwood's grave. Said there were “complications.” I'm just relieved that you're unscathed.” She laughs.
“Neither of us have an iota of compassion.”
“It's one of our most endearing traits.”
“Tell me, what really brings you to Nevermore.” Wednesday asked.
“Your weasel of a principal called last night. I've heard kidnapping victims sound less desperate. He's offering me the moon to donate to your mother's gala.”
“I thought that ship had sailed, capsized, and sunk to the bottom of the Mariana Trench.” Wednesday replied, her voice calm, calculated and stern. Grandmama nods but held an uncouth smirk.
“Of course it has. But you know what I say... The bigger the offer, the sweeter the grovel.
You want to see the whites of his eyes when you reject him. There are few greater thrills than witnessing the exact moment when a man's spirit is broken. I think it’s Time to put Dort out of his misery. If he hasn't drowned in his flop sweat already..” she said, but her eye focuses on Wednesday, “Perhaps what you and your mother need is a break from each other. Come stay with me for the summer.nI could teach you about the family business. I realize you're going to be a literary enfant terrible, but death is recession proof.”
“Thank you, Grandmama.”
“I knew you'd come under my black wing eventually. You may be an Addams, but you're a Frump at heart. What little heart you have.” She chimed in, and walked past Wednesday and leaving her novel open.
———
As this happens, (Y/n) stepped into the lupin cages, his footsteps trail along old concrete and the hum of a voice catches his ear. Enid sits there with headphones on and a Hatsune Miku shirt on. Real moe.
“Enid?” He said tapping the cage, the vibration catches her ears and she turned to see him, and took off her headphones.
“If I have to spend my nights in this cage, I should make it feel like home. How goes the Hyde hunt?”
“I got a decent lead, They should be honing in on Isaac's rotting flesh as we speak.” He says, and sees her mood had shifted.
“What's wrong, Enid?” He asked, he knew the answer but, didn’t want to confront her, it’s her business to tell, not his to pervert with knowledge.
“Fun fact I learned today. If a young Alpha wolfs out on a full moon, there's a high chance that I could never change back. Like ever. And if that isn't enough, I'll be hunted by other werewolves.” She said, (Y/n) gripped one of the bars, hard. Guilt washed over him, unsure why.
“How are you supposed to prevent that?” He asked.
“By staying calm. Trying to distract myself with things that make me happy. Like, picking a dress for the gala.” Enid said, (Y/n) squints.
“For a gala you aren't going to attend?” He asked.
“Bruno asked me, As a friend.” Enid said to keep (Y/n) from shaving him bald, “Capri granted me an exception for my dance routine, as long as I lock up afterwards.
Capri said I didn't have to face this Alpha business on my own. That my strength is in my pack. But the truth is...you are my pack. You and Wednesday.” Enid said, (Y/n) swallowed the emotion in the back his throat.
“…If I wolfed out and couldn't, you know, change back, would you come and find me?” She asked, he cleared his throat and looked at her proudly. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth and back. You know that.” Before the two could clear the air, Ajax stepped in, looking less than happy.
“Bianca's in trouble. Have you heard of Gideon Sterling?”
“That, Song guy?” (Y/n) asked, and Ajax nods. “Her mom was a part of it, she’s been housing her in Nevermore and, Dort Found out…”
“I can't believe Bianca had a whole crime drama going on and none of us knew!” Enid said. (Y/n) shook his head. “Okay, this is fine, Ajax, I just need to find Wednesday…” he begins and footsteps follow. And as if on queue she enters.
“Where have you been?” She asks (Y/n). And he comically points to himself, “Me? About to go find you to tell you something.”
“My grandmothers giving her fortune away to Dort.” She begins, Enid peers past (Y/n). “Isn’t your grandma kinda stingy? No offense.”
“None taken, that’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said about her..”
“Well I was about to tell you That Song cult and Dort are connected, and why would your grandmother give her fortune away?” He asked.
“She wouldn’t…” Wednesday said, (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.
“Unless, someone made her.” (Y/n) said, “You know, like a …Siren..” he droned on, totally not egging his girlfriend on. Wednesday kept her cold glare, “Ajax, where is Bianca?”
“P-probably practicing her fencing..”
“Good, i’ve been looking to skewer some fish. (Y/n), do not intervene.”
“And why not?”
“Because I need her to assume im aone for this to work.” Wednesday walked off, (Y/n) felt an air of discomfort but, he trusts her.
——-
Bianca was swift, practical and efficient with her thrusts of her rapier. Alone in the gym she only had her thoughts, her regrets. The shift of sound makes her turn around and see Wednesday, suited up.
“Wednesday. I thought you were taking a break from the team.” Bianca said with a bit of surprise, Wednesday gripped her Rapier.
“Sabbatical's over. En garde.” Wednesday moves first, swift and precise, Bianca quickly deflects and puts her guard back up.
“I've barely seen you all semester.” Wednesday began, taking a quick jab.
“We have different extracurriculars. You do comas. I do a cappella.” Bianca fired back.
“And galas. You've taken to those like a Siren to water.”
“Your mother deserves most of the credit. Her attention to detail is incredible. I enjoyed working with her.” Bianca replied and deflected, which allowed Wednesday to riposte.
“Speaking of mothers, how's yours?”
“Haven't seen her since the summer.”
“You missed her when she was hiding in that classroom off the quad?” Wednesday said, and the realization hit Bianca, and so did a straight poke to the chest, Point, Wednesday.
“I don't know what Ajax told you, but stay out of it!” Bianca fired back.
“You've involved my family, so that's an impossibility. Dort is blackmailing you and your mother, isn't he? That's why you Siren-songed my grandmother. The four horsemen of the apocalypse would have to gallop through her tombstones before that woman gave a cent to this school.” Wednesday lowers her rapier, Bianca’s rage slowly quelled and she sighs.
“I thought I had freed my mom from my stepfather. But it turns out, Gideon is just the frontman. And Dort is behind it all. He was playing everyone from the start. He plans to steal your grandmother's fortune.”
“You should have come to me.”
“Even Wednesday Addams can't save me from this. I'm sorry, but I had no choice, And I still don't.” Bianca quickly snatches off her necklace and uses her powers.
“You won't remember this conversation, or anything you know about my mother.
Nothing about the gala is suspicious to you. Let it go.” Bianca’s entrancing words mellowed the cold heart of Wednesday, shifting her mind. Bianca walked off as Wednesday stood, still under the spell. Until laugher breaks her out. Agnes was there.
“You called it perfectly.”
“What'd she say?”
“Exactly what you predicted. Bianca confessed she's being blackmailed by Dort and some guy named Gideon.”
“Then she Siren-songed me into forgetting.”
“We really do make a great team, don't we?”
“Show yourself, Agnes.” Wednesday said, and she did, revealing herself, black hair in braids and literally wearing her clothes.
“Now that your premonition changed, and Enid isn't dying, I knew I had to step up my game to become your best friend.”
“By raiding my closet?”
“I did this for you. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”
“You failed…” Wednesday left, leaving Agnes finally broken. Unfortunately for her, the night arrives for the Grand Masquerade.
The room was a cathedral of candlelight and shadows, interesting whispers over the murmur of masked students. Heads turned not toward the glittering chandeliers or the sparkling gowns, but to the pair at the entrance.
Wednesday Addams stepped forward first, dressed in a gown that obeyed no modern convention. Black velvet, layered with lace that shimmered like midnight frost, clung close before breaking into jagged hems that brushed her shoes. The bodice was adorned with a skeletal motif stitched in silver thread, as though she wore her anatomy on display,
At her side was (Y/n). He wore a tailored black suit, trimmed with silver, the kind that belonged to a noble who had long since traded courtly halls for perhaps crypts. A half-cape swept across one shoulder like an assassin, lined with crimson silk that glimmered only when the candlelight caught it. His mask was wrought in silver, angular, almost like an eagle, with the faint curve of wings etched along its edges. His blind eyes seemed carved into the mask’s hollows, yet he carried himself with the surety of a man who did not need sight to command a room. His silver balled cane tapped softly against the ground.
“So, I believe we’ve stolen the show, should we begin the plan now or…?” He said, “Not yet, the maximum amount of shame and pain would be best to do it during his speech, then we’ll savor the moment, but first…” Wednesday walked off and (Y/n) left as Bianca was having small talk with others. (Y/n) bumps into the principal with a sleight of hand. “Sorry Mr Dort!” He said, “Ah, no harm, no foul!”
“Wednesday! Surprised you're here.” She said and Wednesday was never the one for subtle conversation.
“Where's Dort hiding your mother?”
“How did you—“
“If you want Dort to stop, you need to trust me. Where is she?” She said.
As this happens (Y/n) comes across Enid in her pink gown and was obviously about to compliment her, but saw her mid sentence to Bruno and what seems to be his girlfriend, but before he can step in, she took the reigns.
“You must be Enid. I don't want this to be awkward.”
“Don't worry. I'm not gonna be the villain in this story. I think I wanted us to work out because I was holding onto the past. But I have a new path now. One I have to face alone.” Enid said, still holding her head up. (Y/n) stepped back, maybe, Enid can handle herself. Doesn’t need to be coddled by him forever.
Leaving the Ball he entered the current crimscene of Orlongs murder, a few chairs around and disembodied sobbing.
“Agnes?” He calls out, and she appears in one of the chairs, still dressed as his girlfriend.
“I can't even get peace and solitude in a crime scene.”
“So uh, What happened to you?”
“Wednesday dropped an Addams bomb on me. Congrats. You win. I thought I was everything she wanted in best friend. Sarcastic, sardonic, with the same dark neogoth aesthetic. A task-oriented clue hound, willing to risk life and limb in a relentless pursuit of solving the case. But it turns out... I was dead wrong.” Agnes said.
“Oh, wow.. my bad I.. I didn’t know you were stupid.” He said calmly, which confused Agnes, “My bad that came out wrong.” He strolls over and sits next to her, as this happens Enid comes by, and peers into the room. “Agnes, when you look at me, what do you see?” (Y/n) asks.
“A, blind student? Master of magical arts? A fool?”
“All correct, but do you know what you didn’t call me? Wednesday’s Boyfriend.”
“Well—“
“Because I’m much more than that, so I ask you, when you look at yourself who do you see Agnes? Just, “Wednesday’s Stalker?” Or do you see more?” He said, Agnes wiped the tears from her eyes, really hearing his words. “You are capable of so much more than just being a lapdog, but you have to understand that you need to be you, unapologetically. Don’t put on a mask and be a foil for someone else.”
“I, I see.. thank you.” Agnes says. “Don’t mention it, I should tell Enid as well, “He said, and stood up. “I’ve been coddling Enid too long and, she’s becoming her own person and.. I’m worried I’ll smother her.”
“I think Enid is just fine, she’s much more capable than I anticipated and.. I should apologize to her.” Agnes says. And Enid steps out. “Apology Pre-Accepted.. I guess.”
“Enid I, I am sorry for how I’ve essentially tried to kill and or replace you.”
“Well if (Y/n) can put water under the bridge, I guess I can, still have some stuff to learn.” Enid said to him, and he hid his smile.
“Good, I have to get back to Wednesday but Agnes, consider what I’ve said… “I hope you find yourself, and I hope you take that mask off.” He leaves and the two girls share silence together, Enid clears her throat.
“Mmm. Well, the pack group chat is blowing up with the Bruno news, and I really don't feel like being a lone wolf out there, so...”
“I'll dance with you.”
“You don't know my choreography. Unless you've been stalking my rehearsals… you have, haven’t you?” Enid asks, she already knew the answer, it seems some things never truly change.
(Y/n) Stood in the crowd, letting Wednesday revel in dealing with her family by her lonesome. He adjusts his shirt and watch as Agnes finally switched up, rocking an emerald green dress and her natural red hair. She’s being, herself. Unapologetically. The dance works just as expected, flawless and whimsical in perfect synchronization with Enid, Agnes’ stalking does have its benefits, and claps come from the crowd and (y/n) with power, but now it’s all set in motion for the final play, and he creeps into the crowd to begin.
Bianca made her presence by walking to the front stage to the crowd and smiled.
“My name is Bianca Barclay, and I'm the student gala coordinator. Tonight was only possible thanks to the tireless efforts of two very special Outcasts, Gala Chairwoman, Morticia Addams, and our very own Principal Dort!” She said, the two stand also upon the stage, basking in the warmth of the crowd. Bianca turned to Dort. “Before I introduce our guest of honor, Principal Dort...” she began, and he expected to be siren songed, he reached for his necklace but, it wasn’t there. It was currently in the hands of Mr Healy, and Dort was at the mercy of Bianca.
“...please... tell everyone exactly how this gala came together....tell everyone exactly how this gala came together...” she said, and Dort was forced to parlay. Morticia slowly stepped back as Dort turned to the microphone and began to spill his guts.
“It started when I... ordered Bianca Barclay to Siren Morticia Addams into asking her mother for a large donation.” He said, the crowd gasps and he’s forced to continue.
“And when that didn't work, I held Bianca's mother hostage to force her to Siren Hester Frump to donate her fortune.”
“Are you out of your mind?!” A student yells.
“Also, I promised my Morning Song stooge, Gideon, that I would split the money. But I'm not big into sharing, so now he's a pile of ash in my fireplace, and I'm keeping all the cash.” He said, which snapped him out of the trance, and with his scheme foiled, he had one last trick, he grabbed Bianca by the neck and pointed his finger at her neck, an open flame!
“I'm walking out of here, or the Siren's toast!
Back off! Stand back!” He slowly backed to the end of the stage, but it was already too late for him.
“Dort!” Someone yelled, Bianca and Dort turn around to (Y/n) and Ajax. Ajax tears off his beanie and Bianca quickly closes her eyes, Dort wasn’t lucky and got a full eye of the gorgon. His body stiffens and the rays turn his legs first, Bianca broke free before she could become stone. (Y/n) takes off his glasses and bats his eyes, in a quick fashion, a blast of pure energy hits the Dort statue and exploded into nothing but rubble, and just like that, another plan was foiled. It seems that once again, (Y/n) had to be the one to get the job done.
The day now called for celebration, if you can call it that. (Y/n) and Wednesday stood together near an overarch that saw most of the ball. (Y/n) hums, thinking to himself and speaking.
“Your parents are… fascinating. Unconditional love. Decades together, and still they burn for each other like it was their first day. I used to think that kind of devotion was a myth, but Gomez and Morticia prove me wrong every time I sense them.”
“My parents are abnormal, even by abnormal standards. But yes. Their devotion is… resilient.”
“You say that like it disgusts you, but I think you admire it more than you’d dare confess.” Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line. Silence. Which, from her, was practically an admission.
“You think it’s cute don’t you?”
“Your brain must be melting.”
“No, you’re right, now I get it.. you’re not afraid of death, you’re afraid of commitment.” He said as a joke.
“I fear nothing.” She replied,
He stopped humming, turned toward her fully, and with that trademark cruel smile, threw the dagger into her heart and took the greatest leap of faith known to man.
“Then prove it. Marry me. Right here. Right now.” Wednesday froze. For once in her life, words fled. Her mouth opened, then closed again, a rare stammer breaking her usually unflinching tone.
“Wh–what kind of idiotic—… That’s absurd, you can’t just— I won’t—”
“It’s not absurd.” He took her hands, a bit hard for him to lower to one knee but he does, and looks upward her. “In the brightest hours, you are the only black hole I need, the shadow I willingly follow, the silence I never tire of. I do not ask lightly, nor do I expect words in return that I have not already heard in your presence. But if you would allow me the honor… I wish to marry you. To stand beside you, every day, until the stars themselves burn out. You, Wednesday Addams, are my everlasting moonlight.”
“I.. I…” Wednesday for the second time in her life was stun locked.
Her pale cheeks flushed faintly with suppressed fury, emotion, something she’d never felt, she hates this, or, does she? It’s a cold day in hell when Wednesday Addams is, actually embarrassed. With a sharp sigh of frustration, she stormed off, hair lashing behind her. She wasn’t angry, her face was turning red, she’s too embarrassed to say anything. (Y/n) gave a sad sigh and stood up, knowing it was too much to ask of her. It wasn’t until Eugene approached in a hurry.
“Isaac... he's here.” He said, (Y/n) whips his head around.
“Where?”
“At the Nevermore graveyard.”
“Pugsley. Where's Pugsley?” He said.
———-
(Y/n) rushed though the yard by himself, his sleek suit coated in mud but he didn’t care, Pugsley was the goal and The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something sharper—fear, malice.
“Pugsley!” he called, voice echoing in the cold night. No reply. Just the whisper of wind over cracked stones.
Then a sharp bang — sudden, blinding, like a star exploding in his vision. (Y/n) staggered, momentarily deafened. A homemade flashbang, the smell of burning chemicals curling in his nostrils. He stumbled forward, hand outstretched.
“Not good enough,” a voice hissed.
Before he could recover, a second strike: a rag pressed over his mouth and nose, the smell of chloroform sharp and suffocating. His legs weakened, knees buckling as darkness clawed at the edges of his hands. Weakness filled his body and he fell to them, what little strength he had was slowly being sapped.
Through the haze, he heard Issac’s voice, calm, cruel, shadowed by the moonlight. Tyler loomed beside him, steady hands ensuring he could not resist.
“You think this is about Pugsley?” Issac said, voice low, taunting. “No… your friend is irrelevant now We’ve found our new infinite power source. Those eyes of yours…”
(Y/n) strength faltered; his arms dropped, cane clattering to the muddy ground. He tried to speak, to fight, but the world was melting into numbness.
Issac leaned closer, his words like a knife across his fading consciousness. “The pain you will feel… is only momentary. Death… will follow soon.”
Bitterly Beautiful II, Chapter VI: Freaky Fr-Eye-Day
What’s the Worst that could happen?
Some things truly never change, I mean they do but.. well you get what I mean…
(Y/n)’s feet dangle inches off the ground, his body pinned against a cracked stone wall. A massive black-furred werewolf hand is clamped around his throat.
“Edgar Allen Poe Once said The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?” Unfortunately, the boundary seems to have its claw around my throat at the moment.
The werewolf snarls, its fangs glistening as the light catches them. (Y/n) grimaces, one hand clawing at the grip, the other with a silver arrow.
“I’ll admit—this is not how I expected today to go. You’re probably wondering how I ended up here. Fair question, but to keep it simple: this was Wednesday’s fault.”
——-
TWO DAYS AGO
“I warned you about Tyler coming. I told you to cancel the remembrance procession.”
The Addams Family were together, well besides Pugsley in Dorts office with Officer Santiago. (Y/n) and Enid were there as well, serving as Witnesses.
“What's your part in all of this?” Dort asked.
“I lured Tyler away from the ceremony. Wednesday had a plan to control him, or.. Kill him. It did not go well.”
“My plan was unfolding pretty well.” (Y/n) chimed in but got a glare from Morticia, he clears his throat.
“Until that second Hyde showed up and turned it into a nightmare.” Wednesday said.
“Two Hydes?” Dort says, but shook it off and turned to Enid.
“You're dismissed. The second monster, who the hell's that?”
“Francoise Galpin, Tyler's mother.”
“She's been dead for 15 years. I was at her funeral.” Santiago said, but it was simply untrue.
“Augustus Stonehurst faked Francoise's death. He was experimenting on her and others in the basement of Willow Hill. His daughter Judi never wanted you to find out.”
“Judi's been reported missing. Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“Francoise and Tyler are gone, with no plans to return to Jericho. Francoise gave me her word, and I believe her.” Morticia said, but (Y/n) shifted his face to Wednesday, the two know this isn’t the end but stayed silent.
“Sounds like our problem solved itself.” Dort chimed in, but Santiago wasn’t convinced.
“I should arrest you right here for aiding and abetting a murderer.” Santiago folds her arms.
“I make no apologies for my actions.” Morticia said defending herself.
“You ordered your deputies to abandon the school so they could save Normies at Pilgrim World. Leaving Outcasts to fend for themselves? How do you think the press will take that?” Gomez adds in, it seems that everyone is technically in a standoff.
“Luckily, no one got hurt, but in an abundance of caution I am mandating a school-wide curfew. Our gala is around the corner. So why don't we all just take the win?”
“Wherever there's murder and mayhem, you'll always find an Addams.” Santiago said.
“With corpse bells on.”
Wednesday, less than happy—returned to her Dorm to Weems at her Desk, waiting.
“Bravo, Miss Addams. You managed to release not one, but two Hydes from the asylum.”
“I was hoping once Day of the Dead was over, you would sashay back into the afterlife.”
“I. don't. sashay. Ever.”
“Are the Galpins still in Jericho?” Wednesday asked, which why would Weems know was beyond her.
“Now I'm adding bloodhound to my resume?” Weems fired back, as Wednesday approached, her dark presence commanding some level of attention.
“You're my spirit guide. How about some actual guidance?”
“I can tell you your vision hasn't changed. Enid still dies, and you are still responsible.” Weems Said, which irked Wednesday, it seems her idea—again—was wrong.
“What do I need to do?” She asked and a smile crept upon the ghostly visage of Weems.
“Finally, some positive engagement. Your psychic ability isn't just inherited. It's intricately tied to your familial bonds. The escalating and unresolved tension with your mother is what's disrupting your power.”
“That's absurd.”
“The Addams family lineage has always drawn strength from the unity of its members. Like it or not, you are part of that spiritual heritage. But that strength demands emotional clarity.”
“I don't need to deal with any emotions, and I don't need to cater to my mother's maudlin need to insert herself into my life
“Your lack of empathy is what makes you the weak link, spiritually speaking.”
“I'm the only link that matters.”
“Leave Tyler and Francoise to the authorities. Focus on fixing the relationship with your mother, and your partner who may or may not hate you.”
“Miss Addams, who are you talking to?” Someone asked, Wednesday turned around to Professor Orlof, a disembodied head in a moving jar, who’s still alive.
“Professor, did you ever teach Francoise Galpin?”
“She was Francoise Night in those days. But science didn't hold her interest, unlike her brother.”
“Francoise had a brother?”
“Isaac. He was the most brilliant DaVinci I've ever met. I owe him my life. He designed this life-support system for me.”
“You two must have been close.” Wednesday said, which made him laugh dryly.
“Isaac didn't care about people, but he loved to play God.”
“You said DaVincis loved Augustus Stonehurst. Was Isaac one of his students?”
“Stonehurst was his mentor. He built Isaac that secret lab at Iago Tower. They were thick as thieves. Until the night the lab exploded. Issacs body was never found. Some say he ran away, others... that he's buried under the Skull Tree. That's just an urban legend, but you're welcome to try and dig him up.” He said, and Wednesday quickly pieces it all together. She has to find (Y/n), now.
——————
The Nevermore gym buzzed with low chatter, sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor, the faint thud-thud of gloves against pads. A small group of outcasts — a mix of gorgons, sirens, and psychics — had gathered in a circle around (Y/n).
He stood barefoot on the mat, hands taped but not gloved up yet.
“Boxing isn’t about throwing punches,” he said, pacing in a slow circle. “It’s about balance. Rhythm. Control.”
He snapped his foot against the mat. Step. Pivot. Reset.
“Anyone can swing their fists like an animal. But if you know where to stand, how to move—” He slid forward, weaving around an imaginary strike, his hair falling loose around his face. “—you never get hit in the first place.”
One of the students — a cocky gorgon with his snakes hissing encouragement — raised his gloves and stepped forward. “So you’re saying it’s all footwork?”
“Exactly.” He said, he walks over to the wall, a few heavy bags are hanging gingerly by chains.
He shifts, crouches low, and in a sudden blur launches upward with a hook.
The THUNDEROUS CRACK. The chain rattles, almost snaps from the casing, and the bag slams against the wall with a heavy THUD. “Power comes from the entire body, not just your arms, footing, stance, all of it.” He explained, his senses catch up and he can feel Wednesday staring at him. “Okay just practice your stances, I gotta check on something.” He said and walked past students, and meets Wednesday.
“What?” He said, “Do you remember Pugsley’s pet?” She asked.
“That zombie thing he talked about? Yeah, weird but, not the weirdest thing in Nevermore so—“
“It’s Tyler’s Uncle.” She said, and it was silent for a moment, (Y/n) shook his head.
“Wait, what?”
“Issac was a prodigy of Stonehurst until an explosion killed him, said his body was left in a tree near Nevermore, sound familiar?”
“like that old clockwork story the seniors told us? That was 30 years ago..” (Y/n) muttered. “And Pugsley brought him back…” (Y/n) let out a hard sigh and walked to grab his gym bag.
“Where are you going?”
“To go torture your brother for information, it’s his fault for bringing him back alive.” He said, and walked past Wednesday, and the tiniest smirk came across her face when she heard that, even Weems— who was watching behind her could see.
“Truly a man after your own decrepit heart..” she said.
———-
(Y/n) was adjusting his coat as he changed back into his Nevermore uniform. Entering the boys dorm he walks straight to Pugsley and Eugene’s room.
“I'm running a special on the answers for Tudor-Pole's math quiz.”
“How much?”
“Five bucks. Guaranteed A, or your money back.”
He sees them running a scam business and he slams the trunk shut and turns to all the boys waiting.
“Store's closed, permanently. Everybody out.”
Students grumble but know arguing with a guy who can vaporize you with a glare isn’t a good idea. He then turns to Pugsley.
“Your zombie. When's the last time you saw him?” He said. Pugsley didn’t know how to respond and (Y/n) leans in.
“Your sisters waterboard is in her closet, do I need to tell her too?” He says, and Pugsley cracked pretty easy under that pressure.
“I saw him at Pilgrim World, okay? But Slurp's gone now. For good.”
“His name is Isaac Night.” (Y/n) stated.
“Isaac Night?”
“And how do you know he's gone?”
“..I might have let him go. Don't tell Dad. I kind of lied to him.” Pugsley said, (Y/n) sighs hard and pinches his nose. “He's just trying to live his life now that he's got a second chance.” Pugsley said, (Y/n) whipped his head around but calmed himself.
“Do you remember anything else?”
“Yeah, he dropped this it’s a, picture of a woman..”
“He's looking for his sister… shit.” He muttered, and went to plot something.
————
“Pull.”
At a beautiful home near Jericho, a flying disc was shot out of the air in clean fashion by Grandamama, Wednesdays. Enjoying a bit of gun safety was an Addams family side thing.
“What brings you all this way on such a dreadful day?” She said to her dreadful granddaughter.
“I need help restoring my psychic ability.”
“The last time I intervened, your mother burned that spell book.”
“Yes, but you're a Raven. You must know another way.” Wednesday said, Her Grandmama glared at her, trying to find some inkling of emotion and saw just the tiniest hint of desperation, she enjoyed that and smirked.
“Every now and then, I crank up my psychic sight so I can spy on old enemies.!Just a few flashes of their suffering. Usually brightens my mood.” She started, but Wednesday— ever the little devil points something out.
“You stopped using it after what happened to Aunt Ophelia.”
“Is that what your mother told you?” She replied and scoffs.
Doves can be so emotional, always living in the past and wallowing in their feelings.
I made a choice to leave all that behind. Women like us can't be burdened by family.
We forge our own path, dig our own grave, that’s why I’m going to tell you now, that boy you’re fawning over—“
Wednesday folds her hands neatly in her lap, expression unreadable.
“I Do not ‘fawn.’” Over anything.”
“Do not delude yourself, you’re not as emotionally underdeveloped like your mother.” She replied, and Wednesday shows her a picture of Tyler’s mother.
“This is one of the Hydes I accidentally released at Willow Hill. I need to find her.” Wednesday said, she sighs and her Grandmama nods.
“Have you ever come across the name Rosaline Rotwood? Professor Rotwood was a legendary Raven. She taught runes and ancient cryptology during my time at Nevermore. I was an amateur tomb raider, so I took to that class like a leech to blood.
In fact, your parents are slumming in her old cottage. She used to hold secret soirées in her seance chamber. She may have served stale sherry, but her psychic sight was extraordinary.” She explained.
“What does this have to do with my situation?” Wednesday asked.
“Rotwood is buried in the Nevermore graveyard. Her headstone is imbued with her dark energy. If a Raven recites the inscription, you will be granted temporary sight.”
“What inscription?”
“It’s etched, it’s in an old language from Rotwoods exploration in Europe.“
“Thank you, Grandmama.”
“I'm the last person to offer advice, and you're the last person to accept any, but... proceed with caution, my dear.” She said, giving Wednesday a warning, a premonition of things to come.
——
(Y/n) sits at a long oak table, braille scrolls and books spread around him. His cane rests against the table, his fingers tracing the raised dots searching for certain words.
He mutters under his breath, brow furrowed:
“Isaac Night… Isaac Night, Issac Night..”
From the darkness between the stacks, a familiar whisper breaks his concentration.
“Looking for something… specific?”
“Still stalking, Agnes? What are you here for?”
“Someone who knows where a few hidden tomes might be. You could use a second pair of eyes—or hands, in your case.”
“And why help me now? Not exactly known for your… altruism towards anyone but my Wednesday.”
“As far as I’m concerned, helping you in turn helps Wednesday, besides, you know so much about her to an.. intimate level. If I hung around you—“
“You think I’d spill some deep information about Wednesday for you to obsess over?”
“Mayhaps.”
“Well i apologize to inform you, I don’t kiss and tell.” He continues to stroll over the brail, but Agnes smirks.
“Issac Night was a DaVinci, he did experiments as well in Iago tower, he was an avid student and enjoyed human experimentation to some extent. I can offer you more if you’d like.” She said, which did impress him.
“I see, so you were listening, should have thought so…” he said, but unfortunately their little Library escapade was cut off by Wednesday returning, seeing Agnes close in, she walks over, letting her boots clank against the old wood.
“Agnes. You’ve misplaced your obsession. If you want to skulk around my family tree, at least choose a branch that isn’t already occupied.”
Agnes tilts her head, smiling faintly. “I can appreciate both roots and branches.”
Wednesday took one deliberate step closer to (Y/n), her hand sliding possessively onto his shoulder. “If you ever attempt to graft yourself onto mine again, I will prune you.”
Agnes kept her eerily calm smile as she turned invisible. “Anything for Wednesday Addams.”
As she faded out, Wednesday swiftly turned to (Y/n). “We need to speak in private.”
(Y/n) shrugs and follows suit, the two return to her dorm and she walked in first, he follows a bit slower and closes the door. He turned back as she stood in the center of the room, Arms folded.
“So, talk about what?” He asked, Wednesday steps closer, her hand shooting out to grab his wrist, pulling him toward her. The cold edge from the hall is gone; now there’s only intensity, a tight, possessive grip.
“Don’t test me.”
Her hands roam—one slipping to his chest, guiding him toward the edge of the bed, he’s forced to sit down, his legs firmly planted on the ground. (Y/n)’s hands instinctively wrap around her waist, holding her steady as she straddles him, knees on either side. Her forehead presses to his, and he feels the subtle shift in her, the possessiveness, the assertion of dominance that only comes in private. Her hands grip his shoulder, and the back of his neck, a sly grin crept along his face.
“You’re bothered, aren’t you?” He said in a slight hush.
“You’re mine. Only mine.”
Her lips brush his in a brief but deliberate kiss. He responds, one hand gripping her waist tighter, the other sliding along her back. The tension is palpable; it’s sharp, intimate, and dangerously close to what anyone outside would call… something else entirely.
“Endearing, in the most terrifying way.”
“Good. Remember it.”
“Should I?” He replies coyly and her grip went from his neck to a quick grip of the back of his hair, yanking his head upwards, an interested chuckle came from his throat and he, in return hugged her even tighter, the smell of black roses and Slight vanilla or patchouli undertones that soften her, but it’s so faint. Only a hellhound would catch it.
He breaks free and assaults her neck with a kiss, Wednesday lacked— moreso pushed away- the idea of some sense of emotional expression but the sudden and passionate expression made her stone face wrinkle in surprise and a smirk tugged the ends of her mouth oh so slightly.
The world outside the door might see Wednesday as cold and unbending, but here, in their private space, she’s all fire and gravity—hands-on, dominant, utterly hers. He smiles, letting her hold him, because even a girl who can strangle with one hand is worth every calculated risk. The risk was about to pay off until the sound of footsteps nearing the door catches them both. Enid.
Enid opens the door and sees Wednesday on her typewriter, a slightly wrinkled look on her blazer as she tries to hide a hickey, (Y/n) was sitting on the bed, listening as he had a few black lipstick smudges on his shirt and lips.
“Ugh, I had to escape. Dort was turning it into a AARP Meeting or Something.” Enid said, and sees Wednesday preparing to leave.
“Where are you charging off to?” Enid asks.
“The Nevermore graveyard.”
“Hello? Curfew! If you're not back, the entire dorm is gonna be barred from the gala. You may have dropped out of the orchestra, but I've been rehearsing my dance routine for weeks.”
“Dance?” (Y/n) said, intrigued.
“I'm not cowering away in the room while Tyler and his mother are out there. I'm going to find them.”
“Wait, How exactly?” (Y/n) asked now turning his attention to Wednesday.
“That's on a need-to-know basis. After last night, you don't need to know.” She said, it seems their romantic tryst was slowly turning into a major screw up. Enid could see the hurt on (Y/n)’s face for a moment and decided to speak up, not just for him but herself.
“Did it ever occur to you that we're all just trying our best?” Enid said, Wednesday was still packing, not paying much mind to them.
“Trying your best means you're planning on failing and letting me know in advance.”
“The fact that you can be so arrogant and still make so many bad decisions is staggering.”
“How was I supposed to know that Tyler's mother was still alive?”
“You weren't! That's the whole point.
Your arsonist-slash-firefighter complex is right there in black and white. You unleash chaos just so you can stamp it out and then feel superior.”
“You think you're powerful now because you finally wolfed out?”
“You have no idea what I'm capable of.”
“Now who sounds arrogant?”
The two are at each others necks, (Y/n) sternly steps in between. “Okay okay, calm down. Wednesday, whatever you plan on doing, don’t. You going by yourself—“
“I can handle myself.”
“A lot of people say that. But I’m just—“
“I have never needed your empathy or pity, it would be wasted anyway.” Wednesday walked off to the window. (Y/n) was fairly baffled by the 360 she did but attempted to calm himself. He sighs.
“Enid.. Capris going house to house.” He said, which shocked her.
“How long until she gets up here?”
“Twenty, Thirty?” He said.
“That's barely enough time to make it to the graveyard and back. I am not missing that gala! I will literally drag Wednesday back by her braids if I have to!” Enid begins to follow and he takes her wrist.
“Enid—“
“No, I’m not letting her mess something else up that I care about, first you, and now the gala?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, you.. it’s like you don’t have a spine anymore..” Enid muttered, “You’ll stand up to a Hyde for me but not your girlfriend?”
Enid breaks his grip, and follows the trail of Wednesday, leaving (Y/n) alone. Maybe he has lost his edge, his sense of, manhood.
Wednesday is off to do some dangerous plan to get her mystic sight back as Enid— Who Tyler is gunning to kill with Wednesday— is chasing her down.
I mean, What’s the worst that could happen?
——
The morning began like any other. (Y/n) stirred awake, he reached over to his desk and took his glasses and placed them on his face, decent sun blockers as well. He shuffled barefoot across the dorm, running a hand through his messy hair. The hiss and gurgle of his Keurig filled the silence. The sharp scent of coffee rose to meet him, grounding him in routine.
A sudden BOOM BOOM BOOM rattled the door.
(Y/n) frowned, mug half-filled. He padded over, still in his dark pajama shirt and loose slacks, and opened the door.
Enid stood there, stern-eyed and scarily calm, with Wednesday beside her—except something was… off. Wednesday looked paler than usual, worried, her hands fidgeting in ways she never did. Enid, on the other hand, radiated calm—eerily calm.
“Morning,” he said groggily. Without hesitation, he leaned down and gave his girlfriend a light peck on the cheek. “You two got what you wanted?” He said obviously annoyed.
Both girls froze.
“…uhhh,” “Wednesday” stammered, blinking fast. Enid’s lips twitched like she was holding in unbridled rage. He couldn’t see but he could sense something was wrong, he raised an eyebrow.
“Did you just kiss me?” Wednesday blurted, pointing at her own face, “uh, yes?” He replied confused. He slowly turns his head to “Enid.” And then back to “Wednesday.”, the trio stood in silence.
—————
“I feel so cold and uncomfortable. It's probably your factory setting.”
“Wednesday” said, holding herself, “Enid’s” eyes darted over to “Wednesday.”
“And I'm warm and clammy. Watching my body contort to your emotional outbursts is making me queasy.” Enid said to, Wednesday?
“Okay okay okay, Let me get this straight, you touched the headstone, recited the words, Enid touched your arm and you both woke up like this?” He said, “Wednesday.” or, Enid, nods. (Y/n) sighs and folds his arms. You know,” he drawled, “I might be willing to help. But first…” He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. “You both owe me an apology.”
“Wednesday” blinked. “Wait—what?”
His smile thinned. “Last night. Some very choice words were thrown my way.” His eyes flicked to Wednesday’s current borrowed form. “Especially from you, my love.”
“Enid’s” expression darkened instantly. Even in Enid’s body, her glare was lethal. “If you think you’ll just sit by and—”
(Y/n) cut her off smoothly, leaning just close enough to make the moment bite. “Or what?”
A beat of silence. “Enid’s” jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists that didn’t feel like hers.
(Y/n) smirked. “Exactly. You’re in no position to argue with me right now, let alone anything else. So… apologies first. Then maybe I’ll help fix this little mess and I told you to not participate in.”
“You forget yourself, (Y/n). Body or no body, I am still Me. Cross me, and you’ll regret it.”
(Y/n) leaned back against his desk again, utterly unfazed. He stirred his coffee lazily,“Mm. Regret,” he echoed, taking a slow sip. “Tell me, sweetheart… how exactly are you going to enforce that? I doubt you’d want to spend the rest of your life as a Wolf, especially if you knew Enid’s family.”
“Enid’s” fists clenched, her nails biting into Enid’s palm. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”
“No, I know I am. And right now, I’m also the only one standing between you and whatever hell you have freshly put yourself into, Morticia might even laugh.”
The image made “Enid” bristle like a storm cloud. “You’re insufferable.”
“Mm-hm.” He set the mug down, folded his arms, and leaned in just enough to keep up pace, “Apology. Now.”
There was a long silence. “Wednesday” glanced nervously between the two of them, sensing the temperature in the room drop. scared and afraid she’s going to be charged with Murder if this continues.
Finally, “Enid” exhaled through her nose like a furious cat. “…Fine.” Her voice was clipped, sharp, but undeniably real. “I apologize.”
“For?”
Her murderous cold glare could have cracked stone. “…For the cruel and—unnecessarily cutting remarks I made last night.”
“Good girl.” He replied.
Enid borrowed body stiffened, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Say that again, and I’ll find a way to haunt your dreams.”
“I hope so, now, you’re gonna have to take me back to wherever you did this.” He said, and the plan was set.
(Y/n) exits to the Main Quad with “Enid” and “Wednesday.” At his sides.
“What are we gonna do?” Wednesday asked.
“We tell absolutely no one. This must remain our secret.”
“You need to stay away from Bruno.”
“And you must avoid my family at all costs. Especially my mother.”
“We got this, right? I mean, how hard is it to act like Wednesday Addams?” “Wednesday.” Said, and fixed her attitude, (Y/n) turned to “Enid.”, “You know Enid you should smile more.” He joked and she glared, hard.
“You will suffer for this.”
“Eh, I doubt it.”
“Enid!” Bianca called out, “Over here. Saved you a seat.”
“Wednesday.” Turned with a smile. “Coming, guys!”
“Oh yeah, real natural.” (Y/n) said, and turned to “Enid.”, smiling. “Be careful, give her enough time and your reputations going down the drain.” He said, “Enid” Grabbed “Wednesday.”
“Get coffee. Sit alone. Stay out of trouble. I'll be back soon.” She said, and “Enid” turned to (Y/n). “I am demanding that you keep her from doing irrepressible damage to my body and reputation.”
(Y/n) shrugs, “Fine. Explore on your own.” He said, and “Enid” Departs, leaving him with his “Girlfriend.” Who he sees walking to grab coffee.
“Your braids are fire, Elise. And those shoes are a vibe, Sophia.” She said with the most uncanny smile on Wednesdays face. (Y/n) shook his head, but was caught off guard by Agnes appearing before him.
“I haven't been able to locate Isaac Night's student files yet.”
“Who's Isaac Night?” “Wednesday said approaching.
“Pugsley's zombie.” Agnes said, which “Wednesday” Totally remembered.
“Duh! Right. I'm clearly suffering from extreme caffeine deprivation.” She said and went to the kiosk to order.
“A rainbow furracino with an extra squirt of steak sauce, please.” She said to the man working there who, wasn’t particularly understanding about it, and “Wednesday.” Changes tactics.
“I can tattoo my order on your forehead if that would help.” She said, and got onto it right away, Agnes approached as (Y/n) slowly followed behind, not in much of a rush to help “Wednesday.”
“I thought you were allergic to color.”
“I mean, I just say that to keep up the whole tragic loner, goth girl aesthetic. I'll catch you later. Or never.” She leaves, Agnes is obviously confused. (Y/n) again, is somewhat enjoying the havoc but keeps an ear out.
As “Wednesday.” Tossed the cup away, Then, suddenly—her pale skin begins to blotch red, small hives rising. She scratches her neck.
“Uh-oh. Tingling… itchy… wait, am I—“ she said, feeling the uncomfortable feeling and sensation of pain and itching, (Y/n) casually peers around the corner and walks over to her. “Yeah, remember when Wednesday said she’s allergic to color?”
“I thought it was a joke!”
“Her? Joke? That’s actually funny but no, now we need to get help from the expert.”
Inside the women’s bathroom, a cream was put on Wednesdays hand. By her Mother Morticia, the cream begins to almost instantly cleanse whatever alignment was on her skin.
“I haven't seen your skin break out like that since Pugsley colored the inside of your favorite death mask.”
“This cream is amazing. What's in it?” Wednesday asked.
“Beeswax, stinging nettles, and ash.” Morticia replied, which confused Her.
“Ash?”
“Scraped from the bottom of a crematorium furnace. One of your grandmama's beauty secrets. Although it does give your skin that wonderful corpse-like glow.” Morticia smiled, which creeped Enid almost out of Wednesdays body.
“Well...Thanks, Mom.” Wednesday says, fumbling.
“Mom? That's new. Hmm. Something's different about you today. I can see it in your eyes. It's like your spirit is lighter.” Morticia said, and “Wednesday.” Tried to play it off
“Well, I'm just trying to embrace my inevitable decay with a touch of enthusiasm.”
“Why didn't you take your umbra mushroom pills? You know you run the risk of an allergic reaction if you skip a day.”
“Oh. Right. My prescription ran out…” she said making up some excuse.
“Well, luckily, I stopped by the apothecary and picked up your refill.” Her mother replied, Wednesday nodded and walked off.
“Got it. Bye.”
“Since you're turning over a dead leaf—“ Morticia said, forcing “Wednesday” to stop in her tracks.
“Perhaps you'd like to come for family dinner at the cottage tonight?”
“Oh. Uh, tonight's not great for me…”
“Pugsley's coming over. And your father's up from the city, and you know how much family dinners cool his heart, and don’t worry, (Y/n) is welcome to come as well, as far as we all are concerned. Do you realize how rare it is that anyone courts our daughter and survives long enough to sip tea with us? He not only survived, he has earned her loyalty. That, makes (Y/n) family. As far as I’m concerned, he is an Addams.”
“I would love to come, Mom—I mean, Mother. But I can't. Principal Dort just issued a curfew.”
“Well, I've already spoken to him, and he's given you, (Y/n) and Pugsley a pass for tonight. Isn't that wonderful? Lurch will pick you up at 7:00. Don't be late.” Morticia left, leaving Wednesday internally screaming, she walked out in a huff as (Y/n) waits.
“So, feel better?”
“Yeah just, peachy..” “Wednesday.” Said as she looked less than happy. “We need to talk…”
———
In the old forest where Wednesday departed the day before, “Enid.” Finds the old headstone once more, and stepping past it, was Weems.
“Once again, you have wandered into uncharted territory. Can't say I didn't warn you.”
“Fine. How do I undo this?”
“I haven't the foggiest. But given my penchant for meticulous research, I did discover that two other Ravens had the audacity to embark on this foolhardy endeavor before you.”
“What happened to them?”
“They were both dead within 24 hours. Bravo, Miss Addams, It appears you'll be responsible for Enid's premature death after all. As well as your own, and if Mr Healy cannot find it his his black book of rituals to fix this, you two will perish.”
———-
Back at Nevermore, (Y/n) sits across from “Wednesday.” At her dorm, sitting on Wednesday’s Bed.
“I barely survived a conversation with Mrs. Addams. She'll see right through me. You need to come with thing.”
“Well Things going to a support group, "Some of your parts. We help make you feel whole again." Is the name. Besides I’ll be there, you just gotta be, you not.. not you.” He said, “Wednesday” Frowned and he put his hand up.
“N-not that being yourself is bad, you’re awesome. Let’s work on your posture.”
“Wednesday” tries to sit up straight, keep a creepy but firm demeanor.
“No, no. Less like you’re constipated, more like you want to put someone six feet under. Narrow the eyes. Tilt your chin. Perfect.”
“Wednesday” tries again. (Y/n), out of sheer reflex, reaches over and brushes a stray strand of “Wednesday’s” hair behind her ear, and gently cups her chin, slightly lifting it upward.
“That’s better. There’s the raven I know.”
“Wednesday” freezes. Her cheeks flush a shade of red, well, as much as Wednesday’s pale skin will allow.
“Uh—you do realize this is me in here, right?”
He blinks, realization hitting. He pulls his hand back quickly.
“Shit, …Right. Of course, sorry.” He said and backed up from “Wednesday”. It was silence between the two for a moment until she sighed.
“Well, if I have to go, I need to find some Addams intel.” She walked over to Wednesdays desk and began to rummage through it, trying to find, something. (Y/n) turned to face her general direction. “I don’t know what you intend to find, I doubt Wednesday keeps a journal.” He said, and She finds what she needs/
“Wednesday's novel!”
“Uh oh..” (Y/n) muttered, sitting at Wednesday’s desk.
“Evelyn. That's the character who's based off me, right?” “Wednesday” said. (Y/n) gave a sad smile. “From what Wednesday tells me, yes.” He said, and “Wednesday” begins to read it, her face souring. "A trend-chasing, rainbow-loving, social media addict, whose... tastes in clothes and music are a heinous assault on culture"?”
“Oof..”
"Despite her Lupin abilities, Evelyn is feeble in both body and mind, requiring... Viper's pity and protection." Is this really how Wednesday feels about me?” She asks him, “It’s how she feels about everyone, don’t take it personally, if I took everything she said about me personally I’d be more miserable than I already am. Just, try to get though tonight, I’ll be working to cure this ailment.” He stood up and walked to the door, and left. “Wednesday was stuck in silence, fuming until she snapped.
“That's it! If Wednesday wants a heinous assault... she's about to get one.”
(Y/n) returned back from the library, searching for whatever he could on soul reorganizing. And heard the turns of BLACKPINK, odd he thought, until the sounds of dancing came from the Link. He walked over, sensing Bianca’s presence and walking next to her.
“What’s going on?” He asked, and Bianca turned to him. “Well, I think your girlfriends finally lost her mind.”
“I… what?” He replied, not sure how to answer that. It wasn’t until he turned his attention to the center of it, he could sense the color somehow, the bright clothes, the music.. all of that screamed “Enid!”, except the body making the dance moves, was.. Wednesday.
(Y/n) clenches his jaw, his fist tightening at his side. He knows it’s Enid, knows she’s doing this to torment Wednesday’s dignity — but he can’t expose her in front of everyone.
And then it gets worse.
“Ohhh, There you are~”
She spins her way through the crowd, all eyes following her, and plants herself in front of him. Before he can react, she throws her arms around his neck and presses her lips against his cheek — loud, exaggerated, playful.
The quad erupts.
(Y/n)’s face darkens, his shoulders tightening. His jaw works as if he’s biting back. He leans close to her ear, his voice low, sharp, and very not amused: “Enid, I need you to go your room.”
“And why do that?” She said with a smirk.
“Because you’re about to pass out.” He replied, she stepped back, looking at her hands and seeing how they’re turning red. All the color on her, slowly began to take effect, and as she collapsed, before she could hit the ground he swept her off her feet. With a weary sigh, (Y/n) carries his increasingly sick girlfriend-who-isn’t-his-girlfriend-but-is.
About 40 minutes later, “Wednesday” was using Enid’s phone and finds joy that her little escapade is treading. She kicks up on Enid’s bed as (Y/n) sits on Wednesdays.
“I’m going to ask you, one last time, to stay here. Because we still have dinner with the Addams. After that, I think my plan will work to fix all this. Can you promise to not do anything to mess this up?” He asked, “Wednesday.” Rolls her eyes, “Okay, Okay..” she said. He gets up and takes a stroll to the door, he gives her one last look back— if you could call it that— and leaves. “Wednesday” smirks at the phone
“So worth it.”
“Why are you on Enid's side of the room?” Someone asks. “Wednesday” looks up to Agnes, who decides to appear.
“It's none of your business. What do you want?” She asked.
“As someone who's spent hours obsessively studying you, I know something's wrong. Terribly wrong. Your K-pop dance in the Link was clearly a cry for help. I'm guessing it's PTSD from your coma. Or maybe even a brain tumor.” Agnes said, stepping a bit closer, “Wednesday” Clamors close to the phone.
“I'm fine, Agnes. There's no need for concern. You know I prefer to zig when others zag.“ she said, trying to use any form of her inner Wednesday.
“When did you get a phone?” Agnes asked.
“Uh...It's Enid's. She left it behind.” Wednesday said, and Agnes nods “No electronics in the Lupin cages. It's probably smart. No one wants their wolfing out pics going viral.” She says, which was news to “Wednesday.”
“Why would she be in the Lupin cages?There's not a full moon.”
“Capri stuck her in there. Right after she broke up with Bruno. Dumped that dumb dog like yesterday's kitty litter.” Agnes said, which was even more of a shock to “Wednesday.”
“She broke up with Bruno? Why? Tell me right now, you creepy little …creeper!”
“Why do you care about her overheated YA werewolf drama? If Enid knew you were trying to keep her from dying, then she might have something to howl about.”
“What do you mean, try to keep her from dying?”
“Your premonition... of course.” Agnes said, which was something they did their best to keep from prying ears. She looks down in dismay.
“I can't believe she would do this to me.” And Agnes slowly crept up, seeing her opportunity to make a permanent friend of “Wednesday.”
“I'm starting to think Enid is the problem. Your obsession with saving her has caused you to crack, but who can blame you? Living with a clueless, boy-crazy cliché like Enid Sinclair. It's enough to put anyone in a straitjacket. Maybe it's time to cut her off. Like a bad finger. I'm certainly more than ready to be best friends with you…” she said and unbeknownst to her, the kittens clanes finally had a chance to come out, coated with black nail polish.
“You don't know anything about me. You're just a sycophantic loser that I use when it's convenient. But we're not friends. I don't even like you. In fact, I wish you would just stay invisible. Forever!“ she yelled, the pain in Agnes’ face was palpable, holding back tears she nods, and slowly fades away. “Wednesday” can see the door seemingly open by itself.
———
The time had come, and now the Addams family had their dinner. The dining room is lit by towering candelabras, shadows flickering across the gothic portraits of long-dead relatives. The long oak table creaks under the weight of tonight’s feast: Roadkill Pot Pie, its crust lumpy and misshapen, with the occasional furry tail poking out. A garnish of crushed beetles glistens on top. The pie is served. The smell is… overwhelming. Something between burnt rubber and wet dog. (Y/n) was physically gripping the table not to vomit, “Wednesday” was trying her best to pretend she was herself.
“Bravo, Lurch. You have outdone yourself.” Morticia said to the lumbering Lurch, and “Wednesday” puts on a face to try to seem herself.
“Remind me what this is again?”
“Darling, don't you recognize your favorite family dish? Roadkill pot pie.” She said, (Y/n) bit his tongue not to say anything.
“Yum! What's in it?” “Wednesday” asks, her leg shaking in disgust, every muscle in her body screaming to run.
“Possum.” Gomez said, Little guy ran out right in front of us. Lurch backed up over it twice. Tenderized it. Ooh, yeah. He also added a little leftover raccoon, which gives that special woodsy flavor you adore.”
“But, Now that we're all here together, it's time for a serious discussion.” Morticia said, and everyone turned their attention to her.
“Your father and I have tried our best to instill our family values in you children, even You, (Y/n). But we draw the line on lying.”
“I thought you said lying was an important life skill.” Pugsley said.
“Yes, like in business, politics, jury duty... that's a big one.” Gomez chimed in, and Morticia continued. “You three have been lying to us. And I'll give you one chance to confess.” She says, and it was silence, (Y/n) was unsure of how much she knew and just what she planned to do about it.
“There's still a punishment, right?” Pugsley asked.
“Of course. Don't be silly.” Morticia replied, and Pugsley nods.
“I lied to you about Slurp. I saw him at Pilgrim World, and I let him go. I'm really sorry, Pop. So, um... do I get the rack or iron maiden?”
“We'll flip for it. Come on. Let's go. Please excuse us.” Gomez and Pugsley leave, leaving (Y/n) and “Wednesday” in a very bad predicament.
“Earlier, I caught Enid in Rosaline Rotwood's secret seance chamber. Any idea why she was snooping?” Morticia asks, her eyes dart to Wednesday, who obviously was giving nervous tells.
“None, actually.”
“I see that bewildered look in your eyes. It's the same look I noticed this morning. And now it makes sense. Your obsession for getting your ability back has finally made you lose your mind…”
“What?”
“But don't worry. I will have Lurch make up the guest room.” She said, and (Y/n) couldn’t hold his tongue.
“It’s not that…” he starts, “it’s not her fault..” he tries to plain but Morticia cuts him off.
“I sense your presence again. Show yourself. I demand it.” She said and he spits it out, “It’s not Wednesday..” he said, and her eyes slowly trail to him, and he sighs.
“At your mother's suggestion, Wednesday attempted to gain temporary second sight at Rosaline Rotwood's headstone, Unfortunately it backfired, badly and now we’re in search of a way to fix it.. Enid was looking for that way to fix it, Except that wasn't Enid…It was Wednesday.” He explained. Morticia blinks a few times, and then turns to “Wednesday”.
“Enid? Is that you in there?” She asks and nods.
“Where's Wednesday?”
“Locked in the Lupin cages until the morning.” He says. “But, we can probably wait until then correct?” He asks and Morticia shook her head.
“It'll be too late.”
“Too late?” He asked.
“They only have until dawn to set this right.” Morticia said, and (Y/n) leaned back, “So.. if they don’t switch bodies before dawn.. Wednesday’s vision comes true..” he said, with little hesitation he stood up and turned to Enid. “We have to go now Enid…”
———
The Lupin cages were built to withstand a werewolf but easily to be opened by a simple lock. “Enid” sat in the cages, arms folded with a deadpan expression. The doors open and “Wednesday” steps in.
“Your little creeper told me about your vision of my death. Thanks for the trust. I also know that if we don't switch back by dawn, we're both going to die. And I am not checking out looking like this.” “Wednesday” says, and “Enid” eyes (Y/n).
“Didn’t give me much choice at that point to not tell her. Point is I have an idea on how to fix this.” He says, (Y/n) smiled.
“And how would that work?” “Enid” asks and (Y/n) said pretty flatly.
“I’m gonna have to kill both of you.”
Silence followed, he realized how bad that came out. “Not like that! Just, follow me, I’ll be the medium between both souls and accurately place them is all. You’ll just seem dead since you know, you won’t have a soul.” As the three leave, “Wednesday” gets a call on her phone, Agnes, and she sounds, distressed.
“Wednesday... I know we currently aren't friends, but I found them. I found Tyler Galpin and Isaac Night. I took a leaf out of your detecting playbook. I'm currently hiding in their trunk along with a very... very dead body.”
“At least somebody stayed on task.” “Enid” said.
“Are you serious right now?” (Y/n) folds his arms.
“Agnes, are you insane? Get the hell out of there!”
“No. It's too late. Sharing my location with you now.” She said, the two girls look at the phone and note it’s moving to one location.
“They're headed to Willow Hill.” “Enid” said,
“We need to switch you two back first.” (Y/n) said.
“After we save Agnes and take down the Galpins. You’re not going to let her die.” “Enid” says, (Y/n) grits his teeth and angrily follows her.
The air was damp as the trio entered the old basement, (Y/n)s hand sliding along the wall to keep up as he listened and uses the echo location.
“Enid” — really Wednesday— follows, shoulders rigid. She’s doing her best to keep the deadpan, but every step makes her jaw twitch, her nails dragging faint lines into her sleeves. The beast inside her — the wolf — scratches against the surface.
“I’m fine. Don’t— don’t look at me like that.” She said as she can sense “Wednesday”— Really Enid’s— Worry.
“You need to calm down or you're gonna wolf out.” “Wednesday” said, they follow close and find the basement and Issac preparing whatever to deal with Francois and her issue. (Y/n) took one step and Tyler stepped out of one of the locked rooms.
“Seriously? Where’s Agnes?” He said, Tyler tilts his head just a bit and pulls something from his belt. Isaac smirks — not intimidated, but calculating. He lifts a small, cobbled-together device from his belt.
He hurls the device at their feet.
A burst of white-hot light and concussive sound fills the basement. (Y/n) yelled, staggering backward, hands clutching his head. His brain feels flooded; his ears ring with a shrill, agonizing whine. The sudden shift of weight knocks him down, as the ringing slowly faded, he made out what seemed to be “Wednesday” trying to distract Tyler by leaping on his back, only to get thrown off. (Y/n) stumbled up and rushed Tyler into a spear into the controls, it began to go haywire as the two boys fell. (Y/n) crawled away back, and heard growling. His ears peek up and he slowly turned to one of the looney bin rooms, Agnes was held captive inside and.. something out. It stomped, growls and its black fur was perfectly blended into the darkness, it was Enid.. or in this case, Wednesday. Enid lacked a true decrepit sense of duty and attitude, it’s what Wednesday was best at, but if there was one thing Wednesday did lack currently, it was control.
(Y/n) slowly put his hands up, “Wednesday? Babe? It’s okay? Let’s just. Calm down.. okay?” He said, “I don’t wanna hurt you…” he slowly reached into his belt, drawing a crossbow bolt. Tipped with silver, a common weakness in monsters. Before he can use it, that black claw grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up.
(Y/n)’s feet dangle inches off the ground, his body pinned against a cracked stone wall. A massive black-furred werewolf hand is clamped around his throat.
“Edgar Allen Poe Once said The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?” Unfortunately, the boundary seems to have its claw around my throat at the moment.
The werewolf snarls, its fangs glistening as the light catches them. (Y/n) grimaces, one hand clawing at the grip, the other with a silver arrow.
“I’ll admit—this is not how I expected today to go. You’re probably wondering how I ended up here. Fair question, but to keep it simple: this was Wednesday’s fault.”
(Y/n) dropped the bolt out of sheer desperation and reached out, grabbing the wolf by its head, their eyes roll back to their head and his final gambit was played.
——-
Wednesday stirs, the scrape of iron cuffs rattling as she shifts. Her wrists ache. Her hair feels… wrong. Too short. Too coarse. The weight in her body unfamiliar—broader shoulders, heavier muscles.
And then the realization hits her when she speaks:
“…This is intolerable.” They said
Her voice rumbles out lower, sharper.
She jerks her head, but something binds her eyes tight. Blindfolded.
From across the area, she hears an exasperated sigh.
Enid, or… (Y/n). He, She.. well they, fold their arms.
“Good. You’re awake. Before you start whining, this was the only option. You were seconds away from mauling me, half of Willow Hill, and probably Enid too. I improvised.” They said, “(Y/n)” shook their head. “How did you—“
“Irish Druids used to be able to take over animals bodies to see and scout, turns out werewolves fall into that category thankfully.” They explained, “Wednesday”, was leaning over their shoulder. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“Yeah Wednesday’ll be fine. Just had to make sure when she woke up she didn’t instantly open her eyes and—poof, vaporized.” They explained, “So, if I untie you, are you gonna promise not to open your eyes?”
“…”
“Your silence says a lot…”
“Fine.”
“Enid” helps “(Y/n)” by removing their cuffs and bindings, “Where are we?” (Y/n) asks, “The Headstone where you decided to make a really dumb decision, Enid told me where.. so, now to fix this.. just touch the stone, and I’ll sort it all out, ready?”
The three did as said, all at the same time placed their hand upon the stone and their bodies went still, and dead. The trio stand in an endless white void, before them, three doors. One Adored with colors, the other jet black, and a door with carvings on the front.
“See? Told you I’d work… now, just go though your door. And be done with it, can you two handle it from here?”
“Quite.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Enid said, (Y/n) shrugs, “it’s what family’s for, besides It’s not like I could leave you two like that anyway.” He walks though the carved door, and now the two are left together. Before Enid returns, she speaks up.
“You know what I love about being Wednesday? Your fearlessness. Except when it comes to your mom. But... I get it. She can be a lot. You're afraid she'll never accept you for who you truly are. That your darkness is even too much for her to grasp. You'll become the disappointment she'll never want to speak of. Just like your aunt.
I can feel it in your bones. That's why you push her away. But maybe she has more to teach you than you think…” Enid said, which did give Wednesday something to consider, and she nods.
“The best thing about being Enid is your quiet strength. You think being an Alpha will mean you'll be alone. I won't let that happen, (Y/n) won’t let that happen. You need to stop trying so hard for people who don't deserve it. Like Bruno, who mistook your kindness for weakness. It's not. It's your power, Which I could barely handle for one night. I regret ever underestimating you.
Wednesday and Enid enter their respective doors and emerge at Dawn. Wednesday opens her eyes to her cold dead body, just as cozy as she remembers.
“Wednesday! We're alive!” Enid said, who’s back in her own body, (Y/n) was adjusting his collar. “Happy?” He said smugly.
“I feel so warm and fuzzy!” She said.
“And I feel as cold as a cadaver.” Wednesday chimed in. “Enid. Why don't you go back to the dorm and get changed? I'll be right behind you.” She said
“Good idea. I could seriously use a bubble bath.” Enid heads off and (Y/n) helped Wednesday up.
“Well, you’re back to you and Enid is, still Enid.. now with that done can we please leave the Galpins alone and get on with our scholarly work?” He says jokingly.
“Well, you’re back in your cold, dead body. I can stop worrying about you cracking a smile and ruining your reputation.”
“Your attempts at humor are as pitiful as Enid’s rainbow wardrobe.”
“Oh yeah, like the one she made you wear.” He said, and Wednesday snaps her head to him.
“She what?”
“Oh, babe you’re gonna haaaate this…” he talks, but as he does it drones out, and Weems appears behind him as Wednesday eyes her.
“The premonition of Enid's imminent death is no more.”
“So why the dour face?”
“Your actions today have put another life at risk. An Addams must die. The question is... which one?”
Please don’t expect a long story, just something short n cute after I finished Superman finally. And lo and grind my dear Rhenerya Targaryen is now Supergirl
A wide, breathtaking view of the Arctic. Ice sheets glisten in the sun, the Fortress of Solitude looms in the background. There’s silence except for the wind. Then — laughter breaks the stillness.
Superman, the answer to all evil in the world was just tossing a football with a friend, a guy in a windbreaker and jeans, seemingly normal.
“You know, when I was a kid, Pa and I used to play catch out behind the barn for hours. Never thought I’d be doing the same thing here.”
“Yeah, except your barn didn’t have polar bears watching from the sidelines. Or, uh… a dog that can fly.”
Krypto, Superman’s dog barks happily, tail wagging, prancing in the snow. With impacts that nearly shake the ground.
“You ready, boy? Go long!”
Superman tosses the ball gently. Krypto zooms off in a blur of white, leaps impossibly high, and snatches it midair before circling back proudly.
There’s a beat — the two men stand there, just breathing in the frozen air, snow crunching under their boots. It feels normal, even ordinary, despite the extraordinary circumstances.
“Normal’s not so bad, huh?” The man said, Superman gave a silent but gentle nod
“No. It isn’t, but..”
Superman suddenly grips the ball with a mischievous smirk. He steps back, winds up like a quarterback. He rockets the ball into the sky — it vanishes into the clouds. The man’s jaw drops for half a second and back at Superman.
“Probably nearing Greenland. I got it.” He said, flicking out a pair of black visor glasses and puts them on, definitely made for biking or, high speed activity. He gets into a running man stance, legs bent, body angled and in a rush, he took off in a blur of Red. Silence followed for a second, then-
A crack of thunder.
A red streak of lightning rips across the Arctic snow.
The blur is gone before the sound even hits, carving a glowing scar in the ice. The wind roars in its wake, flinging snow into a spinning cyclone.
From a fisherman’s boat off Greenland, the blur passes in an instant — the old man blinks, hat nearly ripped off his head, and the sea behind him froths like it’s boiling.
Across the Atlantic, cargo ship workers see only a streak bouncing across waves, each footfall detonating spray high into the air. One worker shields his eyes and yells,
“¡Dios mío! What was that?!”
In beautiful lovely Paris, café tables rattle. Papers swirl. A croissant disappears from a tray in a blink — only crumbs left fluttering to the cobblestones. The blur is gone before the baker even turns his head.
In Brazil. A soccer stadium was mid-game. The crowd gasps as a ball appears in the goal — no one saw the man in red lightning who kicked it there. The referee throws up his hands, stunned, before the roar of “GOOOOL!” fills the air.
Beautiful China. Tourists gape as red lightning streaks along the Great Wall, rippling banners and hats into the air. By the time they fumble for their phones, it’s gone, nothing but scorched footprints in the stone.
In the Himalayas, Tibeten monks are meditating in silence, they feel the ground quake as the blur scales Everest. Snow cascades down the peak in avalanches that mysteriously stop short, as though held back by some unseen hand.
At the summit — the blur snaps into shape.
He slows down and holds the ball and zooms back, Superman waits a moment until the sonic boom comes back and his friends return.
“Back.” He said flatly. And tossed Superman the Ball Back.
“Golly, gotta admit I thought that was another ball I lost.”
“Faster than I look.” He said jokingly, and the two walked back to the fortress of Solitude. Superman pressed his palm to the surface. The ice shimmered — and with a low groan, a massive crystalline doorway began to part, refracting light like a prism.
Stepping inside was all white but, warm somehow. He followed the man of Steel inside another chamber to a surround number of what seems to be anutmatronic humans. The central automaton’s optics pulsed as it spoke, voice calm, formal, yet strangely warm.
“Welcome, (Y/n) the honored guest. You stand in the House of El.”
“House of El, fancy… anyone else I should be aware of?” He asked, his answer was swift, sudden and a crash. The sound of something breaking into a wall and thudded on the ground broke their silence.
“Aw. Shoot.” They said, “Sir, I think your cousin has returned.” One robot said.
“Cousin?” (Y/n) asked, eyebrow raised. The two turn to a side entrance of the cave and watch as a figure stepped out of the cold shadow, stumbling.
“Yup” Clark said flatly.
“What.. the hell dude?” They said and (Y/n) got an eyeful. The same heroic costume as Clark’s just built with a skirt and a… dirty brown trench coat? (Y/n) wanted to ask but was stopped by staring at her face. Her saw beauty, the first stretch of her hair was this beautiful auburn brown that slowly transitioned into a sly and fantastic dirty blonde. He saw these beautiful— albeit glossy— beautiful ocean like blue eyes. It almost overlooked the fact she was completely hammered.
“Why did you move the door?” She asked in a slur.
“I didn’t move the door.” Clark replied, and she ignored his response and eyed (Y/n). Who was staring. “And who’s this guy? You didn’t tell me you had…. friends.” She said, “Yeah I’m uh.. the Flash. Can run round the planet in like, a couple of seconds.” He said, Kara tilts her head.
“You’re kinda… super. Good for you.” She then looked at Clark. “Where’s my dog?”
“That’s Your dog?” (Y/n) asked and watched as Krypto came flying to tackle his owner and shaking her around, she laughs. Obviously it does little to hurt her, moreso fun for her. (Y/n) slowly turns his head to Clark, who was silent.
“Well this is why he has behavioral issues..” he said. Kara gets up from her thrashing and walks off with Krypto to, God knows where but not without leaving her cousin a parting thanks:
“Thanks for watching him, bitch!”
Which lead to even more silence, “she likes to go and party on other planets, planets with red suns.”
“Why red?”
“Because of our metabolism you can’t get drunk on a planet with a yellow sun.” He explained, (Y/n) continues to watch her face past the snow.
“So she goes and parties off on other solar systems while you, fight to the death here, fair enough. Gotta say though Clark, your cousin is…” (Y/n) drones on, a smile creeps along his lips.
"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."
Morticia was Reading Macbeth to Wednesday who lied on the hospital bed, in a coma, it’s been two days now. Gomez entered, slowly opening the door.
“How's our little cadaver?” He asked, walking to Morticias side.
“The doctor suggested I read to her.
I chose Macbeth. Nothing like death, despair, and dismemberment to try and snap her out of her coma.”
“Tish, come on. Denmark will still be rotten tomorrow.”
“Wrong tragedy, mon chéri.” He said, as they speak the door opens once more. (Y/n).
He walked in with a bandage on his wrist and one on his temple. He kept his glasses on and his eyes down. “I… didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You didn’t. You belong here.”
(Y/n) takes a step forward. His attention drops to Wednesday, and the weight of it nearly breaks him. He grips the head of his cane, knuckles turning white.
“I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve—”
“No. Do not poison yourself with what-ifs. Guilt is a parasite — it feeds until nothing is left.” Morticia said, “We know you would have done everything in your power to protect her, a man after my own heart. Your devotion to her is disgustingly strong and beautiful in its own way.” Gomez humbly chimed in, he placed his hand on (Y/n)’s shoulder. “Take your time, she’ll awaken from her vacation eventually.” Gomez and Morticia leave and (Y/n) walks to the chair and slowly sits down, sinking into the fabric.
He sat that for gods know how long, the chance Tyler would come to finish the job, he’s sending him to the other side. Doriann Healy steps inside, her towering frame filling the doorway. She has to duck her head beneath the frame. Dressed in her tailored dark-green suit.
“You’ll collapse before she wakes if you keep this up, boy.”
He doesn’t look at her, just tightens his grip on the cane.
“I’m not leaving her. Not when he could come back to finish it.”
Doriann exhales through her nose, her footsteps shaking the floorboards as she approaches. She places a massive, calloused hand on his shoulder — the weight of it nearly buckling him further into the chair.
“Even stone cracks when pressed long enough. You need rest boy.”
“I’ll rest when Tyler isn’t a concern, if he kills Wednesday, he’ll go after Enid and.. and then I really wouldn’t have anything to lose.” He said, not to her but to himself. Doriann sighed, “You know what they say, “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process” She began and he finished it.
“He does not become a monster.” He muttered, “And if you gaze long enough into an abyss..” She starts again, and he grips his cane, hard.
“The abyss will gaze back into you.”
“I can see this is, personal, too personal for even family. If you need to hunt this beast, I’ll prepare your tools.” She said, “Don’t worry no firearms, wouldn’t let me on the grounds anyway. But I believe you’ll be ready when the time comes. I must depart, Davey finally has come to his senses.”
“When the time comes for what?” He asked.
“To show Mercy or show Justice.” Doriann leaves, letting the boy finally sit in silence. He reached over, and gently took Wednesday’s cold hand in his.
“They say battle changes you. Makes you stronger, more ferocious. A monster in the night. Watching. Learning. Hunting.”
His grip on her hand tightens. A tear forms, but he fights it back.
“Each time I enter the pit, I emerge reborn. Put the devil on the other side… and I will show up. Evolved. Adapted. Prepared to fight.” He cocks his head towards her, Vengence brewing in his heart.
“I don’t care what it takes. I’ll find him, Wednesday. I’ll kill him. And I’ll make damn sure no one ever hurts you again.”
As Wednesday lied upon the bed, she dreamed, or, what one would call a dream sole would say a nightmare.
She jerks up from her sleep to an empty room except a nurse at a sink, and when the nurse turned around it was someone she never expected to see again.
Principal Weems.
“Rise and shine, sleepy head.” Weems smiled, which obviously send Wednesday on a tilt.
“Principal Weems?”
“Ready for your sponge bath?”
“What ring of Hell is this?” Wednesday said, and Weems smirked
“Miss Addams...This isn't Hell. But I understand the confusion.” With a snap, of her fingers they appeared in a forest, mist surrounds the counter ring as a desk was placed gingerly in the center.
“If I'm not dead, then why are you here?” Wednesday asked as Weems posed.
“Because I am your new spirit guide. Surprise!”
“That's impossible. A spirit guide must be a relative.”
“Turns out we're 13th cousins. Twice removed.”
“…There has to be another option.”
“Your last spirit guide literally gave up her ghost to save your bumbling hubby, who’s plotting to go kill your pet Hyde. Mr Healy was always a bright young man, but maybe love blinded him. Believe me, nobody was putting up their hand for this assignment.”
“Yet here you are.”
“The tantalizing prospect of tormenting you from beyond the grave was just too delicious to pass up. Now, you've certainly been a busy bee. Just a recap... You lost your psychic ability.”
“Only after I mastered it.”
“Congratulations Mastering a Seizure, You lied to your one and only friend, Enid Sinclair, about her impending doom.”
“I was protecting her.”
“And the coup de grâce, freeing Tyler Galpin, a homicidal Hyde, from a high-security psychiatric institution, and your Boyfriend is going to risk his life to kill the Hyde to protect you and Miss Sinclair. Congratulations, Miss Addams. Your hubris has yet again made you the architect of your own demise.” Weems gave Wednesday the rundown of a lifetime of her cataclysm fumbles.
“I didn't think death could make you any more condescending.”
“And your arrogance has only made you more insufferable.”
“Why don't you restore my ability, so we can go our separate ways?” Wednesday asked.
“Your ability is inextricably tied to who you are. You abused it.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Sticks and stones. Except, I have no bones.” Weems joked.
“I'm done being lectured.”
Then wake up..” Weems said.
(Y/n) stood up from the chair and prepared to leave, whispering a few words to Wednesday. Until a very familiar voice catches his ear, Judi Stonehurst.
“Leaving so soon?” He turned and saw who it is, and took a deep breath.
“I brought her some lilies. It's a sign of renewal and fresh starts.”
“The sheriff will be getting an anonymous tip to check out your secret lab.” He said with a scowl.
“I'm afraid all she'll find are boxes of dusty files. My secrets are dead and buried in places no one will ever find them.”
“So you've come to gloat then?”
“Who's gloating? You destroyed my father's life's work. I'm here to make sure that you don't scorch the earth any further.”
“And Tyler?” He asked, he could feel her smug grin shift. “Seems like all your secrets aren't dead and buried, yet.”
“Wednesday Addams?” Another voice called out, a nurse approached from the door. “She’s currently preoccupied but I’ll put them near her bed.” (Y/n) said, and took them but they felt, dead.
“Never delivered dead flowers before.” She said, he raised an eyebrow. “Apologies, I have vision issues, was there a letter with it?” He asked and the nurse nods and opens it for him. “Yes it said You, plus, Enid.. Die Tonight.. signed, Tyler?” She said confused, Jodi and (Y/n) lose their smiles and he quickly stiffens up. “Who gave you these?”
“Oh, a young orderly outside.”
(Y/n) rushed out the door and used his senses, he couldn’t make out faces but the quickly shuffling of feet made the orderly a target, he rushed off after him. As he rounded the corner he halted as his ribs were still injured. He winced and leaned on the wall as the figure disappeared into the shuffling of doctors and nurses. He cursed and walked back, he now knows this is a game of life and death, and he plans on winning.
(Y/n slips back into the room after trying to catch Tyler. He closes the door gently, expecting to spot Wednesday still unconscious. But—
She’s awake. Sitting upright on the edge of the hospital bed, pale but alive. She looks good for a dead woman.
“…Wednesday?” He said, taking a few cautious steps. Relief floods his face, and before he can stop himself, he rushes forward. He drops to his knees at her front and wraps his arms around her, burying his face against her lap. His body shakes as the tension finally breaks — a few tears slipping out beneath his glasses, guilt finally slowly breaking off.
“I thought I lost you. I—I thought he took you from me.”
Wednesday freezes for a second, visibly uncomfortable with the sudden display of emotion. But then, instead of pushing him away, she stiffly raises her hand… and pats his head. Once. Twice. An Awkward, clumsy rhythm, but sincere in her own way.
“You’re getting my gown wet.”
Her words are blunt as expected, but her eyes somehow soften as she studies him — the guilt etched into his head, She lets her hand linger on his hair, the patting turning into something closer to resting her palm there.
“You have nothing to feel guilty for, I’m still here. Unfortunately for everyone else.”
He lifts his head, wiping his face quickly, but she’s already seen. She doesn’t mock him for it. Instead, they sit in silence.
“I.. uh, sorry. Tyler left a note, he’s coming for You and Enid tonight. You two should leave, I can—“
“One of your ribs Is broken, I doubt you can do much yourself. You’d simply serve yourself up. But you are right about one thing, Enid.”
——-
Wednesday enters her Room, with a few bandages on, Enid was shocked to see her and approached.
“Wednesday! I didn't think you were gonna be back for days.” Enid said, and Weems pops up next to Enid, looking over her shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” Wednesday asks Weems.
“I've come to observe you in your natural habitat.” She replies, Enid looks around and, it’s nobody there. Just the two of them, confused she stepped back.
“Uh... I live here, remember? You're probably still sore from your injuries.”
“Pain reminds me that I'm still alive.”
“Your mom said you were staying at the cottage to recuperate.”
“There's no time for that. Tyler's still out there.”
“Sheriff Santiago said he's either dead from the gunshot wounds or long gone.”
“He's alive. He's in Jericho. I need you to pack up and go home.” Wednesday said.
“Leave? Why?”
“He has plans to kill both of us. I'm going to fix it.”
“Fix it? You're the reason he escaped.” Enid points out and Weems shrugs.
“She's got a point.”
“I'm not scared of Tyler. I already took him down once.” Enid said with confidence but Wednesday wasn’t impressed.
“There's not a full moon for another week. You got lucky last time.”
“What do you mean lucky? I still have the scars from that fight.”
“Tyler had you pinned against a tree and was going to rip your throat out until Galpin shot him. I read the police statement.”
“Then I guess it was lucky I showed up and saved your lives. (Y/n) would be more thankful cause Tyler was going to gut him and you as well.”
“She's got you there too.” Weems joins in, putting more pressure on Wednesday. “Tell her the truth about the premonition.”
“Stay out of this.” Wednesday said to Weeks.
“Who are you talking to?” Enid asks.
“No one…”
“Okay, I'm going to blame this conversation on your head trauma.”
“Enid, I'm trying to save you—“
“I don't need you to save me. Is that why you stuck me on lookout duty at Willow Hill? Do you think I'm that helpless?” Enid said, and silence came from Wednesday. And that was all Enid to hear.
“Your silence is deafening.” Enid said, which reads classic Wednesday, and she walked past her.
“Where are you going?”
“To be with my pack. You might think you're the only capable one here, but you can't do everything on your own. That's not how the world works, even for Wednesday Addams.” Enid left, leaving Wednesday defeated, but Weems was there to cheer her up.
“Miss Sinclair for the win.”
Or, not.
“Stay out of my room and my head.” Wednesday stormed off, now she’s alone.
“Tyler declared that Enid and I will die today. He may be a deranged psychopath, but his timing is poetic. If I could choose my last day, El Día de los Muertos would top my wish list. The Day of the Dead has always been my favorite holiday. Macabre decor, graveyard gatherings, and the chance to commune with dead relatives. What's not to like? Unfortunately, this year an unwelcome ghost from my past has turned up uninvited.”
Weems and Wednesday exit to the festivities being prepared, Weems gleams in a ghostly way as she looks around.
“I was curious to see where the Weems memorial was placed. I did sacrifice my life for the school, after all.” She said, Wednesday wasn’t particularly interested in what she wanted, moreso how she could be useful.
“I preferred Goody's cryptic pronouncements to your spectral stalking.”
“I wasn't expecting anything ostentatious. My portrait joining those on the wall of illustrious past principals. Perhaps a bronze bust, maybe even a small memorial shrine with candles. Even a cuddly toy or two.”
“If you're not gonna give me my psychic ability back, you're dismissed.”
“I'm not a genie. I don't grant wishes. If you want your ability back, that starts with an honest self-assessment.” Weems shot back, before the two could further bicker inside Wednesdays mind. The woosh of flames catches them as Dort uses his ability to shoot flames to light candles, he laughs.
“Who on Earth is that?” Weems asked.
“Principal Dort.” Wednesday replied deadpan.
“Dort? Never heard of him. And he certainly wasn't on my list of pre-approved successors.”
“Happy Día de los Muertos!” Dort said, with the most cultural appropriation tone in his voice. Wednesdays eyes would get glued to the back of her skull with his hard shell wanted to roll her eyes.
“This is also our Outcast Day of Remembrance. Following annual tradition, at midnight the remembrance procession will head to the Nevermore cemetery, and pay our respects to all those who have gone before us. Don't worry, it won't be a complete downer because there will also be food trucks!” He said, and students cheer.
“He's a carnival barker masquerading as an educator.” Weems was horrified to see such a person running this school, Wednesday approaches the principal with Weems shadowing her.
“Principal Dort.” She began.
“Wednesday. It is good to see you back among the living on this Day of the Dead.”
“The day is young.”
“If there's anything I can do to help your recovery—“
“Cancel tonight's festivities. Tyler's still out there.”
“According to Sheriff Santiago, he fled town.”
“He hasn't. His threat is real.”
“I appreciate your concern, and your trauma, but we aren't canceling tonight. I've invited several prominent donors, and they will be here to see our community in action.”
“The only thing they'll see is a Hyde ripping them limb from limb. In the remote off-chance Tyler Galpin breaches our wall, we have a school full of Outcasts ready to take him on. Especially Professor Capri.” Dort said, which did raise an eyebrow.
“What does she know about taking on a Hyde?”
“She has a history with them. You aren't alone in this anymore, Wednesday.” Dort said, trying to comfort her but, something felt.. off.
“One more question. How do you plan on honoring the late Principal Weems tonight?” Wednesday asked.
“Honor? I've spent months trying to expunge that woman's memory from every student and every donor's mind. After everything I've done to burnish this school's reputation...” Dort walked off, Weems— in Wednesdays mind was absolutely beside herself, glaring.
“There's your honest assessment.” Wednesday said, and trailed off, she has someone to see.
Professor Capri was finishing up her report on the incident at Willow Hill, and Wednesday had approached.
“Wednesday. Good to see you on your feet. Not many people can say they survived a Hyde attack.”
“Well, you're one of them. Principal Dort told me. Alfie Penn. Name ring a bell?” Wednesday said, which even the name made Capri uncomfortable, visibly she stiffened up at the name, a painful memory ringing in her mind.
“Seems your ex-boyfriend was shot dead after attacking you.” Wednesday continued and Capri was beside herself.
“How dare you snoop in my desk?”
“You met Alfie at an artist colony in Woodstock. He was at the forefront of something titled "violent expressionism," otherwise known as "splatter art." Until his life began to imitate his work. What drove him to try and kill you? Tyler Galpin is coming. I need to learn everything I can about Hydes.” Wednesday says, Carpi somehow buried her rage and calmly replied.
“I never knew Alfie's true nature. Only that we were happy together.”
“You fell in love with a monster.”
“His master was in love with him too. She ordered him to kill me. Luckily it was a full moon so I was able to fight him off. But Alfie accidentally killed her in the process. It was horrible.
“I heard a Hyde can't survive without a master.”
“Males can't. They go crazy without one.
Psychosis, paranoia, rapid physical decline, ultimately premature death. But the females are stronger than the males. More dominant.”
“Has a Hyde ever taken on a new master?”
“I mean, not that I know of. Who would be reckless enough to try?” She said, and saw the look on Wednesdays face, “I... I strongly recommend that you don't entertain the idea.”
“Of course not. ..That would be insane.” Wednesday gave the most uncomfortable feeling and departed, back inside the library, she was researching Thornhills notes, trying to find a plan to control Tyler. Weems was fuming, walking back and forth.
“I gave my life to save that school. And now my entire legacy is being denigrated because I made one bad normie hire. Marilyn Thornhill.”
“I don't do whining, especially from dead people. And it was a monumentally bad hire. She murdered you, remember?”
“Speaking of Thornhill, what are you up to?” Weems asked.
“None of your business.”
“It’s not?” Someone replied, (Y/n), he was approaching from the front entrance.
“Are, you talking to someone?” He asked approaching her. “No.” Wednesday replied. Silence, he shrugs and sits across from her.
“What are you doing with these boxes? They have anything interesting?”
“Nothing you’d find interesting.”
“I’m sure.” He replied in jest, but halted as he looked around.
“What is it, My (Y/n)?” She asked, he raised an eyebrow.
“I sense another presence here. Strange, I don’t expect any ghost to have the guts to haunt you. It's the same feeling I used to have when I’m around Weems.”
“Is it the cloying need to be liked, with the sickly scent of superiority?” Wednesday said, and (Y/n) smirked.
“Funny enough, yeah.”
“Is he serious right now?” Weems said, Wednesday tries not to find amusement in this.
“She had good intentions, saving Nevermore but, went about it as close minded as possible, maybe she was lonely.”
“I was not lonely!” Weems said walking to (Y/n). “I had a very robust social life.”
“It died years before you did.” Wednesday chimed in. Weems, having enough used her power to jerk the book and it slid across to (Y/n). He tilts his head a bit and before Wednesday could grab it, his hand firmly placed itself upon the book.
“Well, whatever spirit is haunting you, Weems or not, really doesn’t want you to read this book, so, you gonna tell me what it is?”
“It’s none—“
“Or, I can take it to Enid and she can tell me.”
“…”
Silence between the two ensues, and Wednesdays jaw tightens. “My Dear, you think I’m a fool, and since I love you, I let you think that. But I can assure you I’m not an idiot, by the way you’re acting, it’s about Tyler.” He said, sensing her like a book.
“This is an organic chemistry formula, could be used to control—“
“Absolutely not.” He said, his mood shifting pretty quick. “I’ve made my point about him before, there is no going back. He is long Gone, he’s tried to kill you twice and Enid, me, I can understand.. but he put you in the hospital, he’s dying. Whatever ridiculous reason you have to keep him alive—“
“It’s not ridiculous.”
“Really? Well I’m all ears then.”
“Since our return, the case has began to escalate, no?”
“Escalate how?”
“The Stalker first, which turned out to be a semi harmless 13 year old, then Willow Hills patent sociopath, she’s been deadly quiet, and now Tyler, don’t you see the situation continues to escalate?” She explained, it, somewhat was true.
“My vision still reveals Enid’s death, after all of this nothing has changed, something must change”
“So you think, if I kill Tyler..” he began, “That something worse would come from it?”
“It’s my working theory, capturing him might be the key to my vision. And once he’s behind bars permanently, then Enid’s fate has to be rewritten.”
“And you think Tyler is the Catalyst to it?”
“I need to be prepared in case he comes back.” Wednesday said, (Y/n) squints but it didn’t matter as Wednesday couldn’t see his eyes. It was even silence between the two, obviously an awkward conversation to have.
“Wednesday, did I ever tell you how I used to dream?” He began, Wednesdays eyes— as cold as they are— had a small hint of curiosity.
“Doubt your dreams are of sunshine and rainbows, but I never considered what a blind man sees in his nocturnal mind.”
“I dreamt of Balor, I was him, again. Killing and pillaging innocent people, burning men and women to death with my gaze and ruling with power. Eventually Balor was killed by Lugus, his Grandson, stabbed into the heart. Sometimes I woke up in a panic, sweating, crying, all that pain felt real for a moment and I thought I was going to die. I realized how evil the other me used to be, that’s when I realized it had to happen, Lugus had to Kill his grandfather or he would have Run Amok for much longer, it’s an evil I understand..” he explained, Wednesday was still silent and he continued.
“Wednesday, I’ve already made peace with this, but make no mistake, I am going to kill Tyler. Your plans have backfired, if not for you, Tyler would still be in prison rotting in Willow Hill, And if not for Jodi killing Galpin, we wouldn’t know, and not for Agnes’ Help, we’d still be in the dark. You are right about one thing; it all leads to this moment, but I cannot let him live. I’m going to End this, And put this nightmare to an end.” He nicely pushed the book back to her.
“With, or without you.” He gave her how he felt and stood and walked off, cane tapping against the old wood and Weems leans in. Before Weems can speak, Wednesday had to ask one last question.
“(Y/n), your devotion is, intoxicating, but do you think you can handle killing him? Crackstone and Thornhill were in the heat of the moment, if Tyler surrendered, would you kill him?”
It was a question he had considered, killing Tyler was his goal, the ultimate goal but what would that mean for him. He rationalized it in his head And he keeps walking.
“He doesn't believe you, and neither do I.
Wednesday, I know your thirst for revenge is unquenchable, but if you try to control this monster, you’ll end up getting much more than you asked” Weems said, a dark premonition of things to come?
————
The Cemetery was lit with lanterns and cloaks trudging to the main crypt, Dort gives a speech as one of the cloaked students wasn’t a student, it was Tyler.
“Tonight, we remember those Outcasts who have gone before us. The famous, the infamous, and those whose shadow only loomed large in the hearts of their loved ones. We honor the Cyclops, the Yeti, and the Minotaur, and all the Outcast tribes that no longer walk the earth. May their memory be a blessing. And may their absence be the bitter taste that reminds us to always stay vigilant.” Dort says, giving the speech.
It seems that a plan was set in motion, his sick eyes searched the area and then spotted Enid, not in cloaks and near a gate, she rushed out and Tyler gave chase, until he was face to face with five students. Bianca, Ajax, Bruno and Divina. Unfortunately for them, they were hopelessly outmatched by the monster before them. The clicks of boots cut though and on the other side of the room, a figure emerged. (Y/n), now sporting a few new knives and a mini crossbow.
Confusion was everywhere as the Nightshades had no idea this was a part of the plan— because it wasn’t.
“You all need to get everyone out.” He said, they all began to speak up but (Y/n) shut them up.
“I said, Go! Get the police do something!” He yelled, the five very reluctantly went the other way, and (Y/n) slowly drew his cane sword.
“I meant what I said, I’d kill you if you got out.”
“Still doing Wednesday’s bidding?”
“No, this is personal.”
“Everything is, all about me, what would you do without me?” Tyler joked and began to mutate.
“Let’s find out.”
Tyler leapt and charged, (Y/n) swings his sword, striking the Hyde across the face — it staggers, but doesn’t fall. Tyler lunges again, claws raking his chest. His coat tears, blood spilling, but he stands his ground. The cuts were skin deep but still hurt.
The Hyde roars and throws him into a row of gravestones. Marble shatters around him, headstones toppling. (Y/n) drags himself up, dirt and blood coating him, pain screams on his side, His breathing is ragged, but his hands never leave his weapon.
The Hyde charges. (y/n) sidesteps at the last second, planting his blade in its side, black ichor spraying across the graves. Tyler screeches, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the earth. Mud swallows him. The Hyde raises a claw, ready to strike down.
(Y/n), choking, jams his crossbow up and fires point-blank into Tyler’s chest. The bolt buries deep, glowing faintly with silver. Tyler reels back, howling, but even injured his size and fury dominate. Tyler seizes him and hurls him into an iron fence. The spikes bend, nearly impaling him. He gasps, clutching his side, but refuses to fall. He turns and runs, getting into the forest and the Hyde begins to chase.
Tyler dashes past Stone after stone, reveals only shadow, only black. His heavy breathing mixes with the sounds of stomping. Lightning briefly illuminates the ruins of toppled graves… but no (Y/n).
Then—two burning yellow eyes flare in the dark. Tyler freezes, heart thundering. The eyes hover, unblinking, locked on him from the pitch-black undergrowth.
Instinct screams. He ducks behind a tree just as a blast of searing energy vaporizes the bark where his head had been, splinters raining across his shoulders. Smoke rises, acrid and hissing in the rain.
The roles flip. The predator becomes prey. Tyler circles, keeping trees between himself and those golden eyes, but every time he peeks out, the eyes are gone. The silence is suffocating. Every snapped twig behind him, every whisper of wind feels like he’s breath on his neck.
Another flash—yellow eyes behind a mausoleum. A shot scorches the stone, scattering shards inches from Tyler’s face. He retreats, deeper into the labyrinth of graves, his confidence bleeding into paranoia. Suddenly, those golden eyes ignite in the dark—then a blast rips through the night.
The beam slams into Tyler’s chest. The Hyde is hurled backwards, smashing through a stone headstone, his roars echoing through the graveyard. The smell of scorched flesh rises with the rain’s steam. He claws at his torso, skin sizzling and blistered from the burn.
“That.. was for Eugene.”
He charges blindly, swiping through trees and ripping graves apart in rage. (Y/n) vanishes into shadow again, ribs aching as he presses against a mausoleum wall. His breathing is shallow, eyes glowing as he waits.
Tyler stops, chest heaving, scanning the night. Another flare of gold. Another searing blast. This time it clips his arm—burning through hide and muscle, sending the limb jerking violently. He SMASHES into a tree to stay standing, claws gouging the bark but the tree collapses down upon him.
“And that.. was for Enid..”
Calmly Stepping from the darkness, steam came from his eyes as he aimed his crossbow, (Y/n) aimed it right at Tyler’s head.
“You had a chance, leave and never come back, and this is the choice you made.” He raised the bow and placed his hand on the trigger.
Until, Wednesday stepped in.
Her silhouette is sharp against the glowing bolt, her black dress soaked, hair clinging to her pale face. She glares at (Y/n), not Tyler.
“Wednesday, move.”
“I’m not, i spoke to my mother—“
“I don’t care! He dies! Move, or I will move you myself.”
“You aren’t going to do that either, you make not think so but I do listen and I know you, you’re a gentleman. A protector… you won’t hurt me and I’m asking you to leave, it seems worse has already come.”
“He’s a killer. He won’t stop. If I end him now, Enid is safe. Wednesday is safe. Everyone is safe. It’s the only way.” Those words ran though his mind, with a snarl he almost moved, but something shocked him, a roar, hard, and he stumbled back The footsteps, the growls, he could make it out: Another Hyde.
(Y/n) stood up to face it but, fighting two would be his end.
“Francoise!” A voice said, (Y/n) turned to the direction, hearting Morticia, the footsteps follow as she approaches.
“We had a deal.” She said.
“What? You just called that thing "Francoise."
“Yes.” She replied, more silence and (Y/n) slowly lowers the crossbow.
“…Is that Tyler's mother?” He asked, and Morticia nods.
“Yes. You and Wednesday freed her from Willow Hill.” She said, which even surprised Wednesday slightly.
“What deal did you make?” He asked her,
“Francois’s gave me her word that she would control Tyler, and they'd leave Jericho forever.”
“And you believe the words of a Hyde?”
“I believe the word of a mother.” Morticia said, (Y/n) quickly turned back to the Hyde, but he was gone. It seems his Vengence wouldn’t be taken, not yet. His face was smudged with bits of blood and dirt. He couldn’t face Wednesday, and walked away.
“Poe said, "There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man". I’ve faced the fragility of human connection so much, that perhaps this love that I feel for Wednesday is the only thing keeping me sane, but even now we defy each other, are we.. truly meant for each other? Then again humans are woefully complicated. Tyler and his mother are now reunited. Will Francoise keep her word and go quietly into the night? Or is she set on a darker purpose? I've kept Enid safe until now, and I have made my point made about Wednesday’s safety. But her fate still lingers, how can I protect what I cannot expect?”
Hi Ornii, I was reading your fic, My Better Bitter Half, and so far I like it. I would really love for Y/N and Enid to be a couple, which is possible now that she broke up with Ajax in Season 2. And could you make it so that instead of being interested in Bruno, she's interested in Y/N?
What do you say?
Ngl I forgot about it, If people want to I will continue it.
Hi there, I've been a huge fan of your fic, Bitterly Beautiful, and I love how the way you wrote your original character, (Y/N) Healy, and I am very fascinated and curious about him and I wanted to get to know him better. If you don't mind me asking, can you make a some sort of biography about him, and descriptions of him(birthplace, birthday, physical description, educational background, languages spoken,social status, hobbies/side hustles, relationships/relatives, powers/abilities, heritage)? Thank you in advance.
No, thank you for reading. I’m still surprised people are enjoying my story and even my own character. I’m glad my work does have some quality to it, funny enough I was actually working on something like this beforehand so I’ll just post it here.
Bakura (My Headcanon Name, yes like Bakura from Yu Gi Oh) Donncha Healy was born on October 31st in Galway, Ireland — a date that would later feel like an omen. Born as one of the Fomorians, a race of ancient Irish beings feared and respected in equal measure. From the start, his life was marked by contradiction — born into wealth, yet destined to be an outcast.
The Healy family built its fortune through the distilling of pure Irish whiskey. For generations, they tended their land, grew their grain, and aged it in barrels cut from Irish oak. To the outside world, the Healys were business titans. Inside, and out.
His childhood was quiet but solitary. Born like the infamous Balor, his eyes were constantly capable of destroying anything he would see, his parents, ever the fools decided the only way to save themselves: Permanently blind the boy, they were unsuccessful and guardianship passed to his aunt, Doriann Healy — a woman of towering stature and presence, taught to hone the power and keep it in safe hands, tutored by the best of the country, he excelled fairly well.
At Nevermore Academy, his reputation preceded him. Fluent in English and Irish, a fanatic for History and Craftsmanship, but having a struggle for any literature. Students whispered of the blind boy whose eyes could kill, and many avoided him. He spoke very little, laughed even less, but listened always. He didn’t have much of a voice, Over time, a few broke through his walls. Enid Sinclair was the first — the one who saw him as more than a boogeyman. To him, she became a sister. And then there was Wednesday Addams, who mirrored his own uncouth character , yet forced him to face questions he preferred to bury. With her, trust came slow, but love grew fairly strongly..
Outside of his constant pestering of his girlfriend, he found solace in quieter things: carving wood by touch, feeding crows, cooking meals that reminded him of home. These acts did not erase the rage or grief within him, but they reminded him that he is more than that. in a way, a person.
The same with you reader. You are a person, we’re all human. And we’re more than we can ever imagine.
Wednesday was continuing her investigation, searching a local cemetery’s burial site and is trying to come up with some connection.
“Nothing stirs the senses like a funerary urn.” She said, and someone was watching.
“The only people who deserve to be buried in this dump are the maintenance staff.” Wednesday quickly turned around to an old woman, refined still and with silver hair like the fading moon. a true smile crept along her face.
“Grandmama, you're here.”
“My granddaughter calls up for dirt on a competitor? You practically dared me to show up.”
“I knew you'd be working weekends.”
“Death never takes a holiday, so neither do I. Why are you interested in this Patricia Redcar?” She asked.
“She's part of my ongoing investigation. Look. I found all of these obituaries. All Outcasts, all patients at Willow Hill.” They're all cremated and buried here.” Wednesday shows her the obituaries, all faded but still legible to those who can read.
“What does this have to do with you?”
“I saw a vision of my roommate's death. Somehow it's all connected.” Wednesday explained and her grandmama sighed.
“Please give her my card. I offer a friends and family discount on all funerals and caskets.”
“If I had my psychic ability back, I would have solved this already. My mom's going to burn Goody's book.”
“No crying over spilled ashes. You know what I say about feelings.”
“Bury them deep inside and allow them to slowly eat away at you.” Grandmama opens one of the Urns, looking at the ashes.
“Shoddy work, I must say. Lumpy. Hmm. That's odd. Here, just like I taught you.” She said, and hands it to Wednesday who takes a turn at the scent.
“Overtones of deer. Hints of squirrel and raccoon. And a subtle finish of Shih Tzu.” She said, which was very impressive.
“Very good. What's missing?”
“Human..”
Suddenly, a menacing caw came and a crow quickly dove and snatched the obituaries off the stone stool.
“My evidence!”
Wednesday chased the bird though the graveyard, ducking limbs and leaping past tombstones but they landed upon the shoulder of the mysterious Avian on a bike, they took off with the evidence, leaving Wednesday in even more of a negative. Wednesday had to return to her grandmother empty handed.
“A good run through the tombstones always makes you feel alive. Was that crow luring you into a murderous trap? Varicose and I had wagers.”
“The Avian that controls them just stole all my evidence. I've rattled their birdcage.” Wednesday said.
“The plot thickens. What's next?”
“Buy this cemetery and find out who authorized those cremations.”
“Why would I do something so rash?”
“Once you tell my mother you're finally getting me into the family business, all her childhood insecurities will come bubbling to the surface.”
“Well played, my dear. You know exactly how to worm your way into my cold, desiccated heart.”
“Usually an obituary is the end of the story...not the beginning of an even stranger one. Who faked those patients' deaths? Who is Lois? And how was all of this connected to Enid's impending death? The sooner I get answers, the sooner I can save Enid... Who’s currently—“
(Y/n) opens the door to Wednesdays dorm, walking past Enid and Bruno who were lip locked. It obviously startles them out of it as she sees him walk to Wednesdays desk.
“Didn't you see the scrunchie on the door?
That's kind of universal code for "do not disturb."
(Y/n) turns and tilts his head at her with an expression of ‘really’ on it. She sighs and Bruno pipes up. “I-I mean—“ he starts.
“Hello Bruno, Goodbye Bruno.” (Y/n) said looking for something.
“What are you looking for?”
“Mail, turns out I—“ he stopped immediately, he turned his attention to Enid who looked confused. He slowly grabbed a pencil from the desk and walked a step or two.
“Uh, are you okay?” Enid asked, (Y/n) then dropped the pencil. The sound echoed and he made out a figure, he quickly turned and grabbed the air, or so it seemed.
“What did I tell you?” He said. The person was Agnes he was grabbing, he dropped the girl and she landed on her feet with a rough smile.
“Very, perceptive, I expected no less from Wednesday’s boyfriend.”
“How long have you been here?” Enid said, grossed out.
“Somewhere between...” Agnes makes very annoying smooching noises. “I'm definitely scarred.” Enid, who’s have absolutely enough stood up and stormed over, claws ready.
“Let's go then, Stay out of my room, you little creep!”
“Hey.” (Y/n) gets in between the two. “Bruno can you please leave?” He asked, which he did, awkwardly.
“That was strike two, what are you doing in here?” He said.
“I was trying to take mundane tasks off your plate so you can focus on the case. Like picking up your mail.” She said and hands him a letter. He took it and she disappeared again, he sighed and turned to Enid. “Can you read this for me?” He asked.
“Who’s it from? Some creep?” He asked and Enid read the name.
“Aunt Doriann.” Few things could truly embarrass the Warlock of Nevermore but that, did. A look of true pain hits his face. Enid opens the letter and begins to read.
“(Y/n), my troublesome boy.
I’ve heard of your trials at Nevermore, though no story can capture the truth of you. Word travels faster than sense in these circles.”
She pauses, eyes flicking up to him with a little smile.
“She’s always been poetic.”
“I write to tell you I am coming. Family should not be scattered shadows in this world — and you’ve lived too long with only whispers of us. The children — all twenty-three of them — are eager, though don’t expect them to sit still. You’ll remember Davey, no doubt. He insists you were his favorite, though you hardly remembered his name half the time. Unfortunately he’s been astray and it seems he’s made way to Willow Hill.”
Enid stops, her voice catching in a laugh.
“Hold fast, my nephew. You carry our blood, and though you walk with darkness, you are not alone in it. — Doriann.”
“You’re aunts coming?”
“Whose Aunt is coming?” Wednesday finally arrived, seeing how distraught (Y/n) was. “I presume this isn’t the family reunion you’re looking forward to.”
“She’s, a lot to deal with. She hasn’t met you yet either which I REALLY wanted to save until Christmas break. But it’s fine! If I leave right now, I can catch the last bus out of Jericho before she gets here. She won’t find me.”
“Uh… about that…” Enid said, She flips the letter around, showing the date.
“This was delivered three days ago.”
“Then why get it just now— crows. Damn.”
There’s a beat. Then—
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps shakes the hallway outside. Bakura freezes mid-step, like prey that’s just heard the hunter.
The dorm door creaks ominously, the handle turning. Then, slowly, the door opens—
A massive figure ducks under the frame, straightening to her full 6’6” height. Aunt Doriann towers in the doorway, broad-shouldered in her immaculate forest-green suit, hair hiding part of her face like a shadow. Towering near 7 foot the woman stood, A rich, deep bronze-brown complexion with natural undertones that glow warm in light. Jet-black Hair, wild and heavy, usually falling in waves across her face and covering her eyes unless she brushes it back.
But then—Doriann’s whole face lights up. She beams, throwing her arms wide.
“Enid, my sweet girl!”
Before anyone can react, she sweeps into the room, scooping Enid up in a rib-cracking bear hug and spinning her slightly off the ground.
“Auntie Doriann! Oh my gosh, it’s been forever!”
Doriann finally releases Enid from her crushing hug, holding her by the shoulders with both massive hands. “You’ve grown even brighter, Enid. Look at you! Just like a second daughter to me.””
Enid beams, glowing from the praise.
“Aww, Auntie… you always say that.” Enid smiles, (Y/n) was slowly backing away. He tries to edge toward the door. But Doriann’s head swivels like a predator locking onto prey. He freezes. The air seems to drop ten degrees.
“…Hi, Auntie.”
Doriann steps closer, her sheer size forcing him to crane his neck up. For a long, tense moment, she looms, face unreadable. Then, without warning, she pulls him into a rib-crushing hug, lifting him slightly off the ground.
“My boy! You think you can run from me? Not when I’ve crossed half the country to see you!” She sets him down, patting his shoulders affectionately with surprising gentleness.
“You’ve lost weight. Are they feeding you properly here?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Auntie! I make sure he eats.” Enid points out, albeit a bit smugly. Wednesday has been watching the entire scene from her desk, eyes narrowed but amused. She finally speaks.
“I must admit, I’ve never seen you look so small. It’s refreshing.” Wednesday said, Doriann turned to the little nightmare.
“And you must be the infamous Wednesday Addams! The girl my nephew won’t shut up about!”
She strides forward in two heavy steps, the floor creaking. Before Wednesday can prepare, Doriann’s massive hand slams against her back in a “friendly” pat that sounds more like a punch. Wednesday actually jolts forward, her braids bouncing.)
“If your intent was to realign my spine, congratulations. I believe I am now two inches shorter.”
“A real firecracker, I like her. Anyway, it’s—“
“Davey I know, if it’s just him…” (Y/n) starts but can sense his aunts silence.
“You.. you didn’t bring my cousins, did you?” He asked, and as if on queue, A window shatters. The four of them step out to the balcony to chaos. One of his cousins, a three-foot tall leprechaun sprints out with a stolen tray of cookies, cackling. They weren’t your comical big bearded gold hoarders, the old Irish lore kind—sharp teeth, wiry frame, gleaming eyes, ancient mischief in their bones.
Another cousin is riding a goat through the courtyard like a war horse.
Two more are dangling upside down from a flagpole, badly heckling passing Nightshades. (Y/n) pinches his nose and turns to his Aunt. “Aunt Doriann I think it’s best if you round up my cousins, I doubt they’d survive not getting set on fire.”
“What, are those?” Wednesday asked.
“Leprechauns. Not the lucky charms kind either, actual ones. That’s Toby, Chara, Pip, no wait that’s Pip, Ike, No.. that’s not Ike that’s Karl, point is.. there’s a lot, except Davey. Aunt Doriann, you should probably apprehend them.”
“Of course, besides, they’ll be fine. Now I have to meet with this little strange man, Dort I think. Take care now.” Doriann stepped out of the balcony, boomed to the door and exited by creeping under it. (Y/n) sighs. “Family.” He muttered, “The Avian is aware of our investigation, we don't have much time. All of our answers are in the Willow Hill asylum.” Wednesday said, (Y/n) turned to him.
“I see, well.. who do you have in mind? Busting Davey out is important.”
“Well, I know just the lunatic to get them for me.” She said, the two begin to walk to find their contact, well Wednesdays Contact.
“You’ve probably wondered how the Healys live so comfortably.”
“I assumed it was because you’re Irish. Isn’t misery your natural export?”
“Close. Whiskey. Healy whiskey is our crown jewel, Been in my family for centuries. The fields are ours, the barrels are ours, the recipes passed down with blood. Our barrels are carved from old Irish oaks, Ash, Scots Pine, Rowan, older than Nevermore’s walls, each one soaked with stories, and a touch of the old magic. Quite lucrative if you know who it sell it to.”
He taps his cane lightly against the ground as they walk, listening to the sound bounce back to him.
“Kings, rebels, warlords — they’ve all tasted it some before the end of their lives. Legend has it, King Arthur himself enjoyed it, granted that was in the Sixth century so food really didn’t have much of a flavor, he could just be a bit biased.”
“Your family makes liquid therapy. No wonder they’re rich.”
“I wouldn’t call it that; but we can name out one after you, Think about it. A deep black bottle, maybe add raspberries? aged in oak till it bites back: Wednesdays Bite. Willows Wail? Eh? Eh?” He smirked.
“I’m not giving you my trademark.” She said flatly. “Besides, why would you even do that?”
“Obviously to fund your novel.” He replied as they walk up a flight of stairs back to the old tower. “To, what?” She asked.
“To fund your book? Enid told me that your publisher said no, and called you a basket case— jury’s still out on that but— I thought, so why not publish it yourself? The world deserves to see your eerie and morbid art, and I— as your partner, would do anything to see your nightmare come true.” He smirked, for a moment Wednesday forgot herself, and let herself feel.
“I tend not to consider your feelings much, but… thank you, truly.” She said. “But for now, we save Enid’s life.”
The two reach the top of the tower and a shadowy figure awaits, (Y/n) turned to Wednesday and back to the figure. He prepared for what’s to come, but saw who it was. The bald, pale creep of a man.
“You rang?” He said with a chuckle, Uncle Fester.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice.” Wednesday said.
“For my favorite niece, I'm always a lurk away.”
“Your only niece.” (Y/n) points out, “And my Favorite Nephew!” Fester said, to (Y/n).
“Pugsley?” (Y/n) asks, but obviously he wasn’t talking about Pugsley.
“Like I said, favorite nephew!”
“I need you to get into Willow Hill.”
“Last time I did that was for your mother. She wanted me to check on her sister.”
“Aunt Ophelia was in there? When?”
“Oh, years ago. She'd flown the coop by the time I got committed.!I stuck around for a few weeks. They had a top-notch electroshock therapist, Igor. He ran a gulag in Siberia. He really knew how to rattle the old cerebral cortex.” He said, Fester turned around as he heard an unease. And fired, a bolt of lighting hits someone. Agnes, she reappeared in a Fritz.
“Nobody sneaks up on me, kid. She with you?” Fester asks the Kids.
“This is my stalker. I turned her into an unpaid expendable gofer.”
“Huh. I'm a big fan of child labor. A stampede of chupacabras makes less noise than you. Learn to hold your breath, and walk on the seams of the floorboards.”
“Thanks for the pro-tip.” Agnes began, and showed Wednesday a blueprint. “I took the liberty of getting you the Willow Hill blueprints.” She said, Wednesday then turned to Fester.
“I need you to find Lois. Could be a patient, could be a doctor. Just make sure the head shrink, Dr. Fairburn, can't trace you back to me.”
“Oh, don't worry. If there's an expert on getting committed to a loony bin, it's me.” Fester leaves and the Two walk off, Wednesday trying to ignore Agnes.
“Maybe we’re asking the wrong question. ‘Lois’ might not even be a person at all.”
“Then what? A phantom? A code name? You’re grasping.”
“Or—hear me out—‘Lois’ might not be a name at all. Could be an acronym...”
“An acronym.”
“You’d be surprised. Governments, secret societies, even cults—they love hiding big ideas behind little letters. Could stand for a place, a project, a person. Hell, maybe even a punishment.”
“Hm, you couldn’t have brought this up with fester?”
“I was considering it, but I didn’t want to send him on a goose chase, in case Lois IS a person, then he’d be running around with his head cut off, which also seems on brand for him. Anyway, our Next move?”
“I have Grandmama looking into the burial sites for the Outcasts.” Wednesday said and (Y/n) Fake gasps.
“Le gasp! Abuela is here and you didn’t tell me?”
“She’s not your Grandmama.”
“Well your father says I’m family, so, as far as I’m concerned she’s my Grandamama as well.”
“I could care less, besides, our goal is to discover Lois, I’ll return to my mother to confront her about Aunt Opehelia.”
“My Aunt might know more about this, I’ll speak with her.” (Y/n) said, the two split apart and leave, The last rays of sunlight bleed across the Nevermore gates. A black carriage, old but well-kept, stands there. Its wheels creak faintly as two massive, spectral horses snort cold mist into the air. Their eyes glow faintly green, their bodies half-flesh, half-shadow. Aunt Doriann, towering and broad-shouldered, is calmly unloading a trunk with one hand as though it weighed nothing. (Y/n) approaches, cane tapping against the cobblestones.
“I’ve been hearing things, Auntie. About Avians. The crows, ravens… creatures tied to Nevermore. What do you know about them?” He asked, Doriann pauses, brushing her long hair back from her eyes. For once, her tone grows serious, even reverent.
“In the old country, the druids believed birds carried the souls of the dead. Ravens, crows, even owls — they weren’t just messengers,They were guides. They said a crow on your windowsill was your ancestor, come to watch you… or warn you.”
“And the druids?”
“They claimed they could slip their spirits into the bodies of such creatures. To see through their eyes, hear through their feathers. But the price… was always a piece of themselves. A fragment of their soul left behind, never to return.”
“So, An Avian would be transferring their Spirit into the birds to attack?”
“Moreso.”
“Which means they’d need to be nearby to do so..”
“Correct.”
“And you don’t know any Avians?”
“Besides Augustus Stonehurst?” She said, and a light clicks in (Y/n)’s head.
“Augustus Stonehurst?”
“Old Normie used to teach here, don’t know what happened to em.”
“Does, did he have any children? Or a wife?”
“His wife died before he got to Nevermore.’But he had a little girl.”
“What’s her name?”
“Don’t remember, Joey, Jay? Something like that. Had to meet the old bastard years ago.” Doriann said, (Y/n) sighs. “I see, but.. he ran Willow Hill?”
“I think so, you got somethin planned, don’t ya?”
“Don’t I always?” He replied, and began to walk off.
A Storm begins to Brew outside Nevermore. (Y/n) who still shouldn’t be in the girls dorm, sits across as Enid looks out the window, Wednesday plays the Game and Agnes fan girls.
“Weather's turning ugly.” Enid says.
“Capri has a music therapy class tonight at Willow Hill. She's our way in and out. Her class lasts 45 minutes. That's our window. Thing is already connected with Fester's contact on the inside. She knows where he's being held. Thing will lie low until I've secured Fester, and make his own way out. There's a vehicle inspection at the gate.
Agnes, I need you to distract the guard so I can get inside. I'll be in position before you arrive. After I rendezvous with Fester's contact, I'll extract him from his cell, then go find Lois.” Wednesday said, (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.
“And what about me?” Enid asks, “That includes me too.” He says.
“What's my part of the plan?” Enid asked, obviously hurt. “Do you even want to be my friend anymore?”
“That has never been in question. You're both on lookout.”
(Y/n) and Enid were very unhappy with that, (Y/n) stepping up.
“Like Hell I am, if Tyler’s in there, I’m not leaving you alone.”
“I can handle Tyler, besides you saw the prison. He’s incapable of escape.”
“I figured we’d be a bit more mission-critical.”
“You are. You see, if I get caught, I need someone to anonymously tip off Sheriff Santiago that something is going down at Willow Hill. Trust me, this time.”
Wednesday and Agnes left to prep, leaving the two alone. (Y/n) was sitting there, much of his mind is swirling with thoughts, Fairburn, Tyler, Enid’s Death. All could be avoided, or all could come into fruition. He tapped his foot as time went on, time he didn’t have, he stood up and turned to Enid.
“Enid, I’m going after Wednesday.”
“But she said—“
“I know what she said, and since it’s a dumb ass decision, I’ve elected to ignore it.” He said, “but you shouldn’t…” he turned and knelt down.
“Enid, listen to me, I.. I think something bad is going to happen so, please. Stay here.”
“Why? I can’t handle myself I’m not, it’s not like last time.” She said, (Y/n) nods.
“I..I know, but please just listen to me. I’d never take the chance of you getting hurt. And if something happened to Wednesday I— and if I could stop it, I’d never forgive myself.” He looked down, not able to face Enid who sighed.
“I understand, you shouldn’t probably make sure she doesn’t get herself in trouble again.”
“I will.” She gave a halfhearted smile and he walked over to the gate, he calmly stepped closer as the guards began to rush over, rain, hard rain began to pour. He leans to begin to sneak though but heard the sound of rushing water.
“How did you blow up the toilet?!” One yelled, (Y/n) didn’t even want to know and used the chaos to take a running stance and sprint. He leapt, using his cane to extend his grip to the top of the gate and climbed up, he landed on the grass and made his way inside.
Wednesday creeps along the damp cold concrete hall, her flashlight cutting slivers of light through the darkness. She freezes when a faint scuff echoes behind her. Her eyes narrow.
“…I told you to stay back.”
From the shadows, (Y/n) steps forward, cane in one hand. Wednesday was less than enthusiastic.
“And I told you — leaving you to sneak into an asylum alone is a terrible idea.”
“Oh yes, because dragging my blind, loud, overly stubborn partner along is so much better for stealth.”
“Don’t need stealth when you’ve got me. Besides, you think I’d actually sit outside twiddling my thumbs while you waltz into a nest of lunatics? Not happening.”
Wednesday exhales sharply, visibly annoyed, but underneath it all… she isn’t truly angry. More conflicted. She keeps walking, and he falls into step beside her.
“You’re reckless. And insubordinate.”
“Court Martial me later, let’s get Fester.” He said, the duo slowly creep around, and spot the room fester is in, and something in the corner. They open the door and fester smiled, Wednesday quickly undoes his straight jacket.
“Less than ten seconds! That might be a family record.” He said, but the other patient housed here thought otherwise, the Zombie that was at the camp grounds, Pugsleys. It reaches to take a bite of Wednesday and Fester Zaps him.
“Play nice.”
“We don't have much time. We need to find Lois.”
The trio head off, while the area was creepy at night, it was perfect for (Y/n). The sound echo location keeps his sense of hearing concise. They slowly all come to a door, (Y/n) turning to Wednesday.
“Maintenance room.” Wednesday said. “Thanks, so, locked?”
“Five, one, nine, seven, one.” Fester said, and puts in a code. The lock bellows open with a clank.
“How'd you know the code?” Wednesday asked.
“Trash-talking parrot.” Fester replied, the two look at him for a moment and fester shook his head.
“Don't ask.” He said, the two decided to listen and simply followed in, and it wasn’t a maintenance room.
Along a path of concrete stairs lead to a large underground room. Both walls having doors leading to chambers within.
“This place is full of surprises.”
“Look at the initials.” Fester points out, Wednesday looks up and reads the words.
"Long-term Outcast Integration Study."
“Lois.” (Y/n) said, “Guess I was right, It's a secret program.” He said, the trio go to the first door and open it, they came across woman, her head down, until she looked up, and back up to them, her eyes were massive, an uncomfortable size, endless void staring into them.
“I think that's Patricia Redcar.” Wednesday said, And that's Julian Meiojas. I recognize them from their obituaries. Except neither is six feet under. Their deaths must have been faked so they could be kept as living experiments.”
“This is what Galpin was afraid would happen to Tyler.”
“Hm, I see.. and. davey?” He calls out, (Y/n) hears scratching and rushes to one, he opens the gate and Wednesday and fester see a, thing, around three and a half feet tall, Built like someone who spends all day working with tools — knobby hands, strong forearms. His movements are quick, jittery, like a squirrel that might bolt at any moment.
“Davey!” He called out, the gremlin turns and makes a few sounds that the two can’t comprehend.
“Mo chol ceathrair! Ní chreidim é! Tháinig tú chugam!” Davey said, (Y/n) leans on the Door.
“Ná bíodh eagla ort. Ní imeoidh mé gan tú. Ní ligfidh mé do dhuine ar bith tú a thógáil uaim arís.” He replied, Wednesday shook her head a bit. The sudden caw of a crow forced them to turn around and face the shadowy figure, their true nemesis. The mysterious figure finally removed her cowl and its, Jori, the main administrator of Willow Hill!
“So you are the new face of mad doctors.” Wednesday began.
“You do realize that Fairburn doesn't roll off the tongue as nicely as Frankenstein. There's nothing mad about what I'm doing.!Fairburn works for me.” She began.
“I recruited her to be the public face of this institution and continue my father's work.” She explained, and (Y/n) stepped up.
“You're Augustus Stonehurst's daughter. That's how you knew about the secret passages at Nevermore, “I have very fond memories of my father's time at Nevermore. He loved Outcasts.”
“That, that doesn’t make sense. Augustus was a Normie, just like his Wife, you’re an Avian…” (Y/n) said, and Jodi smirked.
“Imagine being able to extract their abilities and share it with Normies.” She began, and an uncomfortable silence went though the room, (Y/n) gripped his cane tighter.
“You mean steal them and exploit them, you did this to these people?” He said.
“This is a basement bargain attempt at Dr. Moreau.” Wednesday chimes in.
“I did more than just attempt. I am living proof. I was born a Normie, and thanks to my father's work, my beautiful black-winged friends obey my every whim.”
“Experimenting on his own daughter. That's twisted. Even by my own sick standards.”
“I volunteered! My father and I were a team. He needed a subject. I wanted to be part of his legacy.”
“Until he lost his mind?”
“He wanted to be a DaVinci, but his body couldn't take it.” She explained, (Y/n) twisted the cane and drew his blade slightly.
“I suppose that’s unfortunate for you, you’ll wind up MUCH worse than him.” He took one step before She drew her gun.
“I’m sorry Mr Healy, but I believe I have to disagree with you on that.” She cocks the hammer back, and (Y/n) sighs.
“Well, if you can't bring Icarus to the sun, bring the sun to Icarus. Right, Fester?” Wednesday said, Fester nods, using his lighting he blasts, the impact knocks all of them back and finally the gun out of her hand, unfortunately festers little Shock fried the Buildings Systems. The doors open as the monsters held, and Davey, finally escape, the group watch as the inmates turn their attention towards her, but unfortunately that includes all the others up top.
“As much as I wanna watch them pluck her feathers, we gotta vamoose.” Fester said, “Fine.” Wednesday and company rush out, expecting freedom but what they did find was the regulars losing their minds. Fester splits off from the duo and rush to the window.
Before Wednesday can retort, a massive shadow blocks their way forward. Tyler steps into the corridor, his face twisted, eyes gleaming with an unholy hunger.
“Leaving so soon?”
(Y/n) immediately surges forward, his irises flashing, energy sparking in the air around his fingertips — preparing to vaporize Tyler without hesitation.
“Not this time. You die here!”
But before he can release the blast, the alarms blare to life. A deafening, piercing siren shriek rattles through the asylum. The sound cuts deep into his senses like glass shards, his face twisting in agony. He clutches his head, staggering, his vision swimming.
Tyler seizes the moment, lunging forward. With brutal strength, he smashes into his chest, sending him crashing backwards. (Y/n) tumbles down a flight of metal stairs, his body slamming against the steps with sickening force. He lands hard, dazed and bleeding.
After a few moments he rises, shaking off the potential concussion and bleeding from his temple. (Y/n) drags himself up, searching for the cane that followed him down the flight of Stairs disoriented, stumbling through an emergency exit door.
The cold night air and pounding rain hit him like a wall. He staggers into the downpour, clutching his side, barely aware of where he is until the sound of shattering glass breaks though the silence, he hears it barely to the front of Willow hill and the sound of the rain muffled his voice.
“Wednesday? Wednesday!” He called out. But the sudden patter of rain muffled his ears. He turns his head, focusing — and there, just ahead of him, a shape half-buried in mud. Pale skin. Dark braids. Her. For a moment, it doesn’t feel real. It feels spectral.
His cane slips from his hand, clattering uselessly into the mud. His breath shakes as he staggers forward, hands trembling. Every step feels heavier than the storm itself. He kneels, touches her cold cheek — and flinches as though struck.
He lowers his forehead against hers, clutching her body like it could vanish from his grip. The grief crashes over him — hollow, sick, unbearable. His mouth opens but only silence comes out at first. Then, finally—
“Wake up… please. Yell at me, mock me, anything. Just don’t do this to me…”
The storm rages on, drowning out his words. But then something changes — his sorrow twists. His fists clench, blood mixing with the rain, someone did this, he knows who. As his mind wandered to the build rage in his heart, the sounds of sirens creep up behind him, his pain uncontrollable. The shades of blue and red dance along his back as guns are aimed at him. Wednesday dreamt, her mind falling into the dark as it all slowly is drowned in the dark.
“I've always dreamed of looking death in the face. But in my final moments, all I hear is (Y/n)’s words ringing in my ears. Maybe I have made everything worse.”
