#Wenvier Moodboard

[psychic-refugee]

Her grandmama had taught her the power of stones.

Citrine held the power of abundance, positivity, energy, protection, and creativity.

Most of those would never describe Wednesday Addams, but she appreciated the charms her grandmother made her for when she went off to uni to become a writer.

Although most comfortable in black and white, she could always be seen wearing the earthly-orange stones in some capacity.

A simple ring, a necklace, or a cuff, she held these charms close to her heart.

Perhaps her affinity for citrine was why when she first met Xavier Thorpe, who wore a golden-orange leather jacket on the quad, she felt an instant attraction.

Xavier carried the warmth of the sun, and she always felt rejuvenated in his presence as she would quietly write, and he would paint.

When she brought him to meet the family, grandmama smirked and clocked him instantly,

“I told you citrine would bring you joy.”

Wednesday couldn’t argue with that.

[waviermylove]

𝔚𝔢𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔄𝔡𝔡𝔞𝔪𝔰 𝔵 𝔛𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔢

[heyharoldsboo]

Xavier’s wall after he and Wednesday start dating

[novemberwasgrey]

•wednesday addams x xavier thorpe•

[foolinlove99]

"Being your friend should come with a warning label"

[musicandi]

Moodboard inspired by @mermaid886's give me woe chapter 6

If you haven't already read the story please check out and show some love.

[sebikitcat]

Thank you to @psychic-refugee for this lovely moodboard for my fic In the night, I dream of woe so true!

[psychic-refugee]

This could be a Wenvier moodboard/ fanfic inspo.

Either Xavier as the Star or Wednesday is the personification of a Black Hole...

Stardust (2007) dir. Matthew Vaughn

[psychic-refugee]

For @mermaid886

Theme: Practical Magic/Bloodline Curse

The Frump women were known to be powerful witches and utterly beautiful. Morticia Frump was no different.

She found love with Gomez Addams, and while she took his name and gave it to her children, the Frump bloodline would always win out and any child born of a Frump was considered a Frump to the small eastern seaside village of Jericho, Vermont.

She may call herself Morticia Addams, but the Frump women’s curse followed her still.

She loved Gomez deeply and passionately for ten years. He gave her two beautiful children, Wednesday and Pugsly. Both had the spark of magic and Morticia worried for them because despite three hundred years passing since the first Frump woman, Mortina Frump, the town still seemed fearful of anyone of Frump blood.

The curse came for Gomez one fateful night as he drove down a particularly treacherous and slick road.

Despite knowing of the curse and doing everything in her power to fight it, another man who knew a Frump woman’s love had succumb.

Morticia died of a broken heart.

Young Wednesday stood over their graves, her tears falling until they ran out. She promised herself,

“I will never fall in love. I will never have a family…the Frump women’s curse ends with me.”

Grandmama Frump and Pugsly were sad to hear such a thing from Wednesday, but neither could give comfort to the grieving girl.

As they got older, their powers emerged, proving their Frump blood. One night, Pugsly was unable to sleep and found his sister with a wooden bowl in the greenhouse.

She went from herb to herb and flower to flower, a plethora of flora they grew for their spells and cooking alike. She whispered her spell as she plucked a petal or leaf and placed it in her bowl.

She took the petal of a camellia flower and the bud off a willow branch:

He shall tower over me like a Willow His eyes will be as green as a rose leaf

She grabbed the entire head of a spider lily, and a black feather:

He will not fear the dark or things that crawl He will know the Raven’s Song by heart

She tore a petal of a katniss, and pinched the pollen of a dahlia:

He will be able to shoot an arrow backwards He will be able to draw my face even if he’s never seen me

She squeezed the seedpod of a poppy, and took the head of a black pansy:

He will whisper my name in his dreams and when he smiles, his dimples will melt my cold black heart

“I thought you never wanted to fall in love?” he questioned why his sister would invoke Amas Veritas, the most potent true love spell in their grimoire.

“I do not. This boy…this boy does not exist,” she had made sure to describe her perfect love, for the spell wouldn’t work if she wasn’t sincere. She had high, impossible standards and knew nothing would be able to thaw the coldness that had wrapped itself around her heart since their parents died. “If he does not exist, then I cannot fall in love. If I do not fall in love, then I will not have a family and I will not leave children to mourn me and their father…the curse ends with me.”

Pugsly fiercely missed their mother and father, he had seen the devastation that tore through their mother at the loss of their father. He didn’t think any of it fair, but there was nothing he could say.

Wednesday was right, the Frump women of their line were cursed, and it didn’t seem to go through the male line. The men also couldn’t pass on the magic, either.

He mourned for his sister, he mourned that the magic that endured for hundreds of years would end with them. A lone tear escaped his eyes as he saw his sister lift the bowl to be bathed in the light of the moon.

With her magic, the wind swept the petals and spell away on the cool spring air, swirling through Jericho until it was out of sight.

Wednesday didn’t know what happened to her spell, she assumed since the boy she described didn’t exist, it would simply be swept out to sea, to drown and take the future of their magic with it.

Unbeknownst to either sibling, the breeze carried the spell to the roof of a penthouse in New York City.

Little Xavier should have been asleep in his bed, but his father had missed his archery tournament, again. His father missed every important event in his life, even his birthday a few months ago.

He was too quiet, his eyes too intense, his smile too wide, he was a bit of too everything to make any friends at his school. He was lonely and desperate for a friend.

He even allowed the spider that made its home on the rooftop crawl upon his hand, and he had let it down on a drawing of a girl with pigtails with a raven on her shoulder.

“At least tomorrow is Wednesday,” he told himself. It was his favorite day of the week, he had no idea why, but he always looked forward to Wednesdays.

A nanny had one told him if she wished upon the first star he saw at night, it would come true.

So, the first star he saw when he looked up and whispered,

“I wish I had a friend, someone just for me.”

He was confused when he found himself showered with flower petals, and a raven feather had softly drifted down and landed in his hand.

He kept that feather for years, even when his father had courted a scandal so bad that they had to move to a seaside nowhere town in Vermont to lay low for his senior year.

The town was so small, that the only thing worth gossiping about were the Frump siblings,

“Wednesday’s a witch, so watch out,” Ajax, the boy assigned to show him around told him. “She’s actually really quiet and doesn’t bother most. I don’t even think she means to curse people. They just get on her nerves and her irritation is so great, they find themselves dropping dead for no reason.”

Xavier had no idea what to say to that, but he did wonder where the hell his father had moved them to.

It wasn’t until he met a girl who he thought only existed in his dreams, that he thought perhaps she did have magic as she certainly bewitched him with her dark eyes and berry bitten lips.

He couldn’t help the smile that graced his face when she looked him up and down, most were unused to seeing someone as tall as he at their age, and he grew concerned when she looked absolutely baffled and speechless at the sight of his dimples.

[psychic-refugee]

Wenvier Bingo - Professors

Thank you @heavenlyvixen for being a sounding board for my ideas. I wouldn't have the inspo for this without you. I'm sure some of the dialogue will seem familiar. 😜

Eugene was buzzing with excitement to attend Innsmouth University. It was the premier school for melittology with a focus on apiology, a branch of entomology. He found his people in the science department, and although he got tired of repeating and dumbing down what his field of study was for his degree, he was able to succinctly tell people:

“I’m gonna study honeybees.”

If it were up to him, he’d spend all his class time in the biology department or working in the apiary club called the Hummers.

But alas, Innsmouth had a general studies requirement and encouraged students to be “well rounded.”

So, he took a painting and a creative writing course.

The two professors could not be more different.

Professor “Call me Xavier” Thorpe taught Intro to Painting. Professor Thorpe, Eugene was never going to call a Professor by their first name as it was ingrained in him since private preschool to never be so informal with a teacher, was talented and knew what he was talking about when it came to colour theory and technique.

But he was the most unserious professor Eugene had ever come across.

Professor Thorpe wore camo pants to class, he was often mistaken for a student by other members of the faculty, invited his students to picnics on the quad, and often took the class on field trips to art museums where he wasn’t afraid to get down and dirty to kneel or squat when enthusiastically educating them on the artwork.

Even for the decorative molding which wasn’t technically part of the exhibit, Professor Thorpe saw art in everything.

Eugene could admire and respect the love of art Professor Thorpe had…but was baffled when the professor was found asleep on one of the art exhibits on campus and he wondered how he kept his job.

Then there was Professor Addams. She never offered for anyone to call her by her first name, but she was the type of severe teacher that Eugene was convinced she didn’t have a first name. Her name was Professor Addams, and no one could tell him otherwise.

She taught creative writing and specialized in the macabre and mystery genre. She even had a popular series based on a heroine named Viper de la Muerte. He was surprised she was even teaching as there was a rumour on campus that she had just gotten movie deals for her series.

Professor Addams was the consummate professional. She was always pristinely dressed and well put together, and she put the fear of God into her students. So much so that they jokingly said The Devil Wrote Mystery Novels, and when she walked across campus, people got out of her way.

One day, when someone said she was married to Professor Thorpe, Eugene literally laughed out loud and went about his classes. When others tried to convince him that the beautiful creative writing professor was married to the goofiest teacher Eugene ever had, he laughed again.

It wasn’t until he saw them kissing under a gnarled oak tree on the quad, did he finally give credence to the rumours.

“How in the hell are those two married?” he asked his classmates while at the art studio, before Professor Thorpe arrived. He would never have done it in Professor Addams’ class, too afraid she might accidentally overhear.

He looked around, paranoid she may be around the corner.

“I know, right?” Pugsly could only laugh as it was a ridiculous thought. “They’re so opposite of each other.”

“And not just in demeanor and how they dress,” Yoko added, “He’s a tall and she’s a smol.”

The class laughed as they got their supplies together.

“She’s like a tiny koala and he’s a eucalyptus tree,” someone else commented.

“Yeah, I bet she climbs him like a tree,” Yoko said suggestively. That was when the girls in the class heartily agreed and giggled.

Eugene just rolled his eyes. While he thought Professor Thorpe was goofy as hell, many of the women on campus swooned over his 6' 2" height, dreamy green eyes, and heart stopping dimples.

Their words, not his.

Despite his bafflement at their relationship, they both ignited a love for the arts in him. After that semester, he decided to double major in writing and did painting as a hobby.

The Hummers’ beehives were treated to a makeover and had never been as colourful and beautiful.

He happily consulted with Professor Addams on how one might die from a swarm of honeybees for her next novel.

He gave both professors excellent reviews on RateMyProfessor.com.

Card under cut

[psychic-refugee]

Wenvier Bingo Childhood Friends - WGF Universe

This one is a bit long, so I'm putting it under a cut.

Ten-year-old Xavier Thorpe normally loved the Addams estate. He didn’t know any other family with its own swamp, cemetery, or secret underground canal that led to interesting rooms and vaults.

It was the first time he had ever been sad there, however.

It was his grandmother’s funeral, and like any Addams event, it was done at night under the stars and moon.

He wore an uncomfortable suit that was a bit too small, but his father said that now grandma was dead, he would shrink to fit.

Xavier didn’t know people could shrink, he thought they could only grow. He also didn’t understand what his grandmother’s death had to do with his size, but he took his father’s word for it.

He stood outside one of the many rooms in Addams manor, Miss Eudora and his father were arguing again. The adults never yelled, mostly they were too prideful to do something as gauche as yelling, but he could sense it in their terse voices that they did not like each other.

He didn’t understand why not, as Grandma Violet and Miss Eudora were the best of friends.

But the two had never gotten along, and ever since Grandma Violet died, Vincent was even less willing to pretend he liked Miss Eudora.

He thought he heard some snippets of what they were angry about, something about a villa in the south of France. He thought maybe his father wanted it, but Xavier didn’t know why. They had never been there, and they had a huge penthouse in New York and another in Las Vegas.

He was also certain the arguments were about him, as Miss Eudora didn’t like that his father was living amongst the Normie’s so much.

To Xavier’s heartbreak, he would later learn that his father had much more planned for them in terms of cutting themselves off from Outcast society. If he had known then that it would be the last time he’d see Miss Eudora or the Addams siblings for years, he would have run away and hid somewhere in the vast estate.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” a voice told him coolly, which made him jump.

He turned to see Wednesday, standing there in her best black dress. Most of her clothes looked the same, but this was one embroidered with roses and the collar delicate white silk.

“Unless it’s something really interesting,” her twin sister Freya had popped out of nowhere and whispered right into his ear, which made him jump again.

Freya then stood next to Wednesday, a wide smile on her face, amused that he had been scared twice. She wore a similar dress, except hers had spiderwebs instead of rose embroidery, and the collar was lace silk and not solid.

They wore matching twin braided pigtails, but Wednesday’s were looped at the ends to mimic a noose.

Xavier tried to gather what was left of his ten-year-old dignity and stood up straight.

“Freya, be kind,” Wednesday warned her twin, it was not the time to antagonize Xavier.

The other girl’s smile didn’t leave her face, but she scrunched her nose in acknowledgement.

The adults’ voices were raising higher, and the children knew not to get involved in adult business.

“Want to play hide and seek?” Wednesday offered, thinking the game would cheer Xavier up.

Addamses didn’t mourn like the Normie’s or even other clans. They embraced Death and looked forward to the True Peace brought by Oblivion and becoming one with the Void. If souls were not ready to go into the Void, then they could still communicate with the Dead as the Frumps were powerful mediums.

They were taught, however, that some were deeply saddened when one died regardless.

Wednesday could understand that. Even if the Dead were at peace, the Living had to spend the time between life and joining them without their loved ones. What was speaking with the Dead compared to embracing the Living?

She looked at Xavier, his vivid green eyes sad and his round cheeks slightly red from crying.

“Yeah,” he immediately forgot that the adults were arguing and for a moment was distracted from losing his grandmother.

There were so many places in the mansion to hide, and he was certain he would find even more new and interesting places.

He was It first and gave them to the count of twenty. He had found Wednesday in a mausoleum and Freya on top of a bookcase. He had found Wednesday first, so he and Freya went to go hide.

Wednesday found Freya in a suit of armor, and Xavier was in Grandmama’s large iron pot in the kitchen.

All of this took hours, and it was a nice break from missing his grandmother.

Freya tended to be an aggressive Seeker. Instead of gently tapping on the Hider to tag them as found, she would jump on them or tackle them to the ground. He wanted to try extra hard to hide from her.

His feet found their way to the Addams Family mortuary and crematorium.

That’s where he found her casket. During the wake it had been decorated with onyx skulls and her namesake flower. In the brick mortuary, most of the decorations had been removed. He knew that soon, at midnight, she would be lowered down into a grave on the property.

That had been another point of contention with his father, he had wanted his mother to be buried with his father, Violet’s husband, in the Outcast cemetery in New York. But Violet had been clear in her will what she wanted done with her remains. Xavier didn’t understand why it made his father so upset and was told it was a “grown up thing.”

It was probably disrespectful to go hide in a casket, but he couldn’t stop his hands from lifting the lid and then climbing in.

He was certain it was Addams magic that preserved the body so perfectly, as the only way he could tell she was dead was that she was cold and wouldn’t wake up, no matter how much he asked her to.

He laid himself beside her, wanting one last goodbye.

“I’ll miss you grammy,” he whispered to her as he felt the soft silk of the collar of her dress.

Unbeknownst to Xavier, Freya crept into the mortuary and saw that Xavier was in the casket with Ms. Violet. She gave him a few moments out of respect, but there was Chaos in her blood. She saw the casket was on wheels and the cremator was right there. All it would take would be to push the casket to the entrance and press a button.

She was certain he would be fine…he was basically an Addams after all.

So, she pulled the lid closed and locked the casket. She smiled when she heard muffled yelling and desperate scratching. She pushed the casket to the cremator and set it aflame. It took a moment for the fire to get hot enough and then the casket on the conveyor started to move slowly.

Before Xavier was in any real danger, Wednesday had come in and heard the racket.

She excitedly stopped the conveyor and wondered why Freya wasn’t more excited at the possibility that Ms. Violet might have come back from the dead.

She tilted her head curiously when Xavier was there when she lifted the lid.

“You are not Ms. Violet come back to life,” she was a bit disappointed.

He couldn’t respond as his heart was nearly beating out of his chest at almost having been burned alive. He was also angry because his grandmother wanted to be buried, not cremated.

He turned an angry eye to Freya who simply giggled and then high tailed it out of there as if they were still playing a game.

“I advise against pitting yourself against my sister,” Wednesday warned, understanding that Freya had gone too far. “She would kill you before you got within an arm’s reach. Grandmama is already grieving for Ms. Violet, I would not have you add to it.”

She wasn’t boasting of her sister’s prowess, merely stating a fact.

His initial instinct was to argue, but all it took was one look into her fathomless black eyes and he felt like he was floating. It was something that always happened when he was around Wednesday.

The fight left him and he agreed.

“Come, grandmama can treat your hands,” and without waiting to see if he’d follow her, she started to walk away. He quickly caught up to her, and he was treated to a detailed history of various tortures that included being buried or burned alive.

True to Wednesday’s word, grandmama had patched him up with her special mud. He wouldn’t even be left with scars from tearing at the lid of the casket.

“Go to the kitchens, there will be some cookies waiting for you,” Grandmama promised, affectionately stroking his cheek with her thumb. “Freya, wait here,” she ordered her second great granddaughter.

Xavier couldn’t help his smirk as he and Wednesday left.

Freya rolled her eyes at him, she wasn’t afraid of her grandmama.

“Ma petite monstre,” she affectionately called to Freya and let her sit in her lap, she knew her nature and that she couldn’t be too mad at her, “Why did you almost set Xavvie on fire?”

Freya admired her grandmama’s purple hair, dyed just for the funeral and was in awe of her jeweled embroidered jacket. She always thought her grandmama was the picture of witchy elegance.

She shrugged her shoulders,

“I was just playing with him.”

“You can’t play with him that roughly…” she tried to tell her for the hundredth time, non Addamses were fragile.

“Why not? He’s our cousin, the magic protected him,” she pointed out, tired of being told something that obviously wasn’t true.

That rather shocked Eudora, her heart giving a sweet ache that Freya loved Xavier as kin.

“He and Wednesday are so boring if I don’t show them how to play right,” she went on. “He and Wednesday play like adults.”

That made Eudora frown,

“What do you mean?”

“They’re like you and Ms. Violet…”

“In what way?” she was starting to become concerned. She certainly hoped Xavier and Wednesday didn’t “play” like she and Violet, they were only ten years old!

“You know,” Freya started to become frustrated as it was so obvious, she didn’t understand why adults were so thick. “Like boring old people. They’re just happy to be around each other, not doing anything. They just sit around reading, drawing, or playing dolls…inside…for hours. Like you and Ms. Violet always were. How can you be so happy doing nothing with each other?”

Eudora relaxed when she finally understood, and she smiled and kissed Freya’s hair.

“Some people, like Ms. Violet and me, are…content…or at peace around each other. Sometimes, that’s all you need, is one another,” she tried to explain it as simply as she could.

That sounded awful and not possible, but Freya wasn’t about to argue with her grandmama.

Eudora could tell from Freya’s face she didn’t believe her and let out a cackle.

“Lets get you a cookie and then we lay Violet to rest,” she offered, which the ten year old was more than happy to oblige.

Eudora let herself be dragged to the kitchens, proud to see the next generation get along so well.

Little did she know how spiteful Violet’s son would be, after that night she and the Addamses wouldn’t see Xavier for years.

[psychic-refugee]

Wenvier Bingo: Past Lives

Wednesday had a rare genetic mutation where she didn’t age, and was effectively immortal. She didn’t know why and hardly noticed until everyone around her was aging and she simply did not.

Her parents had her young, and they noticed she didn’t age past twenty-one while they were becoming elderly. They fervently loved their daughter and did all they could to protect her.

It was 1389, and they set up an ingenious system where Wednesday would go to one of their country cabins, and then would come back as her own daughter. She inherited her family’s wealth and built upon it over the generations.

It became an Addams family secret that a dark haired girl would be born into each generation, taken care of by the current Addams family.

“Strong genes,” they would say with a secret smile when people noticed Wednesday’s face was in each generation of the family portrait at Addams manor.

She loved her time of solitude, where she’d spend decades in quiet contemplation and writing her ever growing memoirs of her immortal life.

She met Xavier for the first time in 1775, in the court of the Prince Regent, George and his mother, Queen Charlotte.

It was the first time she cursed her immortality and sought a cure for her affliction.

They enjoyed a passionate ten years together and he was the first to know of her greatest secret.

“Instead of curing your immortality, I would rather spend eternity with you,” he confessed to her and she agreed to look for both solutions for their dilemma.

But time still marched on as they sought a solution, and he succumbed to scarlet fever.

She held him as he lay dying,

“Do not think you can get away from me so easily,” he smiled through the coughs and pain, “I will find you again, I promise. Our love is immortal.”

She cried as she buried him, determined to join him in the afterlife.

But he kept his promise, for she found him again.

Some lives were short, some lives were long, but she loved every minute she had with him.

Sometimes he was poor, sometimes he was wealthy, every time he was her Xavier.

One of her favorite lives was in the 1960’s, she was a blonde starlet, and he was an even blonder artist. They enjoyed the hedonism and drugs that flowed freely.

Although they always found each other, he still had the fragility of a mortal. He died again and again, all the while she was determined to find a way to either end her life or extend his.

The answer came when she attended Nevermore Academy, the world at large aware of Outcasts with special abilities or afflictions such as hers.

She was being shown around by a cheerful Werewolf, and Wednesday would know her soulmate anywhere.

In that particular life, he again was an artist. He felt his soulmate close and turned, they locked eyes across the quad and it was just as magical as the first time they had met.

When they graduated Nevermore, they asked a personal favor from Yoko, their Vampire schoolmate who gladly turned Xavier immortal.

They never had to live another moment without each other.

Card under cut

[psychic-refugee]

Xavier Thorpe had always been interested in art. It had been his passion since he was young.

He dreamt of galaxies and spaceships, of a man with flowers and tall aliens who graciously accepted them.

His art was world renowned in the sci-fi world. He was commissioned to do cover art for novels and made a tidy living from concept art for blockbuster films.

He had his own art studio in SoHo that was a popular destination when the Star Trek convention and other like events were in town.

Lately, he had dreamt of a woman with dark hair and agate eyes. He painted her over and over again, unlike anything he had ever done before. Those paintings were in his private collection, and none had ever seen them.

Unbeknownst to him, his studio got repeat visitors from a pair that always wore crisp black suits. The studio manager always politely asked them if they were interested in purchasing a piece, but they always said no.

It didn’t occur to the manager that it was odd that he never remembered them, even when they visited nearly every day for the past several weeks. They were always so discreet and nothing about them had ever stuck in his mind.

“Well, that’s definitely a Betazoid,” Agent A commented as he studied the painting.

“It’s not just a Betazoid, it’s Reittan Grax,” Agent W specified quietly, “And it’s a far more flattering portrait than he deserves.”

Agent A simply laughed, he knew his partner was one to hold grudges and the biennial Betazoid Trade Agreement Conference being held on Earth was a headache for the Organization globally.

As they studied all the art on display, they also took note of Bolians, Mizarians, and Zakdorns.

They had all the public and non-public records of Xavier Thorpe. From all their research, he was as human as they came.

The question was, how was he painting aliens that were not known to humans? At first their boss, Agent L had suspected an undocumented alien merely capitalizing on actual alien likenesses in order to make Earth money and a life for themselves. But Xavier Thorpe had all the proper records and history, even their most prolific forger would have a hard time mimicking a human life so well.

They were sent to investigate and had lucked out that day as Xavier needed to consult with his manager about his next showing.

Xavier was left speechless when he literally met the woman of his dreams.

Agent W and Agent A were suspicious when it looked like Xavier recognized Agent W, which should have been impossible.

They did their usual protocol when they introduced themselves by implying they were government agents, their badges held no actual seal of any U.S. government agency, but most of the human population was never that observant.

Xavier had been nervous, but he answered their questions honestly. His answers all matched up to his paperwork and they each discreetly performed tests with their advanced technology.

Xavier Thorpe was human and of Earth, there was no denying that.

“Thank you for answering our questions,” Agent W started to wrap it up, they would need to head back to HQ to debrief Agent L and get guidance of what to do next. She took out a silver cylindrical tube, ignoring Xavier’s confused look.

She set the time and date for him to forget, and with a quick flash, she started to do her normal spiel,

“You never saw…” her words died on her lips when Xavier simply looked confused rather than dazed.

“What did you just flash me with?” the flash wasn’t painful, nor did he have any idea why she did it, but he could have been epileptic for all she knew. It was just rude and dangerous.

Agent A frowned at the neuralyzer, wondering if it was broken. It had never happened before to his knowledge, but he wasn’t sure what else to think.

She flashed him again, and again Xavier was not affected by the device. In fact, he got annoyed and smacked it out of her hand.

She frowned at him and he frowned right back at her,

“You’re gonna give me a seizure or something,” he griped.

Xavier also wasn’t entrenched in the sci-fi fandom for nothing, so he put together the two nameless agents in sunglasses while indoors and the weird doohickey they flashed in his face.

“Is it safe to say that you guys are part of some shadow government?”

Both agents sighed deeply, and Agent A rolled his eyes.

The Men in Black were a known secret amongst the sci-fi nerds, and they wondered if others were immune to the neuralyzer and that’s how they ended up on Reddit all the time.

Xavier brought them back to his apartment and showed them the paintings of Agent W.

They were beautiful and well done, and Agent W almost shed a tear for they were snapshots of her past life, before she became an Agent.

When she had a family and a dream to become a writer.

They took him to MiB headquarters and Xavier was amazed that so much was hidden under their very noses. He had passed the HQ building several times and never would have thought it held a secret government agency.

They ran some tests and Agent L explained,

“Xavier, you are the rare human that has psychic ability. It’s why you dream of aliens that have visited our planet and why the neuralyzer does not work on you. Normally we would make you disappear, put you in a sort of exile to preserve the secret of alien life and protect Earth. However, with your abilities, I believe you would be ideal for our special unit.”

“Special unit?” Xavier took it all in stride, he thinks he always believed there might be some truth to his dreams.

“Yes, it’s not just extra-terrestrials we deal with. It’s a secret even to most of our most senior agents. Most of the time, it’s more than enough to know aliens exist. If they also knew the supernatural existed as well…well some have had to retire early,” was all she would say.

Xavier considered his options. He certainly didn’t want to go into exile, and he wasn’t particularly close with anyone. He hadn’t even spoken to his father in years, and he didn’t have any close friends.

He could only think of Agent W, and the dreams of them together. He felt he was where he was meant to be.

So, he accepted Agent L’s offer. He traded in his paintbrushes for his own neuralyzer, and his paint splattered camo pants for a bespoke black suit.

You will not stand out in any way. Your entire image is crafted to leave no lasting memory with anyone you encounter. You’re a rumor, recognizable only as deja vu, and dismissed just as quickly. You don’t exist. You were never even born. Anonymity is your name. Silence, your native tongue. You are no longer part of the system. You are above the system. Over it. Beyond it. We’re “them.” We’re “they.” In the absence of light, darkness prevails. We stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers.

The words of Agent L echo in his mind as he puts on the suit.

There are things that go bump in the night…we are what bump back.

He developed his psychic abilities under the guidance of Agent L. He was glad to see that Agent W and Agent A were given promotions and assigned to his unit.

“Welcome,” Agent L began, “Our unit is a secret within a secret. We are the Outcasts. This is our newest agent, Agent X.”

Agent W nodded respectfully, but from the heated way she eyed him up and down, rather liking him in a black suit, Xavier, now Agent X, knew his dreams would be coming true sooner rather than later.

[psychic-refugee]

For @wenvierismycomfort

Theme: Natural Born Killers

The Loomis brothers looked like the average Normie family.

The eldest, Billy, loved movies and hoped to attend NYU and study film.

The middle, Ajax, had a bit of a wild streak. He preferred to chill with his friends and smoke pot.

The youngest, Ethan, had a cherub face and curls to match. Anyone looking at him would have thought butter couldn’t melt in his mouth.

What no one knew, was that they were proficient serial killers.

Their father didn’t know what to do. Every time a town’s body count got too high, he would move them in hopes of starting fresh. He thought the first few times, they had been lucky, and he had cleaned up well enough after his sons that no one was the wiser. After the third town and his own exhaustion, he found that regardless of what he did, no one seemed to connect the murders to his sons.

Even when they had killed right in front of people. Even the police went on as if they had seen nothing as the brothers stood over a body, bloody knives right in their hands and their faces covered with a ghostly mask.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” he finally asked, there was nowhere else to run, and he had tried therapists and everything else he could think of to curb their bloodthirst.

“To feed the Wall,” Billy spoke for his brothers.

To Mr. Looms’ horror, they showed him the basement…which their newest house didn’t have when they first moved in, and the stairs when down for what seemed forever. They finally came to a stark white room with nothing in it but a surgical table and a freshly dead body.

Their latest victim bled out and had filled several buckets.

Ajax took a brush and painted the Wall crimson. The white Wall pulsated at the offering and soon the fresh ruby blood had been absorbed and returned to a pristine white.

Mr. Loomis rushed upstairs and emptied his stomach on the front lawn. His sons stood around him, their eyes dark but begging him to understand and still love them.

He would always protect his sons.

He made a call to Nevermore Academy; it was the only place he could think of that could possibly give them answers.

The very next day, a tall, beautiful, statuesque woman who introduced herself as Principal Larissa Weems had come to their home with a mismatched married couple, introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Addams. The wife was almost as tall as the blonde, in a tight black dress that made Mr. Loomis wonder how she could breathe. The husband was a short stocky fellow with slicked back hair in a gaudy blue silk pinstriped suit.

All three were totally unperturbed by the Wall or that each of his sons had a body count in the double digits.

Mrs. Addams spoke softly to the Wall, as if it were a child needing to be soothed.

“Oh, you’re just a baby,” she smiled as she touched the Wall, which seemed to react to her presence.

His sons were fascinated at the gentle hand, and the Wall seemed to purr.

“Spontaneous First Generation Outcast,” Larissa told them over tea. “It’s rare these days, but each Outcast line had to start somewhere. Someone had to be the first Werewolf, Vampire, etc…”

“In 1525, Vigo the Carpathian was the first Addams, and from him borne necromancers and mediums,” Mr. Addams explained.

“So, what are my sons?”

“The Entity Beyond the Wall,” Morticia explained, “called them Waste Locks. They are a foci for the negative energy by product produced by Normies. Given the state of the Normie world, I’m not surprised they begot a newborn Eldritch Horror from the Void. Your sons are balancers of Existence. If they stop feeding the Wall…well, we’d see that adorable little Horror on this side of reality.”

Mr. and Mrs. Addams giggled as if the monster ending Existence as they knew it was some cute action of a toddler.

“You’ll love Nevermore,” Mr. Addams told the Loomis brothers, as obviously there was nowhere else for them to go. “It’s like no other boarding school. It’s a dark, magical place. It’s where I met Morticia,” and he turned to his wife with an adoring gaze, “and we fell in love.”

Ajax was excited about the prospect; he had worried his unique urges would doom him to a lonely life where all he would have were his brothers.

The Wall followed them to Nevermore as it had to each new house when they moved, they each had followed their instincts to a door that Weems said had not been there before, and just like with every house, the stairs went down for miles and there was the same stark white room.

Their student guide was a cheerful blonde who had red eyes and wolf ears protruding from the top of her head. She had a wide wicked smile and her canines just a tad too long.

“Welcome to Nevermore,” her red eyes roamed up and down Ajax, as if she wanted to devour him.

He would welcome her to do so as he smiled back.

She showed them around and explained all the Outcasts who had the same desire for blood and flesh, as they had.

The Werewolves feasted on human hearts and livers.

The Sirens sang a song that led men to their doom to feast on their bodies.

Vampires craved blood.

“And that there is our resident torture artist,” she pointed to a tall blond who was painting a raven mural across the quad.

“Don’t you mean, ‘tortured artist?’” Ethan asked as he was certain that was the usual saying.

“No,” she gave a humored smile. “That’s Xavier Thorpe, he and Wednesday Addams are the only ones here to kill for sport and play with their victims. They help feed the Wolves and Vamps who aren’t as adept at killing so they don’t waste the blood or bodies, but otherwise they don’t have to kill, they just like doing it. Do watch out,” she warned, “both are particularly territorial and jealous of each other. They’ve killed other students who got too handsy.”

Wednesday Addams, who inherited her mother’s beauty and her father’s ardor, had walked up to Xavier and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. As their hands roamed each other’s bodies, it seemed to be a normal occurrence as students and teachers alike simply walked past them.

In any other school, they would have been given detention for the public display, but it seemed in a school filled with killers, no one would bother to chide them.

The Loomis brothers had found their place in Nevermore, and each killed to their hearts’ content.

Billy found a fellow cinephile in a Normie who attended Jericho High, Stu Macher. He expressly forbade anyone from killing him.

Ethan had joined the theatre club and was the least bloodthirsty Loomis brother. He was more content to help his brothers find and clean up after their victims rather than kill.

Ajax found himself enamored with Enid and had asked her out on a date. They picnicked under a crescent moon, and he had carved out a heart and liver for her himself.

He also found a kindred spirit in Xavier, who found a thrill in the kill and wasn’t afraid to get absolutely covered in blood.

The Wall was just as enamored with Wednesday as it was with her mother. The Loomis brothers had caught Xavier and Wednesday several times making love in the blood of their victims and painting their own unique “art” on the Wall.

The four friends and Billy kept the Wall generously fed and quickly became known as Nevermore’s most prodigious killers.   

[psychic-refugee]

I have a fun moodboard and blurb with this AU. Wednesday is the daughter of Selena Kyle and Xavier is the son of the Joker.

https://www.tumblr.com/psychic-refugee/720939825683890176/wenvier-bingo-tim-burton-cinematic-universe

I won't lie to you personally I don't like to think about the Joker with Catwoman as a couple because the truth I like to think more about the Joker with Harley Quinn and Catwoman with Batman but I'm not going to lie to you either because the truth I only liked them in the versions of the ship of the characters of Merlina and Xavier together. I must say that both Xavier and Merlina would be excellent Joker and Catwoman. Since they both make an excellent couple if they ask me personally

By the way, this beautiful fanart of them like Catwoman and Joker is not mine and the credits are not for me but I warn you that right here I am going to leave you the link of the true creator of this masterpiece on Pinterest

[psychic-refugee]

For @novemberwasgrey

Theme: Baby Announcement (Fluff)

Photo credit to "Gothic Baby," daughter of Reby and Matt Hardy. Check out the tiktoks, they're super cute and hilarious.

Wednesday and Xavier Addams are dreaded to announce the birth of their precious poisonous flower, Belladonna Nyx Addams.

At six months, Belladonna loves strolls through the family cemetery, her pet scorpion Nero II, naptime in the Addams family cradle, and mashed peas.

She is regularly kidnapped by her grandparents, the proud and doting Morticia and Gomez Addams, to the point Wednesday has considered a restraining order.

Wednesday has been talked out of filing police reports by her loving husband, Xavier, who reminds his beloved wife that it leaves her more time to write.

Although Wednesday nearly attacked both her parents when they took Belladonna for a long weekend and suggested the happy couple use the time to “work on number 2.”

The fact that Wednesday is already pregnant is irrelevant and it is the principal of the matter.

Oleander Thorpe Addams is born a little less than a year following his sister.

Morticia tries not to look too smug as she holds her second grandchild, after so many years of Wednesday insisting she would never follow in her footsteps.

Wednesday scoffs and merely tells Xavier that they have to at minimum have four.

“If I can’t shirk off the legacy of my mother by having zero children, then I must have more than she did.”

Xavier merely smiled as he certainly loved his children, and he loved making them with Wednesday.

“Whatever you say, dearest,” he then kissed her forehead and chuckled, knowing that she merely needed to save her pride as she learned she adored her children and perhaps her mother’s life was not so bad after all.