Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Enid finds herself utterly and completely lost in the damn woods during one of Nevermore’s Halloween Horror Haunts. She should have known forming a triad with the recently wed Tanakas was a stupid idea, and why did she even think going to a haunt would be any fun anyway? She’s a literal werewolf for fuck’s sake. Nothing can sneak past her heightened senses! Well apart from her roommate that is.

A number of hours walking through brush and trees later she emerges into a beautiful well-kept orchard. The elegant trees almost pulling her in with the sight of ripe, blood red fruits -her absolute fucking favorite- pomegranates. She takes about as much as she could fit in her bag, and one more to snack on the go, and treks on.

Eventually she stumbled into a familiar lining of stone wall, the ruins of Crackstone’s crypt, she groans out loud into the abyss, of course she’d find the worst way to get back home, and although the memory had not been the most pleasing, she had at least memorized the way back from here. How could she not? Joseph fucking Crackstone woke up in this smelly dusty place using Wednesday’s blood and chose violence upon her school. She sure as hell would do the same to him every chance she got.

Enid made it her (absolutely secret) personal mission to destroy the area bit by bit whenever she wolfed out. And if anyone ever asked, she’d blame nature taking its course. Today she opts to aggressively throw her leftovers from snacking right on his name plate. She shoots, and scores!

“Heck yeah!” Happily skipping the rest of the way home, and opening up another pomegranate to celebrate, leaving behind a trail of bloody fruit innards being too happy to notice.

Wednesday later finds these traces while walking Rubrum Sanguinem, her pet scorpion. She allows it to snack on a few on the ground. Such a sight is a woefully reminder of her least hated area of their home estate. She decides to visit on the morrow.

The goth upon arriving at her shared quarters with Enid, spots a blur of color in her vision before being assaulted with the deadliest thing she had ever seen in her life, suddenly the beating organ trapped within her chest deigns to do its job, it utterly stops at what she sees in front of her:

“Howdy roomie!” Enid Sinclair, looking jarringly like that fateful night, dirt caking her boots, twigs and leaves scattered amongst her colored attire, and claws yet to be unsheathed from the adrenaline of a fight.

But this time was different, this time she was smiling. A red substance seemed not to ooze from scars of her own, but from whatever it is she bit with those canines so on proud display. She stands in front of her as if she’d just come back from hunting down the devil himself.

Murderous confidence suits her. Wednesday blinks and wills her body to normalcy, embarrassed with her body’s inability to remain unafflicted with sights of blood and gore. Although she finds it odd how her heart had forgotten to beat at such a display. She’s an Addams for goodness’s sake, she can handle an unhinged display from a werewolf bathed in nauseating colors and forest muck. Wednesday closes the door behind her.

“Good evening, Enid, I presume you’ve just come from a successful hunt?” She states, and walks past the girl to set down her latest project beside her typewriter on the dark wooden desk, and sits on her favorite, most uncomfortable chair. Enid follows.

“Well technically I went out for a haunt not a hunt.” The blonde leans on the dark wood, partially sitting on the ancient piece of furniture, an heirloom passed on to all deranged writers of the Addams clan. Wednesday had long grown to stomach the presence of the girl's colors upon her most precious belongings. She continues to sort her desk as the other watches with interest.

“The haunt was designed to strike fear into prey, to activate the flight response within weaklings and strengthen their survival instincts.”

“Sooo?” This causes the raven to furrow a brow. Wednesday glances up at her from her work slightly irked.

“Far be it for me to dictate your nature, but is it not already established that you are not and never have been weak?” Enid considers with a tilt of her head and rebuts;

“But like, I just wolfed out so, I dunno, I don’t think I’m that strong?”

Desk now organized and neat, Wednesday slams a fist on its clear surface and faces the other girl to fully make her point.

“Enid I do not like repeating myself so let me explain in a way you cannot rebut. You do not belong in the haunt, you are not any of the hunted, you are not prey, no, that is incorrigible.” She scrunches her nose at her own words.

“You are so woefully bright that not a single person isn’t called to your flame, only to be consumed and burnt to ash upon your verdict. It is virtually impossible for you to hide it, and rightfully so”

“Your natural strength is testament in and of itself, for none have bested you since that night. I’d argue you don’t need to wolf out to beat the whole werewolf population of this school in single hand to hand combat. I know you’ve trained yourself well enough to do so before.” Enid is surprised the other girl knows this, despite her title of gossip queen, she’d always preferred to keep that secret to herself, werewolf packs operate on a strength-based patriarchy after all, and she'd never wanted to be at the top of that.

“Lastly your wit, Enid, no other werewolf in this school has ever tried harder than you to succeed, none of them had to, they get a pass by just being. You on the other hand had to do everything in your power to keep your place in this school, in your wretched family, and here you are, absolutely outstanding.” The smaller girl stands from her seat and reaches behind the werewolf who’d gone so still from the sudden movement you could balance, like, 7 rocks on her head.

“You, Enid Sinclair, are an apex predator of the hunt, never let it be said that you are or ever have been weak.” Enid can’t help but stare up at her, this girl with words as sharp as a rapier and blunt as a baseball bat.

“Now rid your face of any evidence of murder you may or may not have partaken. Although the color suits you woefully well, I'd rather not be called upon by that imbecile of a sheriff again so soon.” Wednesday leans back with a handkerchief offered to the other girl.

As most of Nevermore’s outcast population know, Enid Sinclair has always been a chatterbox. A lot of the time, you’d only get about half of the topic because the girl had a personal best of about 20 words per second. No one could get her to shut up if they tried, and yet Wednesday Addams had once again rendered her speechless, it's becoming a habit they both find.

Enid basks in the honesty of Wednesday Addams just for a while longer, before it becomes unacceptable to continue on.

“Thankyou, for the, um, nice compliments and, hanky.” She manages to mumble as she casts her eyes to the offering to accept it. The other scoffs.

“I am an Addams Enid, I do not say ‘nice compliments’ I speak only of the truth as I see it.” Wednesday leaves her at the desk to rummage through a dusty nightstand beside her onyx bed.

Enid considers the thread count of the offer handkerchief before deciding she’d be worse off staining a monochrome hankie with blood red pomegranate juice than being stained with her actual blood from the ire of her monochrome roommate. The silence is comforting, Enid watches as her roommate brings ink cartridges to refill her almost fossilized typewriter. Wednesday sits down once again and leans over her treasured relic, when suddenly blank ink splatters on the girl’s face.

Enid doesn’t even bother holding in a laugh. Mildly distraught, the inked girl orders her to leave her alone for the next two hours with scrunched eyebrows and an adorable pout. Enid just smiles at her embarrassment and offers the hanky back as a form of atonement, takes her bag, and informs the Addams of her venture into the dormitory kitchenette to prepare, what she says to be, ‘A taste of the heavens’ to share with her friends before leaving the room.

Wednesday rolls her eyes and rubs off the ink with her bloody handkerchief, surprised to find that instead of a rich iron scent, she finds it smells sweet and somewhat familiar.

The next day Wednesday had heard no hide nor wretched blonde hair of her roommate since her late night of concoction. The wolf might have slept over at Tanaka’s after which, so she leaves it well enough alone. Deciding to leave a note on her desk to announce her reason for departure she leaves Thing to feed and look after Rubrum, the newly hatched Warhammer that she is.

Lurch arrives shortly to take her home. Getting on the slated black family car, Wednesday can’t help but feel a mounting sense of foreboding, the closer they get to her homestead.

“Infuriating. Leave me.” Used to the minor consequence of her being, she tuts at the whispers attempting to pierce through her mind. She then proceeds to meditate for the remaining journey, in a seated corpse position for better posture of course.
_____

To evade the incessant smothering from her parents and brother, Wednesday carefully pushes the centuries old oakwood doors of their mansion. Only to find it empty and herself alone once again. Which is to say she is slightly unnerved but quite glad at the prospect of lasting peace of mind.

Lurch passes her holding onto her luggage with a groan, as if agreeing to her thoughts.

“You have my gratitude, Lurch. I will be heading to the Woods.” She announces as she leaves.

_____

Amongst all that had transpired within her two-year-stay at Nevermore, every tarot reading completed, shade whisper leaned into, and every single life string she’d studied end to end, Wednesday Addams would have never predicted the scene before her, at the heartwood of the Addams Residence; her family happily having a picnic with Nevermore’s finest bunch of idiots.

“Wednesday’s home!!” Any chance of escape has been entirely eradicated with her brother’s proclamation and lightning reflexes, effectively trapping her in a crushing embrace. Her parents follow suit.

Would it still be an apt metaphor if it were made in the most literal sense? The girl sighs, if only it were bright enough to form a clear shadow and melt into the darkness. Wednesday would gladly take nausea over physical contact any day.

“Greetings family. Why are you having brunch with these imbeciles here?” Grumbling under a pile of Addams’, Wednesday glares daggers at the intruders to their property. She does a headcount;

Xavier Thorpe, Ajax Petropoulos, Yoko Tanaka, Bianca Barclay and of course, Enid Sinclair. Who appears to be the guiltiest of them all, judging by the absolutely abominable puppy eyes directed in Wednesday's direction.

“Do not be so rude, my little storm cloud! These are our guests! Albeit guests unable to leave for an indeterminate time, but guests nonetheless!” She is released from imprisonment with an eyebrow raised in further confusion towards the Nevermore students.

Until everything clicks into place and Wednesday has to exert an immense amount of control to prevent any reaction slipping from her. The fruit clippings, the handkerchief’s scent and Enid's abrupt disappearance, and the utter peace she felt and had left her body entirely upon entering this part of the forest all suddenly make sense.

Furious, Wednesday stalks towards her roommate who remains seated at the furthest corner of the blanket from her, behind everyone else. Although a brilliant strategy, Wednesday had perfected the art of evading meat shields. They were never the real threat in actual battle, and in seconds she is towering right in front of Enid, despite her smaller stature.

“Enid.” She calls but the stubborn girl won’t look up at her.

She grabs the girl’s jaw and tilts it up. “How many did you have them eat?”

“Uhm I, I’m not sure, maybe 7? 8?” Enid shifts nervously in her seat.

This somewhat alleviates the goth’s anger but with Enid’s frantic twitching, she had to confirm. “Seeds?”

“...Fruits.”

“...”

“...”

The resounding slap from her hand to her own face echoes through the trees, mocking her. The facepalm of the century, Ajax Petropoulos would later dub.

Chapter Text

The Addams residence is home to a plethora of creatures, ghoulish spirits, and peculiar anomalies. Perhaps the strongest of which were at the center of their forest, the heartwood of this twisted land.

No one was quite sure where this wood ended nor where it began, it is one of the many unearthly mysteries that Wednesday had yet to crack -the way that a simple stroll in these parts made you feel eternity in a single second, a space unbound by time, yours to peruse in leisure.

Everyone had settled down to listen as Enid recounts her adventure in the woods to the group. Surprisingly, Wednesday takes the seat closest to the blonde, intent on figuring out how her roommate of all people pulled off such a heist in her own damned home, and exactly why it was that she had been allowed to.

What good would a pile of four useless nightshades and an overly pink werewolf possibly offer to this wood? Why had Enid Sinclair been pulled to the very center of the Addams ancestral land, just to pick a godforsaken number of pomegranates? How in Tartarus’ name had she even gotten back to Nevermore?

Wednesday huffs at the clear display of favoritism. If the wood could will the paths it weaves, why had it never led her to more convenient routes of escape? The goth had trouble once, not having a passport with her, when the heartwood spit her out to Brazil. Narrowly avoiding being crushed thanks to the crisp shadow cast upon her by the burly officer. Now she has at least one forged ID at all times, along with an array of throwing stars, a dagger or three, and a few ball bearings for good measure.

One can never be too prepared. she thinks to herself, using one of said daggers to slice open a black guava.

Whispers of agreement slither up her back, she would have shivered had she been a lesser person. But she is Wednesday Addams, triple damned, the darkest raven of her generation. She can handle meager whisps clawing at her for attention without so much as flinching.

She dismisses the spirits with a flourish of her blade, fancy knife work masking her unspoken demand of silence.

Unfortunately, said demand had been felt by the whole party, despite her attempts at nonchalance. All eyes had turned from Enid to Wednesday quick as two snaps of a hand.

The girl simply raised a brow, glancing around, and then continued preparing her snack, leaving those of Nevermore feeling a bit addled. Her family being used to such displays brought the conversation round back.

“Is it fair to presume you’ve a taste for pomegranates Enid?” Morticia Addams asks, lighthearted teasing was Wednesday’s most hated form of conversing, although the guavas her mother grew were adequate.

“Oh totally Mrs. Addams! My granddad had loads of dwarf pom trees at home, he loved tending to them, while he could. It helped that the tree’s were so tiny he didn’t even have to reach far! Old man always gave me a bunch, and said I’d need a lot more sweets to get stronger! I guess I just, it tastes familiar you know? Like home, how it used to be. Those were tiny though compared to what you guys got here! Like I’ve never seen poms bigger than my fist! Mind blown!” Enid can’t help but ramble, glancing down and fiddling with her fingers. Still a little shaken with everything going on, anxious of what everything means, dreading that it’s all her fault. Her breath thins.

It’s always your fault.

Suddenly she’s at the old house, there’s this kid, and he’s bloody, and she’s bawling, and she’s broken, and she’s gone.

Flunked again, half-wolf?

Her claw unsheathes unconsciously, she’s bruised, but she’s used to it. She’s got the callouses to prove it, and she’d proved it, again, and again, and again.

How Disappointing.

Apology, have to-

“I-I’m sorry I-“ 

“How lovely.” The older woman’s soft voice brings her back to earth, she looks up and is greeted with a dazzling smile upon familiar features. Morticia Addams is beautiful, it’s no wonder her husband worships the ground she walks on.

Get it together Sinclair! Now is not the time to think about how pretty her roommate’s mom is! Like, she's taken!!

She couldn’t help but wonder though; Enid has never seen Wednesday smile before, never even imagined it, now it takes everything in her to stop herself from trying.

Bitch what did I just say! Shush it!

“Fascinating.” Wednesday deadpans. “So, about your deranged idea to use pomegranate juice and kidnap five Nevermore students including yourself?”

She continues, "I admit I've never thought to try such tactics, but will endeavor to keep an open mind. If I'd agreed last night then you'd up your victim count to 6, quite an achievement." Her family members express their own enthusiastic agreement and further suggestions, while said victims are continually left bewildered.

Enid chuckles, of course Wednesday Addams would find morbid positivity in a situation like this. She finally feels shoulders relax, in this familiar albeit a darker tone of a chaotic family.

Thankful for the change in atmosphere she smiles at the girl beside her who is still debating with her brother about the efficacy of the poisoned iced cubes strategy and calls attention back to herself ready to continue.

“Right, so-“

Chapter Text

Bianca Barclay eclipsed Enid in pretty much every class they had together, in every year they’ve brushed past each other. It was kinda annoying but the wolf never really cared about that. Even now fully able to shift, all she wanted was to be able to stay; in the carefully crafted spot at Nevermore she’d carved for herself with claws and teeth and blood.

Who cares about the scientific name of a lily pad?

Well, maybe Wednesday does but still the point stands!

Plus Enid had much more important things to worry about. Like beating said tenacious siren at the upcoming Poe Cup race and defending their trophy’s rightful place at Ophelia hall. The wolf grinned, she had the perfect plan of attack. Ammo secured in her bag, Enid entered the cafeteria with a sense of purpose to her usual bubbly stride, and a glint of competitiveness rarely seen in the werewolf’s gaze.

“Hey Bianca! Fancy a friendly wager?”

—--

“It was a smoothie-off between Bianca and me, kinda like a cooking show?” That was the only way Enid could think of describing that evening. And of course, the Addams didn’t know what a freaking cooking show was. Does technology even exist in this place?

“A cooking show is like-”

“Sinclair, you can hook up the Addams later.” Bianca interrupts with a sigh. She turns to face the family.

“She challenged me to a smoothie-making showdown” She had always preferred being straight to the point.

“And you accepted, Barclay?” Wednesday asks, clearly more mocking than curious.

“Would you have declined, Addams?”

The goth tilted her head a bit as if to say ‘Touché’.

—--

The terms Enid presented were simple enough: the winner gets bragging rights of course, and can remove any one member of the loser’s team out of the running in exchange for another of the loser’s choice. This change of players will occur right before submitting the final forms to prevent further changes in team dynamics.

Bianca raised a brow. “You think I’m giving you a shot at getting rid of me?”

“I think I’m giving you a shot at getting rid of my most trusted co-pilot which, really, you're never gonna get anywhere else.” Enid grins wide, all teeth and no games.

The siren’s other brow follows suit, amusement turning into shock.

“You sure that’s a smart move, Enid?”

“I’ve just set the board, Bianca. You haven’t seen any of my moves yet.”

“Fine, this better be worth my time.”

Satisfied that everything was going according to plan, Enid walks toward her usual table with Yoko.

“Dude why were you flirting with Bianca?”

“What!? I- Yoko I was not!”

“You sure? Cuz waaay over here looked like you were trying to convince her to runaway to the countryside and like live happily ever after in a U-haul truck.”

“Oh em gee! will you just shut up and help me find Eugene!?”

“Bee boy? Why?”

“You know you keep calling him that and he’ll turn it into his superhero name and seek vengeance on you for his namesake.” Xavier suddenly chirps from an adjacent table.

“Sure why not, I’ve lived long enough.”

“Yoko!!”

—--

“You even made Eugene part of this? Terrible job. Is he here too? Where is he?” If anyone made accusations of Wednesday Addams almost smiling that night, she’d call them demented.

“He isn’t here Wednesday. He went home to check on the family hives since his moms are on vacation.”

“And how do you know that, Thorpe?”

“If you just stuck around the hut for more than a few minutes a week then maybe you would too.”

“I’ve been occupied recently. But I suppose I should spend more time with the bees.”

Xavier scoffs. “Sure, the bees.”

—--

A year after Crackstone, Xavier had to clear out of the shed, which was soon to be demolished. He didn’t really have a place to store all his stuff, nor did he have all the time in the world to actually move them up to his dorm, all the way across campus. Eugene offered to store some of his things at the beekeeping hut for safe keeping, until Xavier decides on what to do with them at least.

In the end, the supplies never did leave the place, instead they started decorating the walls of the hut as paintings. After he was done with that, he started having an interest in the area, not so much the bees themselves but the plants they pollinated. Gardening agreed with him. An artist touching grass, who would've thought?

Xavier gave them the honey he’d stored in his room. Eugene was never selfish with his harvests, although that didn’t necessarily mean he’d always been able to clear out his stores.

The artist also agreed to be one of the jurors for the issued challenge, being a different dorm hall and all. He’d also promised to conscript Ajax to the cause.

—--

“Oh, it was, like, a serious competition?” Ajax asked.

It was in these times that Enid heavily wondered, what exactly was it that she saw in Ajax two years ago?

“Yes Ajax. Which is, in fact, why you shouldn’t base the scoring on how well they went with brownies.”

“Ohhh, yep makes sense. My bad. Sorry Nid.” Enid rolled her eyes. He was certainly an idiot, but he was also cute. She bumps his shoulder with hers in mock annoyance.

“Yeah yeah, take it up with the family.” She gestured to Yoko. The vampire holds up an open palm.

Ajax pouts but compiles, he empties his pockets and hands over his stash to the vampire to inspect.

“Yep, definitely special order.”

“Uh, they’re medicinal?” Well at Least he tried.

Chapter Text

Mr. Addams confiscated the pot brownies and retreated to the mansion, much to Yoko's chagrin. While Ajax just sighed in defeat, getting up to placate the whiny vampire almost made Enid forget about this little-itty-bitty dilemma they've found themselves in.

Almost being the key word.

"Enid?" The girl in question jumped. 

"Yes, Wednesday?" 

"Your main ingredient for this competition was pomegranate seeds, correct?"

"Mhm, yup!" Trying to give her full attention to the goth while she used her left arm to both comfort and hold down a vampire from arguing with their current hosts who will be having them for an indefinite amount of time for questionable goods was proving quite a challenge. 

"Did you happen to use a recipe? We might deduce a relatively accurate number of seeds each of you consumed from there, and subsequently the length of your stay here."

"Oh! Yeah I did! At least, for the first round. We split the ingredients 50/50 in the third round, I think? Or was it the second?” Enid glanced at Yoko for confirmation. Wednesday’s brows furrow in silent agitation, behavior that she would later catalogue to be quite unlike herself. Usually she’d seethe with it, teeth and all, and not silently stew in it to boiling point.

“Well don’t ask me! Dude, everything starts to blend together after the first fucking smoothie. See what I did there?” The vampire wiggles her eyebrows clearly proud of her ability to spew terrible puns at them, and the group dissolves into chaos.

“Girl that was terrible.” Enid scolds her friend, while the boys try to fill in the gaps of her memory.

“I think we had five?”

“Yeah cuz it’s a 5/10 for me.”

“Ex-squeeze me!?” Yoko suddenly stands in indignation, knocking Enid back into Ajax, who somehow catches her fall and helps her balance. 

“Yo! Chill!” The serpentine boy says, apparently a changed man.

“I’m fine!”

“Yeah, that one’s better.”

“Nah, I think we just had four smoothies.” 

“You sure you were sober, brownie boy?” One by one the nevermore students rise to argue points that glide past the others’ ears. The clatter had driven Pugsley away from the gathering towards the snack tables with his mother. Wednesday remained seated.
“We definitely had more than four, maybe seven?” The chatter continues, louder and less coherent as the seconds tic by.

Wednesday finds herself unconsciously grinding her teeth in building annoyance, utterly disgruntled at the ridiculousness before her. Who in their right mind hosts seven of the same inane competition without even knowing the risks of one ? 

Perhaps that is the problem, not one person in this group had a sound mind.

And Wednesday thought her family was intolerable, these overgrown children were much, much worse.

"We were making smoothies for three hours down there, because those two couldn't just decide on a winner." Bianca rolled her eyes, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. 

"But I saved the day!" Yoko yells out with the same acclaim she has when spewing dad jokes.

"By choosing which one looks more like blood?" Xavier challenges. He really did try to judge the contest right; it was just impossible to do so with equal votes for each smoothie every single time.

"All in a day's work, citizens. No need to thank me!" 

"Ya'll scoring system on crack. I'm still calling that last point unfair and void, with conflict of interest to boot."

"What!? Noo!! I won fair ‘n square!" Enid pouted.

"Rematch?" Bianca challenges. 

The wolf grins, a competitive spirit lit in both girls ever since the first real Poe Cup match.

“You’re on! I- Uhm-” Mid-sentence she makes the mistake of glancing down at the only person still sitting down at their circle. Suddenly, for once, Enid cannot make a single word come out of her mouth to save her life.

And she does mean to save her life, because when Wednesday Addams looks up at her, she is livid.

“ Sinclair. ” Enid flinched, were they really back to that now? Does she have to call her bestie Addams? How would that even work in the Addams house?

“Correct me if I’m wrong, which I hardly am.” Wednesday gets up, dusting off her attire with any trace of the day’s picnic, along with whatever scraps of patience she had left for these people.

“You had engaged in multiple ludicrous, pointless contests without thought of consequence or any possible danger.” Her tone is as monotonous as ever, she takes a step towards Enid, gaze burning with absolute rage.

“And even with said consequences and dangers already charged upon you, you wish to repeat the same foolishness as before-” She takes another step. Enid would take a step back if she still had control over her sensibilities. As it stands fight or flight response had left her body entirely, but maybe she had always been defenseless under the ferocity of Wednesday Addams. 

“For the prize of a small meagre chance at defeating Bianca Barclay by yourself.” For all the goth loved her own personal space, away from everyone, she sure loved to invade other people’s. Enid could smell her hair at this range, facing toe to toe. For the record, she did not sniff at Wednesday’s hair, she just had a good nose on her, werewolf and all. If only her other wolf stuff could come out and help her escape now it would be great!

“Is that it?” Wednesday demands, far be it for Enid not to answer.

“Yeah.” It takes everything in her to do so.

“Then you are acting a fool .” Enid shrinks at the venom in the girl's words.

“ A dense, witless, fool .” Every insult a stab at her person, bleeding her out from the very core, draining her of her confidence, her self-worth which wasn’t really a lot to begin with.

“Hey that isn’t fair, she-” Bianca Barclay of all people comes to her defense. Wednesday snaps her head to the girl in a perfect 90-degree angle and she withers.

Normally Wednesday loved to watch the withering of what was once proud, she basked in the morbid beauty of a thing's slow destruction, of nature's consequences. But there is no poetry in death by idiocy, no matter how Shakespeare tried to make it so. She turned fully to face the rest of the nightshades, away from Enid.

"If all of you want to stay trapped here so badly then do as you wish, but do not involve me in this idiocy. You lot are no longer of concern to me." She waits all of three seconds to hear any more attempts at making her help them, and goes to leave, stomping through the tree line.

Once she regains faculty over her legs, Enid attempts to follow but finds that the girl had virtually disappeared. She’d have called out to the girl but found her lungs couldn’t muster enough strength to lend her voice. She still tried to track her. All she had was her nose and her ears, but there were no traces after a few feet of the tree line. No matter how hard she tried to track the winds, or how much she strained to listen to familiar footsteps, Wednesday was gone, vanished, and this time Enid had no idea how to follow her.

Chapter Text

A few minutes later Morticia finds Enid slumped behind a very specific tree at a small clearing. The blonde girl had her knees up to her chest, cradling herself in the way children learn to soothe themselves alone. Her heart aches for the little wolf, grown up as they may be, they are still young. She makes sure not to surprise the werewolf and scare her away. Dainty footfalls announce her presence as dried leaves crinkle beneath earthen gardening boots. 

“Ah, Enid! How ever did you find Ichabod?” She takes a seat at a comfortable nook beside the girl, smiling warmly when she looks up. 

“Ichabod?”

“This tree we sit beneath, dear, Ichabod is the liveliest of the bunch we have here, did you know! It does not like to stay in one place for long!” The tree seems to wave its approval of Morticia’s introduction.

Enid’s gaze tilts further up, considering this. 

The tree moves on its own, yeah alright. Nothing’s impossible in the Addams’ home.

“Uhm, I thought I caught a whiff of Willa this way but the place was empty when I came.” A few of Ichabod’s leaves rustle in indignation.

“Sorry! Empty except you Ichabod!” If trees had a face Enid thinks this one would be pouting at her menacingly, like a certain goth girl. Morticia chuckles at the old tree’s antics.

"Do not mind it Enid, and I’m sure my daughter is still somewhere in the property still suffering from vertigo due to her shadow jumps, but fine.” Morticia shakes her head. No matter how much she tries to have her daughter take medication for it, the stubborn girl always argues that she’d overcome this hurdle on her own. 

Far be it for Morticia Addams to question the stretches of her daughter’s will power, after all, she had no idea the limits of her own either.

"I thought She was a seer? How can she, like, teleport? And with shadows? Why did she never tell me she could do that!" 

"She is indeed a seer, a raven. These more umbrageous powers of hers have been manifesting only quite recently, one at a time. It has been a lot to handle and has kept her plenty busy the past year, as you’ve likely observed.” Enid contemplates this, eyes searching the dark sky yet says nothing.

“For your last query, I apologize but I am not at liberty to answer. You know how she is." The girl frowns, clearly saddened. Ah, but they can’t have that! This is her daughter’s roommate! And although the girl would never admit to it, to Morticia’s memory Enid was also her longest standing friend.

"Don't take it to heart, darling. It's not that she doesn't trust you." She tries, Enid lets out a dry laugh. 

“Pretty sure now she definitely doesn’t.” Morticia frowns at that response.

“She worries for you, that's all.”

"I'm sorry." Tears begin welling up in Enid's eyes.

"Whatever for?"

"I- I didn't mean to steal from your garden, that's terribly rude of me. And I didn't mean to drag everyone else to my mistake. It really is my fault. I'm sorry you have to deal with all this, with-"

Morticia pulls the girl into a warm hug.

"Oh Enid, dear, you couldn't have known. Truly none of this is your fault." Enid quietly sobs in her embrace.

"But Wednesday said-"

"Ah, she has such a way with words, doesn't she?" Confused, Enid looks up at her.

"What?"

"Our viper has always been venomous, yes? Cutthroat and merciless in everything she does and with everything that she says.”

“Yeah, but she isn’t usually that mean to me.” The girl glances down, dejected.

Morticia’s eyes sparkle at the admission, a show of favoritism, how becoming!

“Indeed! She has displayed a terrible lack of manners in front of guests! She will get her due, likely a few days ‘slaving away’ at my ‘dreadfully colorful’ non-toxic flower gardens.” Morticia winks at the girl and they share a laugh, already knowing how much the goth will despise the treatment.

“That aside, today has been a lot dear, and with these changes with her powers I believe everything was just a little bit much for her. I hope you can somehow understand.”

Enid smiles. “Of course I do, Mrs. Addams.”

"Thank you darling, now what say you we discuss alternative smoothie recipes for that rematch of yours?"

- - - 

Wednesday travels to the darkest recesses of their ancestral home, where no light is permitted to enter, and the air is fraught with dust and mold. She preferred combat whenever agitated, she was taught every martial art recorded and could utilize every single one with deathly accuracy. Strangely she didn’t feel the need to inflict physical paint unto the idiots she left behind, she honestly had no idea what to do with the obnoxious nightshades because there was nothing more to do with this situation other than make it much worse. That is what infuriated her the most, the lack of viable solutions to this absurd dilemma. Wednesday Addams is a person of action, she does not sit idly by and wait for a solution. Thus, she left.

The raven sits at a corner in one of the many attics located at the far back of their family manor. This exact room is where grandmama used to hold her seances, that is, whenever she’d get kicked out from the local cemeteries. Now the space was mostly empty save the single wooden chest Wednesday leans on.

The old crone had her very own travelling office now, room for her items and expertise; a strange business filled to the brim with knickknacks and some cursed devil fingers displayed in frames. Every now and then she’d visit, showing off her collection and what seems to be a never-ending vitality for deals and dentures.

Wednesday abhorred her grandmama’s visits, for the raven wished the old crone rather not leave home at all. Grandmama wasn't getting any younger, no matter how much she denied aging. Alas she is a woman of the wide, wide world, the very person who opened the Addams’ woods to paths almost anywhere in the world.

Heavy footsteps bring her back from the thoughts circling her mind and the silent stirring of her body, still trying to fight off the last few bits of nausea.

"Storm cloud?" Soft candle light illuminates most of the room, Gomez Addams' shadow engulfs the other half.

"Father, must I remind you I did not receive the ability to generate storms?" Wednesday appreciates the firelight enough to respond, it’s much softer on the eyes compared to the installed lights.

“Your mother calls for you.” Her father’s tone was as soft as the flame’s and she knew it was for her comfort. She found her teeth grinding at it anyway. It had always been overbearing, the weight of his love for the family, for her. She never knew what to do with it, how to respond nor how to hand it back over, her father never asked anything of her in return.

She stopped trying to figure it out.

“Your point being?” She wished he’d stop figuring with her too.

"You leave such devastation in your wake my dear child! As such, what are you if not a magnificent force of nature?" Wednesday sinks into herself further.

"A black hole." Wednesday Addams is well versed in destruction, caliber earned blood after blood.

"My child, do not be so hard on yourself." Frustrated, Wednesday turns back.

"I am fine with myself! The rot, death, and calamity in every single thing I touch is merely a testament to my prowess. I am nothing if not a black hole, father. Everything in my orbit I destroy, and I am fine with that for it is my nature."

Wednesday attempts to shadow travel once again but suddenly everything slows down, and she can't move to the closest patch of darkness fast enough before her father's power overcomes her. Chronomancy was such an annoying thing to battle, how could anyone beat time itself?

"Wednesday, these gifts do not define us. They are merely tools. It is what you choose to do with them that matters." She can’t look up to meet his gaze as time moves differently for right now his time moves differently than hers, a trap she’s not often caught with but applauds nonetheless.

"And I know you my daughter. If anything, running away from your problems is the exact opposite of your nature! But if you insist in believing such things, so must I insist this upon you; do what you will, but do what you must. I hear you left in quite a disarray, shall we remedy that?" Gomes drops the pause in time and Wednesday is hit with another spell of dizziness. He hands her a pill she begrudgingly accepts.

"Fine." Taking medicine dry is one of the few talents she absolutely despises having. Her father smiles in approval and begins to exit the room and descend.

"Lovely! Now come down and help me carry my pastries back.” They head into the living area where their coffee table is nigh discernible, buried under stacks of brown paper bags marked with a familiar menacing face. Wednesday’s lips quirk in pleasant surprise.

“Are these from uncle Fester’s bakery?” She takes a few bags in hand, whatever her father can’t carry.

“Indeed! That boy’s skills aren’t too shabby, but shabby isn’t the way an Addams hosts their guests! These are sure to remedy that!” He grins from ear to ear, expression a stark contrast to his daughter’s.

“Yes, everything in his shop is made by trustworthy hands according to thing.” They trudge into the wood once again.

Chapter Text

Hello there, Author here! It's been a hot minute huh? Decided to put up some art of Enid & Thing painting nails as an apology, hope ya'll like it ^^

Now if this sketch is at all familiar to you, dear reader, then we are connected via the vast internet, and if u wanna reveal to me that you too, are a piece of wenclair trash then by all means do shoot me a dm about it or maybe your thoughts on this unfinished story lol whatever u want man XD.

Anyhow, here's what is up with the story; 

I literally have no idea T vT.

If ya'll have suggestions feel free to comment em down, not sure if ao3 has a spoilers function but if there is mark it as that for funsies. If not then that's all fine too my dudes and this story will remain on hiatus until further notice for now. Maybe season 2 will give us all more inspiration when it comes around, but I'll be sure to come back to this fic when I got more ideas and the brain space for em.

Until then, thanks for reading and ciao!

<3