#eye woman is Ophelia | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deebris · 3 months ago

Text

Between us

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: This would be the first night you and Bruce would spend together as father and daughter, something you had been eagerly looking forward to. Everything seemed peaceful during dinner until the main singer of the restaurant, Bruce's ex-girlfriend from many years ago, decided to show up and stir things up.

Warnings: Mentions cheating, discrimination agaisnt people with physical disabilities (not from Bruce, not from you), a bit of angst, fluff at the end.

Word count: 5.2k

Note: This is part of The Mysterious Visitor universe, but for those who haven’t read it: the reader is Damian’s twin (though there are no physical descriptions of her), and Talia kept it a secret from Bruce even after her son became Robin. The reader began living with the Batfamily at the age of 13.

You smiled as you reached the last step of the staircase and heard the melody of Dream a little dream of me being played. This restaurant wasn’t very different from those you used to visit with your mother, but it was still different in many ways. It was a large hall, full of yellow lights and whispers from the various conversations happening simultaneously, but what caught your attention most was the singer. Her voice was powerful, yet as soft as a feather. Her arms moved gracefully, as if she knew precisely where to guide them.

Today, it was just you and Bruce, but you had barely entered the place before several men in fine suits began greeting him and making jokes, most of which you didn’t understand. Your smaller figure went unnoticed, and you made no effort for this, staying in your personal silence while you admired the chandeliers and walls with wide eyes. The place wasn’t discreet and was obviously very expensive.

You liked observing people. Many beautiful young women were laughing, but what drew your attention were the unique hairstyles and dresses each of them wore. As Bruce tried to follow the waiter to your table, someone would rise from their own seat every few seconds to talk to him. Yet despite all the handshakes, he never let go of your hand. Until an older lady noticed the little girl Bruce Wayne had brought along:

“And who is this young lady, Bruce?” she asked with a warm smile, and you finally stopped looking around to focus on the people your father was conversing with.

“This is my daughter, Ophelia,” he said, calling the woman by her first name with familiarity. Bruce had a certain affection for her, as she had been a friend of his mother when she was alive.

“Oh! Martha would have been so happy to see the two of you.” She placed a hand on her chest and gently stroked your chin. “And where have you been hiding her?”

“She lived with her mother, but she’s staying with me now,” Bruce replied, beaming at the lady, who excitedly called her husband and son, likely around your father’s age, to come greet you. They were among the few people you truly enjoyed meeting.

It didn’t take long for you two to finally reach your table. Bruce pulled out a chair for you to sit, then took his own. The waiter immediately poured wine for him, while your glass remained filled only with water.

“Do you like the music?” he suddenly asked, noticing how you were staring at the musicians.

“I do,” you said, starting to fiddle with the napkins. “I tried playing the flute once,” you mentioned, and Bruce loved when you initiated conversations without realizing it. It made it easier for him to learn more about you, and in a way, it was an endearing trait of your personality.

“Tried? Why did you give up?” He kept the conversation going, relaxed in his chair and entirely focused on every small expression you made.

“I didn’t have enough breath to blow,” you snapped your lips in frustration, remembering how disappointing it was not to be able to play. Your father wanted to laugh internally but did everything to hold it back, knowing it would irritate you. “Do you play anything?”

“I used to play piano, but I’ve had no time, and I barely remember the last time I touched one,” he squinted as he spoke, and you felt sad seeing how much he seemed to miss the instrument.

“Why is there a woman in costume over there?” you asked suddenly, changing the subject entirely, and your father had to turn his head to see whom you were talking about. There was a woman in flamboyant clothes and a white wig talking to a man Bruce recognized as the owner of the establishment.

“She’s the opera singer who used to perform here when it was still a theater.” He got comfortable in his seat again and opened the menu. “She only goes on stage at 10. If you want, we can stay and watch her later.”

“This used to be a theater?” you perked up, scanning the room again, trying to imagine how it must have looked years ago, without all these tables and with an audience facing the stage. Bruce smiled internally, having caught on that your curiosity had been piqued.

“When the old owner died, his son decided to turn the place into a restaurant,” he glanced briefly at you and noticed how you were expecting him to say more. “The boy didn’t live in the city, and when he came back, he thought the business was too archaic. But he decided to keep some of the staff as a tradition.”

“I wish I could have watched a play here,” you said, frustrated, resting your head between your hands. Bruce thought about telling you to take your arms off the table but dismissed the idea.

“You’ve never seen one?” He turned to the next page, evaluating the meals.

“No… Only on TV,” you replied, poking at the edge of the other menu the waiter had left for you but not bothering to open it.

“We can go one day. I’ll take you,” he said after finally deciding what to order, but before calling the waiter, he looked at you curiously. “Have you decided what you want to eat?”

“I…” you hesitated for a moment. “Can you choose for me?” you asked with pleading eyes.

Bruce frowned. He opened his mouth to understand but closed it immediately. He had noticed details about your behavior like this in recent weeks—small, seemingly insignificant things that still managed to catch him by surprise. It was normal for children your age to choose what they wanted to eat, but it seemed Talia had been very strict about your diet. Alfred prepared your meals, and Bruce couldn’t recall you refusing any of them. Fortunately, you seemed easygoing in this aspect.

“Are you sure you don’t want to choose? Something savory instead of sweet?” he suggested, and you thought for a moment but nodded. Bruce knew about your fondness for sweets, which made him sometimes push you to avoid them.

Bruce raised his hand to call the waiter, but suddenly a high-pitched female voice approached from behind. Neither of you had noticed when the singer had finished her song, stepping away from the microphone while the band played without vocals, heading toward your table.

“Bruce Wayne!” she called out excitedly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Your father looked at her, not expecting her to come over, barely noticing the man accompanying her until he also started speaking, though more loudly than her.

“Miss Conti,” Bruce muttered her name uncomfortably. “Mr. Williams,” he acknowledged the restaurant’s owner. After Williams took over the place following his father’s death, Conti was hired as the main attraction. The two had a public affair, something socially frowned upon, but for some reason, the man’s wife tolerated the scandal.

“Mr. Wayne, I needed to talk to you. Are you enjoying the evening?” Williams attempted to start, but he was interrupted:

“Oh, come on, Bruce. You know you can call me Cecilia,” the woman chimed in, rubbing your father’s shoulder with her thumb before removing her hand completely and then noticing you sitting next to him. She opened an even bigger smile, though her eyes didn’t follow suit, widening with curiosity. “And who’s this lovely girl here?”

Bruce let out a small laugh, happy to mention you. “This is my daughter.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter. How’s Richard doing? Still as confident as when he was a boy? God, he must be a grown man by now.” She made comment after comment but didn’t give Bruce a chance to respond before she started speaking again: “Oh, but you’re such a cute little thing.” She approached your chair, cautiously analyzing your face, running her fingers over your earlobe and then sliding them along your jaw. You had no other reaction but to thank her, feeling uncomfortable with her touch and very confused about who they were.

“You’re very beautiful too, Miss,” you said sincerely. The woman before you was truly stunning. Her blonde hair was impeccably styled in an elegant bun, and her makeup remained flawless, without a smudge. She wore an orange dress adorned with small sparkling stones that glimmered under the lights. Your teenage eyes were captivated by her appearance. She didn’t seem to be more than 40 years old.

“Oh, hearing her speak makes her even more adorable,” she gestured in the air as if wanting to pinch your cheeks, softening her voice the way people often do when talking to pets.

“A really lovely young lady, if I may say so,” Williams added with an awkward smile as he pulled a chair from another table to sit. You looked at Bruce, confused, thinking it would just be the two of you. The woman did the same but, instead of fetching one herself, asked a random man in a staff uniform to bring her one. “Remember what we were discussing at the city library’s grand opening, Wayne?”

“George, forget business for a second. Let’s have some fun,” Cecilia cut him off. “Where did you two come from?” she asked you both.

“We were at the auction,” your father answered, tense at their lack of social grace. If you hadn’t been there, Bruce wouldn’t have hesitated to be rude and tell them to get lost, but in front of his children, he tried to keep that side of him in check.

“Oh! The one the opposing candidate, DuPont, organized?” she added a malicious tone to her voice, as if implying something. “I must say, I never thought I’d see you supporting one of your biggest competitors in Gotham’s mayoral race, Bruce.”

“We’re competitors, not enemies,” he tried to respond lightly. “Besides, I don’t see why we couldn’t end up collaborating.”

"You should have declared support for the current mayor. The citizens of Gotham tend to reelect the same names, as you well know. Carnegie will win again," the other man interrupted. Bruce, impatient, clenched his fists under the table, frustrated with the direction the conversation had taken. He had hoped for a quiet dinner alone with you to get to know you better, but it seemed he had chosen the wrong place.

"Mr. Williams, no offense intended, my only reason for being here is to have dinner with my daughter. Please, let’s put politics aside for tonight." He wished he could ask both of them to leave, but suddenly, Cecilia started talking to you. Bruce, visibly irritated, called the waiter, wanting to finish the meal as quickly as possible so he could leave. After placing his order, he turned to you and asked, "Carbonara?" Seeing you nod, he ordered that too.

"I'll go for an arugula salad with truffles," Cecilia said, her smile becoming increasingly irritating, seemingly oblivious to Bruce's displeasure.

"For me, a lobster ravioli with lemon foam and caviar," Williams added, just to be included, and you grimaced at the thought of caviar.

"What did you think of the auction? Did your father buy something special for you?" Cecilia turned to you at the table, with a noticeable interest in getting your attention.

"It was interesting, Miss Conti," you replied simply, using the surname you remembered your father mentioning.

"Oh, dear..." Cecilia said in a falsely disheartened tone. "Bruce drags you to these boring events? Girls your age usually prefer to go to the movies or something like that."

"I like movies," you said, irritated, not quite understanding what she was getting at. "And I enjoyed the auction. There were some very beautiful paintings there."

"Argh, I hope you’re not talking about those by Isabela Zaragoza." She picked up a wine glass the waiter had served a few minutes earlier and drank. "She can only sell her works at charity auctions." She let out a sarcastic laugh, and Mr. Williams joined in.

You looked at Bruce for a response, but all you saw was a hard look. Your father was hardly looking at any of you, breathing deeply with impatience. You didn’t like what they were doing; it seemed cruel, even though you had no idea who Isabela Zaragoza was.

"Oh, Bruce. You know it's true." She rolled her eyes, and it was clear that Cecilia was the dominant one in the duo, always very talkative and starting conversations. "In all of Gotham City, the only one who buys her art is your father. It must be out of pity; someone who paints with their feet probably won't get very far in their career."

You were shocked by what she said. It was something so unexpected to hear that you froze in place completely. It was absurdly cruel, and seeing your wide eyes, along with Bruce's furious expression, made Williams, who had been laughing with her earlier, become nervous.

"Cecilia!" He whispered her name sharply. "She was just joking. Zaragoza is a fantastic artist." He tried to ease the tense atmosphere, sweating coldly.

"I must say she paints better with her feet than you sing with your mouth, Miss Conti." Bruce suddenly replied in a dangerously low voice, and it seemed to hit a nerve with her, as the calluses that were forming in her voice knocked her confidence. He knew he was wrong to try to humiliate her back; it wasn’t a mature move, especially since he didn’t want you to take that as an example.

You let out a quiet laugh at that but immediately stopped when Bruce looked at you. He had a soft sadness, not of disappointment, but of concern. He regretted his own behavior and knew he would need to talk to you about what Cecilia and he had said later. The woman in question tried to laugh with you at first but miserably failed. It was obvious that Bruce had wounded her ego.

"When we were dating, you praised my voice a lot, Bruce." She suddenly mentioned, and you looked at him in surprise. You hadn’t noticed how your father had almost frozen in place before asking:

"You and my dad used to date?" Your voice carried genuine curiosity, and Mr. Williams beside you seemed uncomfortable with the topic.

"Yes, dear." She looked at you, then turned her face to Bruce mockingly. In the background, you could hear your father clearing his throat, trying to draw your attention away from the subject, but he couldn’t. "It's been many years. It was fun for a few months, that is until Robert found out, of course." She laughed a little too loudly for the setting, taking another sip from her glass.

"Who is Robert?" You asked, your voice dropping, your playful smile now gone due to the strangeness of the conversation.

"Oh, he was my husband." She said it as if it were nothing, and Bruce suddenly stood up from the table, moving to his seat and pulling you to leave. His expression had crumpled like paper as he stood up automatically, still processing what she had said.

"Let’s go." Bruce told you, embarrassed but trying to mask it with an expression of fury.

"But the dishes haven’t even arrived yet, Bruce." Cecilia melodramatically added, placing a hand on his arm, a silent request to stay.

"We're leaving." He repeated more firmly, pulling you by the shoulders away from her. Bruce leaned a bit over the table to face her head-on, and with harshness, he unleashed his anger on her: "I know what you're trying to do, you viper, and you will regret this. Never dare to approach me or her again."

"Did I say something wrong?" She spoke cynically, finally showing an expression that matched her feelings for him: disdain.

"Wayne, we can resolve this." William stood up from the chair, visibly shaken. The meticulous plan he had been crafting for months was crumbling before his eyes. Bruce's funding was the key to expanding the restaurant, and Cecilia had ruined everything. "I'm sure we can forget this incident if Ceci apologizes."

Bruce felt the tension rise in his body, the throb of a vein in his forehead, while the heat of irritation burned under his skin. "Do you think I’m going to accept something like that? In front of my daughter?" He spat the words, struggling to maintain his composure. His fists were clenched, ready for a blow that never came. It was only when you gently tugged on his arm that he made the decision to leave. As you walked out, William's frustrated shouts echoed through the hall, his anger directed at the blonde woman, who was furious at being dismissed immediately.

Bruce's frustration was palpable. The last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as inconvenient as Cecilia, especially in your presence. The shadow of his reckless past still hung over him, an open wound. Women like her were living reminders of the regrets that haunted him, of thoughtless choices he would do anything to change.

Near the exit, you spotted the opera singer again, and the memory of what your father had promised you tugged at your heart. "Aren't we going to stay to hear the opera lady?" your voice carried a twinge of sadness.

Bruce sighed, his fingers gently squeezing your shoulders, but the discomfort was evident on his face. "Sorry, I know you wanted that." The weight of the situation was palpable, and he couldn’t help but imagine what you were thinking about him now.

The chauffeur, caught off guard by the rush, quickly opened the door. Bruce, however, did not wait. He let you enter first, slamming the door shut as soon as he settled in. Inside the car, he exhaled the air he hadn’t realized he was holding, diverting his gaze to you. His focus was on the scenery, his face too serene, but he noticed how you were biting your nails—a small sign of nervousness.

He swallowed hard. What a terrible way to end the evening, right next to you. The silence hung heavy in the air, and he feared asking what was going through your mind. Who would have thought? Bruce Wayne, afraid of the words of a child.

For a moment, he watched you press your cheek against the glass, your eyes wandering over the city lights.

"S/n," he called your name, his voice hoarse. You murmured in response, waiting for him to continue. Bruce opened his mouth, but the words got lost along the way. His expression hardened, and he turned to the window as well, the silence remaining until you arrived at the mansion. And you, very focused on observing the movement of the streets, didn’t mind.

When you arrived at the entrance, Alfred was already there, helping you take off your thick coat at that very moment. The butler was surprised at how quickly the two of you returned. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t take long because of you, needing to sleep early, but he hadn’t expected it to be at this hour.

"Master Bruce, Miss Y/n. Did something happen?" He asked, noticing your silence. For Bruce, this was a common demeanor, but whenever your went out, you returned home commenting on every tiny detail of everything you saw.

"Boring people." You replied with a grimace, using that false tone of indifference that Alfred knew how to identify very well.

"Boring people?" He returned rhetorically while glancing at Bruce, who silently took off his own coat and exited the room without saying goodbye to either of you. He had certainly overheard the brief conversation but was ignoring you two. "There are always a few." The older man said with a smile at you.

“I don’t like going to places with a lot of people; it’s annoying having to give everyone an explanation. But it was nice to go out with Bruce.” You started voicing your thoughts aloud, and Alfred knew you wouldn’t hold back in front of him.

Sometimes he felt like you treated him as a sort of confidant, a diary, but then he realized you didn’t make an effort to hide anything from anyone in particular, except for extremely specific things. Another clear sign of Talia. She must have raised you to be like this, as no other girl your age would likely be so open.

“Did you have fun with him?” The butler continued encouraging you.

“Yes!” You became animated again, just as you had on other occasions. It seemed like all you needed was a little push to break the ice. “He let me place bids at the auction. I even competed with someone.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes!” You repeated the exasperated expression. “In the end, I almost didn’t place a final bid because the money got really high, but Bruce said to keep going.”

“And what did you get?” Alfred asked, guiding you to the kitchen. At some point, you would ask for his hot chocolate, so he preferred to get ahead of it.

“It was a compass from the colonial era.” You followed him and sat in the middle chair at the counter, one of the seats in front of the stove, since watching the butler cook had become one of your hobbies. It happened so often that everyone knew that chair was yours, and only you sat in it. “The money went to the children from the orphanage, so Bruce said I could.”

“Well done.” He replied, very focused on something but still paying attention to every word you said. Just then, Jason entered the kitchen, surprised to see you there, just like Alfred.

“You got back early.” He commented, recognizing the situation, raising his eyebrows at the butler, who gave him a keen look as he watched him head for the fridge. “What happened?” The boy asked, lacking any real interest.

“Bruce argued with a couple at the restaurant after the auction.” You said, resting your head on the counter, and Alfred could feel his ears itching. He had finally arrived at the point he wanted. “I saw a motorcycle like yours when we were coming back.” You added for your brother.

“Bruce argued at the restaurant?” Jason questioned you, ignoring your last sentence, not out of malice, but because he didn’t expect the animated man who had left home earlier to come back with such news.

“It wasn’t really a fight.” You tried to correct yourself, feeling guilty for revealing this since neither of them seemed very happy. “He just ended up discussing.”

Alfred extended an arm toward Jason as if asking for permission to interject in the matter. “Miss Y/n, who did Master Bruce argue with?”

You worried you were saying too much and might upset Bruce later because of it, but the way things happened, you knew the people at the tables around must have seen the scene, even if they didn’t know the context. Sooner or later, they would know who the parties involved were.

“A man named... Williams I think.” You whispered, looking at a random point as you tried to remember his name, losing Jason’s incredulous expression as he recognized the name of the place’s owner. “And a woman named Cecilia Conti.” The last name made Alfred nod silently, as he remembered the woman well.

“What did those two do to annoy him?” Jason dared to ask, looking at the butler with curiosity. The man was good at hiding feelings, but he sensed that Alfred knew very well the last person. The name wasn’t strange, but still, it wasn’t someone Jason recalled being mentioned with any importance.

The delay in hearing your answer made the two of them stare at you again in confusion. You pulled your hands from the counter and joined them in your lap, never meeting their gazes. It was an uncomfortable situation for you, and unfortunately very disappointing, but you knew Bruce wouldn’t want you to go around sharing this. If you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t want anyone to know either. It wasn’t something that should be simply said.

“I don’t know.” You whispered again, looking up to see if they believed you. Obviously, neither of them did, but Jason was clever and changed the subject.

“So you saw a motorcycle like mine, huh?” He moved closer to you, holding a bottle of tonic water he had taken from the fridge. “Which one was it?”

“I don’t understand motorcycles.” You replied with a discouraged huff.

Jason glanced at Alfred and noticed that he was watching you both the whole time. Knowing him well, Jason realized that Alfred would go after Bruce to understand the story since you obviously didn’t want to tell.

“I was going to take a look at the exhaust on mine. Want to come with me?” He asked, remembering how you enjoyed learning a bit more about how the systems worked when he showed you last week. “I’ll let you get your hands dirty this time.”

“Are you serious?” You asked excitedly, smiling when you saw him shrug, but you quickly widened your eyes as you remembered something: “I can’t, I need to sleep. First day of school.”

Your statement made Jason check his wristwatch, looking at the time. He looked at you as if feeling sorry, saying, “Good luck, squirt.” And he headed to the garage of the Batcave, from which you suspected he had just come.

Alfred was happy that Jason was bonding with you. Knowing the boy's genius, the older man thought he would resist developing some kind of relationship, very different from Dick. But apparently, your nature pleased him since he didn’t shy away from spending time in your presence, like now.

Before midnight, you had already washed your hair and were trying to dry it with a hairdryer, but it was a bit difficult to stretch your arm back. You were clumsy, and usually, your mother did that for you, but after a few minutes, you managed. The problem was that everything got messy, and you wanted to sleep so you wouldn’t be tired the next day, but you had to detangle it or it would be worse. You must have been very focused while trying to fix your hair because you didn’t even notice your father opening the door.

“You’ve got everything ready.” Bruce said, analyzing the clothes on your sofa, with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, having only taken off his jacket. “Excited for the first day of school?” He asked you with a strange tone.

“I think I’m more nervous.” Your response came with a furrowed brow, wondering what the day would be like. You had never been to school before, and it seemed Damian and Tim were really good there, so you felt a bit pressured to at least try not to embarrass them with poor performance.

“I still remember how it was for me.” He continued, watching your uniform with a melancholic gaze, reliving some old memory. Bruce liked how well ironed everything was, and it made him proud to know that you did it all by yourself. “You’ll do fine, trust me. A girl like you won’t have many problems making friends or getting good grades.”

“Alfred helped me choose the shoes.” You pulled out a pair of low-heeled white dress shoes to show him. They were delicate and would certainly stand out against the uniform. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are.” Bruce smiled, looking more at you than at the shoes themselves. “Have you eaten?” He asked, concerned.

You grimaced and took a moment to respond, letting out a hesitant “Yes.”

“Did you really eat?” He gave you a disapproving look, not convinced.

“Hot chocolate.” You let out the answer you knew he didn’t want to hear. You ate a bit of everything, including healthy stuff, but your sweet tooth was hard to control.

“You have to eat something besides sweets before bed.” He said, trying not to give in to the remorseful look you gave him. But the feeling of guilt hit him, knowing he should have ensured you had dinner at the restaurant.

“But I already brushed my teeth.” Your mumble made him sigh, searching for words to bring up a topic he wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Sorry... For what happened there.” He took his hands out of his pockets and sat on the bed, extending his arm for you to come to him. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.” His voice was in an unnatural tone, firm and grave, but your silence notably bothered him.

“S/n.” He called your name, seeing your face look up to meet his. “You can be angry. You don’t have to pretend.”

“Why should I be angry?” Your question was innocent. Although it was disappointing, you didn’t feel angry at him. Besides, before you got to know him for real, Bruce Wayne was already a famous figure. His personal life was constantly in the newspapers.

“I want you to know that back then I was young and stupid.” He ran his hand along your arm as if wanting to offer some kind of comfort. The realization that you could have changed your opinion about him was killing him since you two left there, and he worried about doing something wrong concerning you, as Bruce wanted your trust, and he knew Talia wouldn’t let any mistake slip by before coming back and throwing it in his face. “I’ve changed. Do you understand me?”

“So you wouldn’t do that again?” You asked calmly, and that relieved him.

“No, never again. That was the first and last time.” He placed the hand that was on your arm to gently caress your cheek, suddenly remembering the time. He couldn’t take much more of your time. “There’s something more important I want to talk to you about as well. What Conti said about Miss Zaragoza…”

“It was wrong,” you quickly added, noticing how conflicted he seemed about what had happened.

“And what I said after…” Bruce continued, trying to find the right way to say it, but you spoke up again:

“That was wrong too.” Your soft voice sounded in understanding.

“Smart girl.” He smiled slightly, placing his hand on top of your head. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?” you asked, rubbing your sleepy eyes.

“Can you not mention Miss Conti to Dick?” Bruce continued looking at you attentively, noticing the silly expression on your face. He felt genuinely grateful to see that the incident hadn’t affected your mood towards him. “Your brother doesn’t like her either.” Bruce gave you a light pinch on your side, which made you laugh.

“Alright!” you murmured as you got up, now excited thinking about the day ahead. “No telling Dick.” You emphasized, already pulling the covers up to lie down.

Bruce had also stood up, going to the switch to turn off the light when your voice sounded again: “Can you take me to school tomorrow? Just to the entrance.”

“I will,” he replied calmly. “And no more sweets for the rest of the week. I won’t go easy on you.” Bruce said finally, turning off the switch and carefully closing your bedroom door.

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forthegothicheroine · 28 days ago

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I don't know if you do requests for the Great Detectives, but I'd love to see how you think the Great Detectives would handle the murder of King Hamlet of Denmark.

This is a GREAT one! The big question is whether they all talk to the ghost of the dead king; I think I'm going to have to take that on a case-by-case basis, with whatever feels right for any specific detective.

So, in a series I do sometimes, how would various great detectives solve the murder of King Hamlet...

Sherlock Holmes: Well, obviously ghosts don't exist, so jot that down. But in Holmes's experience, living humans often pretend to be ghosts (or even make dogs pretend to be ghosts!) so who could this be? The young prince Hamlet, who everybody says has gone mad? Holmes deduces that he isn't mad at all, and is in fact conducting psychological warfare against his hated uncle; while Holmes disapproves, he concludes that the boy is completely right about Claudius due to his knowledge of the play The Murder of Gonzago, as seen when he's upset about changes in a production. The Murder of Gonzago is a play which premiered in a town in Denmark known for its manufacturing of poisons for pest control!

Hercule Poirot: Poirot is quite sad to hear that the monarch who invited him as a celebrity guest has died; why does this always have to happen when he goes on vacation? Polonius spies on the guy to see what he's up to, but Poirot is much better at snooping on people than he is, and nobody can keep anything hidden for very long. He gives a summation where he reveals Claudius killed his brother. Prince Hamlet immediately goes to attack his uncle and they struggle over a sword. King Claudius falls dead and Poirot bows out, because determining whether Hamlet should suffer consequences or just become king is not his department.

Sam and Peter: Hear me out- if we bump Hamlet down from ambiguously college-aged to ambiguously high school aged, we can replace Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. These two nerdy kids are shipped in to cheer their friend (more like acquaintance) Hamlet up, and to his surprise, they respond to his depressing monologues by taking notes and asking for further details on why the world is so corrupt. Hamlet isn't so happy about them doing an investigation into "What is up with Hamlet's super hot mom?" but when they suggest interviewing Claudius to see if he has the face of a liar, he enlists them to help out with putting on The Murder of Gonzago. The rest of the play mostly goes the same, but they find the letter Claudius planted on them and show it to Hamlet. One of the last lines of the play is when Fortinbras is looking at everyone lying dead, but then Osric points out "Sam and Peter are alive!"

Phryne Fisher: Phryne is a dubious (if genteel) woman Laertes has taken up with, whom Polonius is doing everything in his power to drive away. Phryne doesn't care, but it does bring her attention to the fact that the man is apparently constantly spying on everyone in the castle. On whose behalf is he doing this? King Claudius? Is he afraid someone may assassinate him because of his brother's suspicious death? What was the official story about that, anyway? She exchanges sexy insults with Prince Hamlet, refusing to be cowed, and ultimately agrees to play the queen in his production of The Murder of Gonzago (where she gets a little too into the love scene.) When she turns and looks directly in Claudius's eye in the audience during a crucial line, she can see the answer to everything. Claudius tries to convince Laertes to kill her, saying she corrupted Ophelia into being a whore for a mad prince, but Laertes can't go through with it and kills Claudius instead.

Dale Cooper: King Hamlet's ghost tells him who killed him in a dream, but Cooper doesn't remember. He befriends Horatio and tells him that in order to understand the death of the king, it is crucial for them to study an old Icelanic poem about a man who feigns madness, because the answer to the mystery lies somewhere within. Horatio doesn't totally get it, but he figures Cooper must know what he's doing and goes along with it. When everyone is gathered to watch a production of The Murder of Gonzago, Cooper first steps up onto the stage, guided by a spirit in the form of a snake wearing a crown, to announce that King Claudius killed his brother. Prince Hamlet immediately stabs his uncle. Determining whether Hamlet should suffer consequences or just become king is not Cooper's department.

Philip Marlowe: All I know is, most of this mystery involves him getting thrown off the palace grounds repeatedly and being told that a bum like him better keep away from King Claudius if he knows what's good for him. If he ever gets out of Denmark alive, Marlowe thinks to himself, he's never leaving LA during the winter ever again.

Sam Vimes: Vimes can actually interview the ghost, but that doesn't mean the case is closed. He's not worried about the ghost actually being a deceitful fiend, he just thinks there's a possibility he's wrong. After all, if Vimes was poisoned and his ghost found out some creepy relative immediately married his wife and took his job, he would also jump to conclusions! He spends a lot of time yelling at royal people and getting threatened with execution (Vimes doesn't know how his job ended up involving so many clashes with royalty, but so it goes), and is disrespectful of religion enough to spy on Claudius while he's having his remorseful confession. He can't arrest him, but he spreads the word around, and as the royal court dissolves into backstabbing and finger-pointing, Vetinari walks in with a full retinue (and more importantly, a list of all the debts Denmark owes to Ankh-Morpork) to evaluate the situation and congratulate Claudius on his "excellent decision" to abdicate. Claudius later dies of a totally natural snake bite in his ear.

Columbo:

Your Majesty, King Claudius, forgive My clumsy common nature. I am not A noble gentleman, nor do I live With such great honor as yourself- a thought, However, troubles me this night. For how Should some strange serpent come to bite a king? And why within his ear? It puzzles! Now, I beg that I may ask just one more thing…

#great detectives series #shakespeare #hamlet

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hotvintagepoll · 10 months ago

Text

Propaganda

Betty Blythe (The Queen of Sheba)—no propaganda submitted

Asta Nielsen (Hamlet)—She played a version of Hamlet in which Hamlet was in love with Horatio because he was a woman raised to pretend to be a man, and nothing else about the story is changed. Her depiction has inspired countless people and did SHRIMP things to my gender and sexuality. A vote for Asta is a vote for queer goths everywhere 🖤

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Betty Blythe:

Asta Nielsen:

"One of the best Hamlets I've ever seen, she's so expressive I can feel her pain. Also, goth girl/boy realness."

"I just think she is neat. She was the first real movie icon in Europe, known for her big dark eyes, 1,70m/5'7 height, and "boyish figure" which gave her an androgynous allure. She opposed the Nazi regime. Also, her role in Hamlet is not Ophelia. She plays Hamlet."

"I suspect the non-american silent movie stars are gonna be in the minority, so I'm gonna be at least throwing her name in the ring. Great danish dame, one of the very first female silent movie stars (wiki says "one of the first international movie stars")! Best Hamlet to ever To Be Or Not To Be and absolutely gender envy. Her career unfortunately did not survive the transition to talkies (she however lived pretty long)."

"I think she's not as iconic in America as she is in Europe, because her films got censored over there, but she really is the original sex symbol of film. I need everyone to take a look at her as Hamlet and to have watched this clip of her dance in The Abyss before you vote. It was hot then and it's still hot now!!!"

#asta nielsen #betty blythe #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 1

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usiel21 · 6 months ago

Text

The courting gift.

Thing: What about a diamond?

Wednesday: Don't be ridiculous Thing, Enid is worth more than any mere dia-

Thing: Oh no, i know that look.

Wednesday: Thing you are a genius.

Thing: ...This isn't going to end well.

1 Hour Later...

Wednesday: Enid, a family matter has arisen that i must attend to, I will be back by the end of the weekend.

Enid: Uh yeah sure, everything okay?

Wednesday: (Pause) Yes, it cannot wait. Don't wait up and if i shan't return, burn this school down and everyone inside.

Enid: Wow... you're such a psychopath! (Giggles)

Wednesday:

Wednesday: Flattery will... it won't... (Sigh) Los halagos no te llevarán a ninguna parte cuando ya me has capturado, en cuerpo, mente y alma.

Enid: (Smiling widely) I Love you too!

Wednesday: (Quietly) Do not jest with your words Mi loba.

Two Days Later...

Enid is stood in the common room of Ophelia Hall, watching the news with Yoko and Divinia.

News Presenter: ...We have some upsetting breaking news, The Tower of London was broken into last night where thieves took the Koh i noor, a diamond that was set in the crown of the Queen Mother. With an estimated value of Three Hundred Million Pounds, the jewel is said to be priceless. The Metropolitan Police in conjunction with Palace officials have confirmed that currently there are no suspects, this is without doubt one of the greatest heists in history, although authorities are baffled that only one item was taken.

Enid: Wow... what kind of person would steal from a dead woman's crown. (Shaking her head) Anyway laters, Wednesday is due back at any moment!

Yoko: (Grinning) Like a puppy eagerly awaiting their owners return at the door.

Enid: (Blushing) Shut up. Anyway i'll see you later!

Enid rushes up a flight of stairs, two steps at a time, a bounce in her step. She had missed Wednesday. She had missed her so much. She pushes open the door making Wednesday flinch.

Enid: Wends!

Wednesday: (Turning around sharply, hiding something behind her back) Mi loba.

Enid: (Narrowing her eyes.) What's behind your back?

Wednesday: ...Nothing.

Enid folds her arms with a pointed glare and tilt of her head.

Wednesday sighs, knowing she can't lie to Enid, not anymore, brings the item in front of her.

Enid: Wednesday... please tell me you have a really, really good reason for having the fucking Koh-i-noor in our dorm room???

Wednesday: (Weakly) I stole it for you. I planned to give it to you this coming full Moon. To court you.

Enid:

Enid: Wends... all you had to do was ask me out for a coffee or something, not commit the greatest heist in living history! (Tearily) But oh em gee, you did this? for me?

Wednesday: I would do anything for you, my fierce, fluorescent wolf.

Enid: (Preening and blushing) Oh my gosh... I'm going to have to get used to that huh?

Wednesday: (Striding forwards) As long as I breathe every breath will be spent making sure you never feel unloved ever again.

Enid: (Squeaking as Wednesday gets within several inches of Enid's face)

Enid: You...I...uh... you love me?

Thing:

Thing: Oh fer fuck sake, just propose already!

45 Mins later...

Thing: These lesbians, i can't anymore. They keep making googly eyes at each other from across the room and smiling, a hand can only stand to watch so much you know?

Weems: Wait... Wednesday AND Enid???

Thing: YES!

Weems: Wednesday smiling?

Thing: YES!

Weems: (Muttering) God help us all...

(The Koh-i-noor is never found)

#wenclair #this turned into quite the mini story #Wednesday would steal the greatest diamond in the world for Enid #prove me wrong #they're so gay

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callmeby-mylastname · 2 months ago

Text

bewitched

-i was bored and this is lame but enjoy this short little thing

-i haven’t proof read this guys it’s like 6am i’m tired 🙏😔

You were bewitched, completely enthralled. Wednesday addams had you under a spell a curse more accurately.

you had a strange relationship with the goth girl, you met due to you’re particularly bubbly friend and immediately you tried your charm, it was a miserable attempt she acted like you didn’t even exist.

over a course of a few months your relationship grew, not exponentially but it grew. spending time alone together, her helping you with homework, you helping with her investigation, asking about her novel. it was a slow burn but god you lived for it.

there was so much that enchanted you about the woman that you swear the devil constructed her to torture you.

she had these brown deep eyes that stole your attention, you couldn’t tear your gaze away everytime you were lucky enough to have her watch.

her faint freckles kissed her face in a way you could only wish to, they were so perfectly placed like an angel came down and tirelessly laboured over every placement.

her bangs flowed down her face so effortlessly, she was so effortless it’s truly baffling how perfect one person could be, like she’s ripped straight from a painting.

you caught her with her hair down once, you were bored and it was late so you were heading down to ophelia hall to make it enid’s problem. you quietly opened the door and saw her standing talking to thing who was situated on her desk.

she took your breath away, literally it felt like you got a punch to the stomach. she turned her head in your direction, her eyes widened for a second but she soon relaxed once she recognised you.

you handled it rather smoothly actually. “you’re beautiful bye!” and swiftly closed the door behind you as you ran back to your dorm.

if you had stayed a couple seconds longer maybe you would’ve witnessed thing teasing the goth girl for the blush that rose to her cheeks.

her lips entranced you, they were like a magnet your eyes constantly flickering towards their delicate form, you never knew if she caught you or not and frankly you were to embarrassed to find out the answer.

she did. every time and maybe if your head didn’t turn away quickly you’d see her quickly glance towards yours.

just her. she was perfect in an unexplainable way she was smart, cunning, determined, and quite frankly way to sassy.

you were bewitched, and the addams couldn’t get you out of her head either.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

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deliciousangelfestival · 5 months ago

Text

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! -18

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

Warning: Tragedy, Angst, Manipulation, Intimidation

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Everything related to Celestial Enterprises has fallen to the ground. Once a conglomerate company, now it’s just a name.

You watch everything on the TV beside Cassandra's bed. She’s still weak since the incident. Reading the headlines about Celestial, you say, “We won, Grandma. Wish you could see it.”

Then the door opens, and Bucky comes in with flowers in his hand. He smiles at you, “How is she?”

You glance at Cassandra and sigh, “Every time I come by, she gets tired easily and falls asleep. But the nurse and doctor said she’s getting better.”

Bucky nods, understanding all too well. He went through the same phase—his trauma triggered, and he got drowned in his nightmares again.

“Give her a moment,” Bucky says gently.

He steps closer, placing the flowers in a vase on the bedside table. You notice the care in his actions, the way he adjusts the petals so they look just right. It’s a small gesture, but it means the world in a place like this.

“Have you eaten?” Bucky asks, turning his attention back to you.

“No,” you admit, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders.

“Then let’s get something to eat,” he suggests, his tone leaving no room for argument. He offers his hand, and you take it, grateful for the support. You glance at his hand, noting the absence of gloves. The gesture strikes you—evidence that he’s moved past his trauma.

As both of you leave the room, you take one last look at Cassandra. The door closes softly behind you. Unseen by you, Cassandra’s eyes flutter open. She clenches the blanket with her hand, her grip strong and determined.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

At the Hospital

All the hard work that Jonathan has poured into Celestial Enterprises has come to nothing. Losing the company has shattered his soul more than losing Ophelia ever did. The company was his life, the reason why he breathed.

It doesn’t stop there. It turns out his wife, Genevieve, is related to a criminal mastermind who kidnapped Bucky. Not only is he bankrupt, but he also married a woman with a criminal past. Genevieve is on her knees, tears streaming down her face as she begs for his forgiveness.

“I had no part in it,” she sobs. “I didn’t know.”

Jonathan, still stuck in the hospital bed, looks at her with pure disdain. “You’re disgusting.”

Genevieve’s heart sinks. The only person in this world who could help her is him. She doesn’t understand why she’s connected to Bucky’s kidnapping. She wasn’t involved at all. Victoria is gone, and all their assets are frozen because of the bankruptcy.

She has no friends left to ask for help. The socialites who once fawned over her now shun her. Desperation clings to her like a second skin as she looks around the sterile hospital room, searching for a lifeline.

“You have to believe me,” Genevieve pleads, her voice breaking. “I didn’t know about Bucky. I never would have—”

Jonathan interrupts her, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. “You’re nothing but a parasite. I should have seen it from the start. You latched onto me, thinking you could rise above your sordid past. But you’ve dragged me down into the mud with you.”

Genevieve’s eyes widen in shock and anger. “How dare you? After everything I’ve done for you, for this family?”

Jonathan sneers. “Done for me? You’ve done nothing but ruin everything you touch. You’re a cancer, Genevieve. And now, because of you, everything I’ve built is gone.”

Her hands shake with fury and desperation. “You think you’re so perfect? You think you’re blameless in all this? All of this happened because of your daughter!"

Jonathan’s eyes flash with anger. “Get out. I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

Genevieve’s vision blurs with rage and hurt. In a moment of blind fury, she grabs a syringe from the nearby tray and stabs it into Jonathan’s chest. He gasps, eyes wide with shock and pain.

A nurse, who just entered to check on Jonathan, sees the attack and screams, “Security! Help!”

Genevieve looks at the horror-struck nurse, then at Jonathan, whose eyes are starting to glaze over. Panic takes over. She pulls the syringe out and drops it, her hands covered in blood.

Without thinking, she bolts from the room, running through the hospital corridors. Alarms blare, and footsteps echo as security personnel rush to intercept her.

Genevieve’s mind races as she runs, knowing she has nowhere to go and no one left to turn to. The life she once knew is in ruins, and now she’s on the run, a fugitive from the consequences of her own desperation and rage.

The news traveled fast, and you soon heard that Jonathan got hurt again, this time because of his own wife. “Wow, karma,” you muttered under your breath.

You touched your grandma's hand, still resting as she slept. “He got what he deserved. Now all that's left is that woman.”

Your thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Glancing at the screen, you saw it was a call from the hospital. Answering it, you heard the voice of Jonathan’s doctor on the other end.

“Your father is in a coma,” the doctor said gravely.

You felt a surge of emotions but quickly composed yourself. Before leaving, you kissed Cassandra’s forehead gently. “I’ll be back soon, Grandma,” you whispered.

Arriving at the hospital, you walked through the sterile corridors to Jonathan’s room. The sight of him, lifeless and hooked up to machines, brought a strange mix of satisfaction and pity.

You leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “All those years, you ignored me, abandoned me. Now look at you. Helpless. Everything you built is gone. Your wife betrayed you, your company is ruined, and your precious Victoria is gone. This is the end for you. You did this to yourself.”

You let the words sink in, hoping he could somehow hear the pain and anger you had been carrying for so long. After you finished, you straightened up, feeling a strange sense of closure.

Just then, your phone rang again. This time, it was the nurse from Cassandra’s care facility.

“Your grandmother is missing,” the nurse said, her voice frantic.

“What? How could she go missing?” you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest.

You hurried out of the hospital, trying to think where she could have gone. The streets seemed to blur as you drove, your mind racing with worry and fear.

“Where could she be?” you whispered, hoping for a miracle.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Genevieve went to Valerie's studio to hide and to find the secret stash of money she had hidden there. She needed it to run away, to call in old favors for a new identity and passport. As she hurriedly prepared to leave, her hands shaking with a mix of fear and desperation, a pair of scissors fell, landing perilously close to her fingers.

“Oops. My hand slipped,” came a cold, calm voice.

Genevieve shrieked, her eyes widening in horror as she saw Cassandra standing in front of her, a chilling smile on her face.

“Hii!!!” Genevieve shrieked, shocked to the core.

Cassandra’s eyes were icy and piercing. “You’ve taken my daughter’s life, stolen the childhood of my granddaughter. Now it’s your turn to live in hell.”

Genevieve backed away, trembling. “You…you’re crazy!” she stammered.

Cassandra stepped closer, her voice steady and unyielding. “You ruined everything. Jonathan was a fool to fall for you, but you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Genevieve tried to muster some defiance. “Jonathan loved me!”

Cassandra laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Love? You don’t know the meaning of the word. You manipulated him, tore our family apart, and for what? Power? Money?”

Genevieve's face twisted in anger. “You can’t do this to me! I won’t let you!”

In a swift motion, Cassandra slapped Genevieve across the face. “Aww,” Genevieve whimpered, holding her stinging cheek. She couldn’t believe this old woman had the nerve to strike her, and the fact that Cassandra’s expression remained unchanged was even more unsettling.

Now Genevieve understood where your temperament came from. Not from Jonathan, or even from your late mother, but from Cassandra.

“You won’t get away with this,” Genevieve hissed, trying to sound brave.

Cassandra’s eyes bore into hers, unflinching. “Oh, but I already have. Your life as you know it is over. You have nowhere to run, no one to turn to. You’re alone, just like you made us feel.”

Genevieve's bravado crumbled, tears welling up in her eyes. “Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

Cassandra shook her head slowly. “It’s too late for apologies. You’ll pay for what you’ve done. Enjoy your hell, Genevieve.”

The fight between Genevieve and Cassandra continued to rage on, a chaotic blend of anger and desperation. The studio echoed with the sounds of their struggle—Genevieve's frantic, panicked shouts and Cassandra's fierce, unrelenting movements.

Genevieve, despite her earlier bravado, was struggling. She tried to fend off Cassandra’s relentless attacks, but the old woman was surprisingly strong.

Each time Genevieve attempted to counterattack, Cassandra met her with a forceful push or a sharp jab, her movements precise and driven by years of suppressed rage. Genevieve’s face was contorted in fear and disbelief as she realized Cassandra was far more formidable than she had anticipated.

Suddenly, the sound of sirens pierced through the air. The studio door burst open, and a flood of police officers, followed by you and Bucky, stormed in. The sight before them stopped everyone in their tracks.

You and Bucky exchanged stunned glances. Despite her age, Cassandra fought with a raw, unfiltered strength that defied her appearance. Her face was a mask of determined fury, each movement fueled by years of pent-up anger and pain.

Genevieve, on the other hand, was visibly shaken, her attempts at resistance growing increasingly desperate as Cassandra's relentless assault continued.

The police officers hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to intervene without escalating the situation further. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and stepped forward.

“Grandma! Stop!” you commanded, your voice echoing through the studio.

Cassandra paused, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and turned to face you. Her eyes, usually so calm and composed, were now blazing with the intensity of her emotions. For a moment, she seemed to waver, the anger in her eyes softening just slightly.

Bucky moved quickly, stepping between the two women, his presence commanding and authoritative. “Everyone, calm down,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos. “We’re taking you both into custody.”

Genevieve, now visibly trembling, clutched her bleeding cheek, her bravado shattered. She looked at you with fear and resignation, realizing that her escape plan had crumbled.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

sThanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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whoops-all-jennas · 2 days ago

Text

Past Lives pt. 1

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: Wednesday transfers to Nevermore Academy and is your new roommate

a/n: I have decided that for a majority of the spells I'm just gonna take them from Harry Potter because I have a majority of those spells memorized lol (less work for me)

You're sat at your desk, studying a book about healing charms, while Enid is pacing back and forth through the center of the room.

Your dorm room was interesting. It is shaped like a short T, the entrance being where the lines cross. Each section has a big circular window that opens to a patio.

Your section, the section in the middle, is decorated with fake vines and string lights. Your night stand has a lantern on it next to your phone charger.

Enid's section matches her personality, bright and cheerful. She has tinted film over her window that illuminate her already colorful room.

The center of the room has a circular sunroof which Enid also managed to get the tint on.

"Enid, you're gonna burn a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that." You say without lifting your eyes away from your book.

"You heard what they say about her!" She stops pacing, looking at you with worry written on her face. "I really don't want to die in this school."

You look up from your book, making eye contact with Enid. "I don't think Principal Weems would allow a murderer into the school."

You stand to go comfort Enid, interrupted by the sound of people talking behind your dorm room.

As if they were waiting for the perfect moment to enter the room, the door opens, revealing a gothic family and Principal Weems. A girl with black hair braided on both sides of her head down past her shoulders stands between what you assume are her parents.

That must be our new roommate.

Enid turns around with a smile plastered on her face while you stand there idly.

Enid approaches Wednesday with new found excitement over the fact of getting a new roommate.

"Howdy roomie!" Enid exclaims, Wednesday stunned by her energy.

"Wednesday, this is Enid Sinclair." Principal Weems gestures her hand towards Enid before moving it to you. "And this is y/n y/l/n."

You stand where you are awkwardly, raising a hand in a wave.

Wednesday's eyesight lingers on you a little too long before she's interrupted.

"Are you okay? you look a little, pale." Enid says, her face shifting from excitement to worry.

"Wednesday always looks half dead." The man you assume to be Wednesday's dad answers for her.

Enid let's out a noise of acknowledgement before continuing.

"Welcome to Ophelia Hall!" Enid announces before opening her arms to embrace Wednesday.

Wednesday takes a step back to avoid her touch.

"Not a hugger, got it."

"Wednesday is allergic to color." The tall woman with dark hair says, her voice is naturally seductive.

You watch on, fidgeting with your foot. You assume it's exaggeration.

"Oh gosh, what happens to you?"

"I break out into hives and then the flesh peels off my bones." She has a very monotone voice, it's suits her dark aesthetic.

"Luckily, we've special ordered you a uniform." Your eyes slightly widen, focusing on Weems. She was serious?

You feel Wednesday's eyes on you for a moment, did you do something?

"Enid, y/n, take Wednesday to the registers office to pick it up along with a copy of her schedule." Principal Weems says looking at each of you.

"And give her a tour along the way."

Wednesday turns around, scowling at her parents before leaving the room. Enid skipping, following Wednesday out of the room with you taking a quick couple of steps to catch up.

"Nevermore was founded in 1791 to educate people like us. Outcasts, freaks, monsters. Fill in your favorite marginalized group here."

You're following along while Enid carries the tour, descending down a staircase.

"You can save the sanitized sales pitch, I don't plan on staying here long."

Enid stops walking, causing Wednesday to stop and turn to her. "Why not?"

"This was my parents idea." Wednesday looks towards a trophy case as she stares at a picture with her mother on the fencing team.

"Oh look, there's my mother smirking at me. They've been looking for any excuse to send me here. Its all apart of their nefarious yet completely obvious plan."

"What plan?" Enid says with a smirk, trying to pry out any information she can out of her new roommate.

Wednesday's eyes break from the trophy case to meet Enid's. "To turn me into a version of themselves."

"How would that turn you into a version of them? everyone's high school experience is different." You instantly regret saying, meeting your eyes to Wednesday's intimidating stare.

Enid elbows you, coughing to interrupt the awkward lul in the conversation. Your face flushed with embarrassment.

"Perhaps you could clear something up." Enid says while she continues the tour. You're just happy the attention is off you again.

"Rumor's been swirling around that you killed a student at your old school, and your parents pulled strings to get you off." Enid looks at you for a moment before meeting Wednesdays gaze again.

Wednesday starts to walk past you both. "Actually it was two kids but who's counting?" You and Enid stop simultaneously, looking at each with wide eyes till you both catch up to Wednesday.

You all walk through some double doors to an open area. "Welcome to the Quad." Enid states putting her arms out to the side.

"It's a pentagon." Wednesday states flatly. You and Enid share a glance for a moment.

You and Xavier meet eye contact as he beckons you with his hand. You and Xavier have been friends for awhile, first bonding over silly conversation and his art after being assigned together for a group project.

"I'll be right back guys." You say before walking around on the cobblestone path, eventually meeting up to Xavier who is painting something on the wall.

"You looked like you were suffering, so I thought I'd drag you away for a second." Xavier smirks before continuing his painting.

"Wow you're such a life safer, my knight in shining armor." You say teasingly, putting the back of your hand on your forehead acting faint.

He makes eye contact with you with a slight smile at your performance before looking back to Wednesday.

"She's gorgeous." He says before meeting your eyes again.

"I know right!" You were about the push him, but you didn't want to mess up his painting.

Something you and Xavier bonded over was both of you finding woman attractive. Like you'd both agree, or argue, about celebrities and how pretty some of them are.

You see Ajax talking to Enid. "I should probably get back before Wednesday hates me and, I don't know, kills me in my sleep or something."

"Good luck." Xavier says, still distracted by his painting.

"Thanks, I hope I don't need it." You say before making your way back to Enid and Wednesday.

"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation." Is the last thing you hear Wednesday say, making eye contact with you as you finally caught back up. She turns around and walks away.

"Was I gone for too long?" Enid makes eye contact with you before shaking her head and walking away.

The sun has set past the horizon, It's just you and Wednesday in the dorm. Wednesday just finished unpacking.

Enid is in Yoko's dorm, doing whatever they do.

Wednesday looks up from the center of the room, staring at the tinted sunroof.

You see Wednesday with her head angled upwards, contemplating her options to remove the tint.

"Do you want help?" You ask standing from your desk.

Wednesday lowers her eyes from the sun roof to you. "No, I can do just fine on my own."

You watch Wednesday skeem a few seconds longer until you pull out your wand.

You point your wand towards the sky roof, The sound of film being taking off glass filling the dorm as one of the tints slips of and falls gently towards your wand.

"You're a witch." Wednesday says bluntly.

You keep taking the tint off the different sections of the sun roof.

"Yeah, luckily. I've always really enjoyed magic so if you need something that can be solved with a spell just let me know." You give Wednesday a patient smile as she has a look on her face like she's considering what you said.

Enid opens the door, seeing the scene and proceeding to stomp into the room.

"What did you do to my room!"

You both turn your attention to Enid, annoyance in her eyes.

"Enid, she has an aller-"

You are cut off by Wednesday. "Making myself comfortable."

You see where this is going. deciding to not be in the crossfire, you decide to be in the safety of your section of the room.

You open your book back to where you left off studying with the sound of Wednesday and Enid bickering as your white noise.

Soon Enid starts blasting music.

"Turn it off." You hear Wednesday approaching the center of the room, and you can no longer focus on reading so you watch instead.

Enid shakes her head while dancing.

"This is your final warning." You grab your wand out of fear for your roommate, you keep it concealed unless needed.

"Rah!" Enid holds her hands up to Wednesday's face, claws extended from her fingernails.

"Don't mess with me! This kitty has claws and I'm not afraid to use them."

The door to the dorm suddenly opens, your carnivorous plants teacher and dorm mom, Marilyn Thornhill, on the other side carrying a black flower.

"Sorry for the interruption." Marilyn notices the tint all over the floor and the energy between Enid and Wednesday.

"Is this a bad time?" You go back to reading, every student has gone through this. You didn't need to live it again.

You're walking back from the bathroom to head back to class when you notice Wednesday walking by, there is a nick on her forehead.

"Hey Wednesday, heading to the nurses office?"

"Are you a mind reader as well?" Wednesday asks with what you assume is her version of sarcasm.

"Want me to heal it for you? your forehead I mean."

Wednesday stands there quietly, deciding her options.

"I'm not gonna make you owe me or anything I just, I don't know, I like helping." You look into Wednesday's eyes, she looks to the side before making her final decision.

"Okay, only if you don't demand anything in return." You smile towards Wednesday while pulling out your wand.

"Of course not."

You point your wand towards the cut on Wednesday's forehead.

"Episkey."

The wound on Wednesday's forehead closes itself, the blood leaving with it.

Wednesday is quiet for a moment.

"Thank you." Wednesday says in a slightly different tone than usual.

You hide the slight shock on your face. You never expected to hear her say words of gratitude, especially to you, her roommate.

"It's not a problem, honest. Do you want me to show you to where the nurses office is just in case I'm not there next time?" You smirk as Wednesday nods.

Wednesday tries to feel where the cut was on her forehead before you both hear a scrapping sound from above.

A gargoyle is falling off the roof above. It's spinning forwards, flipping over.

You take a step back, pointing your wand up.

"Reducto!"

There's a flash of light from your wand, the projectile hitting the falling gargoyle. The statue turning to dust before falling onto Wednesday.

When you look back down to see Wednesday you see Xavier behind her.

"Wednesday get down!" He shouts, tackling her to the ground. You take a big step back to avoid the tackle.

The remains of the gargoyle land softly on top of Wednesday and Xavier.

You look to make sure they're both okay.

Wednesday is unconscious.

Xavier looks up to you. "Cast a spell or something to heal her!"

"What? I just started learning healing charms there is no way I'm experienced enough to mess with head injuries."

You go to pick up Wednesday. "I'll take her to the nurses office."

You're about to start walking until Xavier takes her out of your hands.

"I'm the one that tackled her, I'll take her."

You're left standing there, grasping your wand in both of your hands, as Xavier leaves before you can fight back.

Part 2.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: I'm so happy part 1 is over. this was kinda annoying at times to write I'm just excited to get to the cooler parts B)

#wednesday x y/n #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you

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keilanana · 7 months ago

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𝑻𝒐 𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒚 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒆

ɪ. ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ

Now that you've sort of finally accepted your new circumstances, you take the opportunity of being a baby to stare because you know no one's gonna call you a creep for it (this time).

Penelope is 'Mother', you eventually decide.

You take a lot after her, you realize whenever she decides to hold you up to a mirror one day to show you the newest onesie (cow-themed, this time) she's bought for you. You share her skin tone and eye color, and you're fairly sure you see tufts of [H/c] hair growing in.

Those similarities, however, are the only ones you share with her, for she still looks different from you in plenty of other ways.

Penelope Ophelia is tall—almost reaching up to six feet, you're pretty sure—and thin, her body shape a perfect hour glass. Her hair is straight, but cascades into curls where it ends just beneath her butt, and her eyes are fox-like and almost luminescent when the moon or sun hits them just right. Honestly, had it not been for the fact that she was your Mother, you would have been terrified of her as a stranger.

But it is because of the fact that she is your Mother, though, that you know her appearance is exactly just that: an appearance, and nothing more. Despite the sharpness of her eyes and how cool her skin feels against your own, there is a softness to Penelope that pulls you in and makes you unafraid to curl your small hands into the fabric of her clothes and nuzzle your face into the spot that sits between her neck and her shoulder. She coos everytime you do and always makes sure to nuzzle you back, and it fills your insides with warmth.

She likes to bake in her free time, and is pretty damn good at it if the mouth watering smell of bread or whatever other pastry Penelope decides to bless the Ophelia household with is anything to go by. You unfortunately can't really eat a lot of her pastries due to being a baby that's yet to grow their teeth in, but you've learned long ago that patience is, in fact, a virtue, and you will happily reap your reward once the time finally comes.

(For now, though, you can only suffer in silence as you watch Willow scarf down the best looking cheesecake you've ever seen while Penelope airplanes baby food into your mouth.)

The woman you get your horns and slowly growing goat ears and tail from is Willow Ophelia, now also dubbed 'Mum'.

She's about a head shorter than Mother, but for what she lacks in height, she makes up for in muscle. Due to her apparent appreciation for crop tops, you've already seen just how toned her stomach is, and her arms—while not too big—clearly have a lot of power, though you're sure that's what tending to a farm filled with crops and animals does to you.

Mum's skin is dark and littered with lighter patches (vitiligo, you think?), and her eyes are round and colored forest green. What mainly draws you into her, however, has to be the fluffy cloud of platinum blonde hair that sits atop her head, with goat ears colored the same coming out from the sides and thick, birch-like horns protruding from the top and curling backwards in a way that kind of reminded you of that one old goat from Hoodwinked.

When you see Mother and Mum together, it is then that you finally start to believe the old saying, "Opposites attract."

While Penelope looks and feels cold on the outside despite the pure warmth she freely gives to those she loves and cares for, Willow's appearance is all it takes to hide the fact that—even with the chill, almost goofy demeanor she likes to wear around other people—she is a force to be reckoned with the moment you earn her ire.

Firm, stubborn, and determined, Willow loves fiercely and therefore protects her family with the rage of a soldier. You know that she genuinely does actually like working on the farm, but you also know it serves as something to keep her in shape and ready for a fight, too.

Like with Penelope, however, you can't find yourself feeling any sort of fear for her, and perhaps that is because, as her child—the culmination of hers and Penelope's love—you have only ever known Willow's strength in the form of her strong arms holding you like they're meant to shield you from the dangers of the world and willing to do anything to keep you from harm, no matter the cost. Willow's rage is only for those who deserve it, and already, somehow, you know that—in her eyes, at least—you never will.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

In the night, Mother reads fairy tales to you from an old book she tells you was gifted to her from her grandfather before his passing.

With a rocking chair next to your crib and you safely secured in her lap, positioned so that you could lay against her stomach, Penelope makes sure to hold the book on her lap in a way that allows you to see the pictures that color the pages not littered with words. Her voice is regal, but also possesses an almost rumbly quality to it that makes her chest vibrate enough to where you can feel it, and that alone is nearly enough to send your eye lids fluttering shut.

Mother likes happy endings. She tells you herself after she finishes reading Cinderella to you, one night (a night that you're very proud of because you didn't immediately fall asleep like you usually do when she reads to you), and tucks you into bed.

"The world is nothing like the ones I read to you, little love," she says, the soft smile that had been gracing her delicate features at the time growing at the sight of your small yawn. "I still like to believe that there is a happy ending for everyone, though, and I hope that someday, you will find yours."

She had ended the brief moment off with a kiss to your forehead, and then left you to dream of the daring princes, kind princesses, and fearsome beasts from the stories she had weaved into your mind with her romantic tales.

Mum's stories come in the day. They aren't as frequent as Mother's, but that only makes them all the more special.

When it's time for those moments, no matter how long or short they may turn out to be, Mum likes to take you away from the house and sit near the lake, where you can watch all the little frogs and dragon flies go about their business amongst the lily pads beneath the blue, cloudy sky.

It is in those moments, then, where it is only the two of you, Mum speaks of no fairy tales or happy endings. Instead, she tells you of divine beings greater than you could ever know; beings who envy the very mortals they look down upon because they can feel things they will never be able to fully replicate, and monsters born from people forced into a world and punished for mistakes not even their own. She whispers about the wilds; about how different this world used to be before humanity's advancements. She doesn't blame all of them for their ambition, for wanting to create an easier world for the generations to come, but you don't miss the sad, almost mournful look that flickers through her shiny eyes, looking as if she'd been pulled back into memories from long before.

And when that happens, all you can do is lean back into her and hope that your presence is enough to bring her home.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

This was it. You were finally gonna do it.

You were going to walk today, and no one could stop you.

(A fact that you were very right about, as the only two people who could stop you wouldn't even want to, as any parent's child's first steps is a sacred memory.)

Furrowing your brows in concentration, you shakily lift a hand and place it against the counter next to you for support as you slowly push yourself up onto your feet, a determined frown painting your lips.

Okay. You inhale deeply and try to straighten your back out. Okay, I'm standing up. It's going well so far. Now ...

Narrowing your [E/c] eyes, you begin to look around the room, pondering: Where should I walk to?

As if on cue, Mother steps into the room, and she gasps—loudly.

"Willow!" She turns to yell up the stairs. "Willow get the camera and come quick!"

You hear something clatter from above, but you pay it no mind and instead focus on the the long, white sundress your Mother had decided to wear today.

Bingo.

Taking another deep breath to hype yourself up, you slowly, but surely, take a small step. The action, of course, has your Mother returning her gaze to you faster than anyone can blink, and she gasps again.

"WILLOW! HURRY, LOVE!!"

"I'M HURRYING, I'M HURRYING!!"

Stumbling down the stairs, Mum slides over to Mother's side and nearly drops the camera she's holding in the process—both from the fact that her entrance had almost led to her landing flat on her face, and the shock of seeing you trying to walk.

Choosing to focus on your goal instead of the two women standing in front of you, their eyes filling with tears, you keep your eyes glued to your feet as you carefully take another step, and another one, and another one ...

"Look at you go, kid!" Willow whoops from behind the camera as she takes pictures.

Standing next to her wife, Penelope beams at you and claps her hand, practically glowing the pride. "That's it, little love! Keep going!" she cheers.

Soon enough, the counter is no longer there to support you, and you look up just in time to give your moms a gummy smile as your little legs take you stumbling forward into Mother's legs. The women cheer, and Willow takes one last picture of you hugging Penelope's legs like a koala before setting the camera aside and picking you up, grinning widely.

"That was amazing, kiddo!" She holds you between Mother and herself so they can both smother you with kisses. "Does this mean you're gonna be talking soon, too?"

You giggle, the sound high pitched and bright, and it makes your moms snuggle you even more.

The Ophelia household is warm for the rest of the day, and you can't help but hope it'll stay that way for the rest of your second life.

<- Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ->

Tag List: @randomgurl2326

#to defy fate #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #annabeth chase x reader #luke castellan x reader #thalia grace x reader #nico di angelo x reader #will solace x reader #calypso x reader #jason grace x reader #piper mclean x reader #leo valdez x reader #hazel levesque x reader #frank zhang x reader #reyna ramirez arellano x reader

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wifeofwandamaximoff · 10 months ago

Text

Te Amo

(Larissa Weems x Addams!Reader)

A/N: This is my first series! Also sorry for taking so long to update, im just feeling lazy...

Warnings: None I dont think.

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"My little storm cloud I proud of you", father says to me. I just stared at him. I then looked at mother who had a sweet smile and was looking at me with adoring eyes.

"I only accepted to go to Nevermore because Wednesday is going as well." I said flatly to mother and father.

"Speaking of which, would you like to be in the same dorm as Wednesday?" Mother said while looking at me with loving eyes.

I just stare at her with a cold glare before looking out the window to see Nevermore approaching. The car then stopped and mother and father got out while Lurch started to take out my luggage. I just sat in the car waiting until Lurch got all my stuff out and then got out of the car. Keeping a big distance away from my parents.

My parents started to walk into the school, hand in hand with each other which made me want to stab my eyes with my own nails. From that disgusting sight of affection

I proceeded to follow them quietly, my footsteps soft and quiet. After a bit of walking my parents and I all stopped at a large door which I assumed was an office of my new principal. Since the doors were so huge and it was in its own separate hall.

Mother knocked on the door and from the other side there was a soft angelic voice saying "Come in!"

My parents then open the doors and stride in together. As I follow them with a cold and bored gaze, my eyes land on a gorgeous woman. I looked at the gold name plaque that said, "Principal Weems."

"Its been so long Larissa" , mother said with a smile while both of them sit in a chair while I stand in the middle between them.

"It has Morticia." Larissa said with a big smile, too big to be real and sincere.

"Now, we have put Belladonna in the same dorm as Wednesday as requested, she will also have most of her classes with her sister as well." Larissa said while looking at a file. I looked between mother and father and saw them happily smiling which made me want to stick their mouths closed for eternity.

"You hear that my storm cloud?! You and your sister will be together like you used to be." Father said happily. I give him a glare which makes him smile.

"But, we do not want any calls from Larissa saying you have destroyed this school Belladonna Addams." Mother said sternly which makes me give her a small smirk.

Larissa raises an eyebrow at me when mother mentioned destroying a school. I just stare at her with an empty gaze before there was a knock on the office doors.

"Come in!" Weems said before the doors opened and I saw my sister along with a girl with blonde hair and a bit of pink and blue. My sister quickly walked up to me and stood very closely to me. She then hooked her pinkie with mine and I made no move to remove it. Instead I held tighter making Wednesday smile a bit before quickly returning to her signature blank expression.

The blonde girl came up to me, about to give me a hug but I stepped away. My pinkie leaving Wednesday's making her frown a bit.

"Not a hugger, got it." The blonde girl said sheepishly.

"Pardon Belladonna Enid, she is allergic to color as well." Mother said while smiling at the blonde girl.

The blonde girl nodded who's name I think was Enid.

"Belladonna, your sister and Enid will show you to your dorm that all three of you will be sharing and later on I will give you a tour of Nevermore." Weems said with a smile that showed off her pearly white teeth.

I just stare at her blankly before Enid dragged me away with Wednesday following close behind. Leaving my parents and Principal Weems to deal with them.

Enid was talking about the history of Ophelia dorm and saying how Wednesday split half of the room making me smirk a bit.

While Enid was too busy talking Wednesday said Thing was awaiting for my arrival eagerly. Making me nod even though in the inside I was quite happy since I haven't seen him in years.

We then arrived at a door and Enid opened it up excitedly, making jazz hands when I stepped inside. I looked to see a circular window that had colors on one half and just black on one side.

"Where will I be sleeping?" I said flatly while walking to Wednesday's side.

"Ms. Weems has ordered a bunk bed and should arrive when she gives you your tour! So you and Wednesday can have your own side." Enid said with a smile. I just nod before spotting my luggage near Wednesday's bed.

I then walk towards my luggage and start unpacking my things. Just then I heard quiet and soft pitter patters. I snap my head towards the directions of the sounds before Wednesday said something.

"That Thing remember Bella?" Wednesday said bluntly. Herself picking up the bluntness from myself. My bluntness is what I pride myself in.

"I do, such a loud hand and a mystery." I said bluntly before I feel a hand crawl up my shoulder.

"Thing off, you know how I dont like people and things touching my cold shoulders." I said flatly before patting Wednesday's bed to let him know to crawl up on her bed.

"Oh Thing we have your manicures soon!" Enid said while looking at her phone which had a clock. My my, technology has truly grown. Distracting kids from their social lives and brain sucking them in for money.

Thing just bobbed up and down saying yes. Thing then turned to me and held his nails out. Showing him his freshly black painted nails that were about to be repainted because Thing chipped the pain off when Wednesday sent him to find her some crime cases to solve.

"Mine are always better Thing." I smirk slightly before showing Thing my stiletto nails that were painted void black. I then hear a knock on the door making everyone turn to the door. Even Enid who surprisingly heard it since she has been too invested in her brain sucking device.

"Who is it?" Enid shouted from her bed while now going back to her phone.

"Its Weems." I said before standing up and opening the door to see Principal Weems standing there with a big smile.

"You ready for your tour Miss Addams?" Weems asked with her voice that was so soft that it could be coated in honey. I nod before looking at my sister and Enid before leaving the dorm.

"Are you settling in well Miss Addams?" Weems asked me while starting to walk down the hall.

"Horrific." I said bluntly but she smiled. I cursed Wednesday in my head for being so similar to me.

"Im glad, now after this tour I must go back to work but I want you to come to my office at 8pm so you can collect your uniform and schedule for Monday." Weems said while taking long stride that I had to walk a bit faster to keep up.

I just silently agree before she leads me to a big open area.

"This is the quad, where all the students tend to hangout." Weems said with a big proud smile.

I look around before turning to her.

"This quad you are talking about has more then four sides." I said flatly. She just smiled sweetly at me before showing me my other classes.

"Oh my, I almost forgot. Would you like to join your sister in fencing and archery?" Weems said before almost ending the tour.

"I would like to join her in fencing, but not archery. I already excel at that." I said coldly. Weems looks at me with a bit of curiosity in her eyes.

"Well when you come into my office at 8pm I can show you other options." Weems said smiling softly. I just nod before going back to my dorm not looking back once. Knowing the tour was over.

A couple hours later its now 7:50 pm and I start making my way over to Weems's office. Myself still dressed in my gothic attire which consisted of a long sleeve dress which was short and stopped mid thigh. My hands adoring some lace ruffled gloves and my heels clicking as I walked.

I then shortly arrived at two big doors which led inside to her office. I turn to look at a nearby clock and see its 7:59. I then knock on the door. I here a soft "Come in", from inside so I opened the door to see Weems at her desk and typing rapidly on her computer. She then looks up to see who entered her office and saw me which she looked at the time on her computer to see it was exactly 8pm.

"Miss Addams, im glad you arrived exactly on time." Weems states with a smile before opening a drawer to pull out my black uniform that was identical to Wednesday's.

"Now I know you wanted to be in fencing class so I arranged but you need one more encore." Weems said before pulling out a paper which I assumed was the encores I could choose from.

"There are only two you can choose since you joined in the middle of the semester and there are barely any classes left available." Weems smile before showing me the two I could choose from.

Art or music.

"I want art." I said as soon as I saw it. I saw a flash of surprise on Weems's face for my quick reply.

"Are you sure? I teach that class and no one takes it because no one wants the principal to teach them." Weems said a bit sadly. Even frowning a bit.

"I am positive and I do not mind at all." I stated cold to get my point across that I didn't care if she taught that class or not. I wanted to take it and having her teach me was a big bonus.

Weems smiled brightly at me which I didn't't return but so badly wanted to for the first time. But my face refused to do so since im so use to not smiling its foreign to me.

"Great! Our first studio time will be on Tuesday at 5pm. Does that sound good Miss Addams?" Weems asked me while writing down a reminder for herself.

I stare at her gorgeous face, getting distracted. Her ocean blue eyes that could drown me, her red lips that I would allow marks all over my skin. Her wrinkle and smile lines that were so pretty on her face and just enhanced her beauty. Her neatly done hair that I could only dream of seeing down and raking my fingers through it.

"Miss Addams, are you alright?" Weems said a bit concerned. I snapped out of my daze to realize that she was now standing infront of me with a concerned and worried face.

"I have been calling you for five minutes Miss Addams, are you alright?" Weems said concerned. I looked up her, her height making me weak in the knees.

I then snapped out of my daze and looked back down. I looked up at her again to see those worried eyes that I so badly want to look in them forever.

"I am alright Principal Weems." I said cold. Returning back into my cold and static blunt self. Weems didn't seem convinced but didn't push any further.

"If you say so, but if you need anything dont be ashamed to ask for help. I know how you Addams are." Larissa laughed softly at the end. I just stare at her.

"As we have nothing else to talk about I shall take my leave." I said standing up from the chair and going to leave before I heard a soft "goodnight", from her. Which made me give the smallest smile before leaving.

The next day I wake up from my horrid nightmares and to the blazing white moon that kissed my pale skin. I look around to see Enid laying on her bed still asleep in an awkward position. I see Wednesday asleep right next to me since the bunk bed didn't arrive in time so we had to share.

I quietly got out of bed and stayed in my black nightgown. I checked the time and it was only 5:34 am so I decided to wander around the halls of Nevermore.

It was still dark, the halls eerie. The moon still in the dark night sky. My light foot steps quietly pattering against the cold stone floor.

I then look to see the lights of Weems's office is still on. Strange, its 2:38 am and she is still awake doing her work.

Should I go in there and tell her to sleep? I asked myself. I quickly shake that thought. Im an Addams, I'm not supposed to care. That word care alone wants me to rip my insides out again and again.

I decided I wouldn't go into her office and I would just go back to my dorm, and thats exactly what I did.

I entered back into the door to see the two still asleep. Enid snoring like a chainsaw while Wednesday made no sounds.

"Thing." I said quietly. Thing then peeks out from under Wednesday's bed.

"Go make sure Weems sleeps." I said bluntly. Thing then taps his fingers. Seemingly wanting to get something out of this.

"New hand cream now go." I said before laying back on Wednesday's bed. My eyes closing and my ears tuning in the sounds of Thing's patters while he makes his way to Weems's office.

God why do you care about some dumb Principal that is amazing beautiful!? Being in love is a curse! This is just some silly attraction that will go away soon Belladonna. I argued in my head. I huff before shutting my eyes and letting the peaceful darkness overtake me.

#principal weems #wednesday x reader #larissa weems x y/n #principal larissa weems #larissa weems #larissa x reader #hot principal #larissa weems x reader #enid sinclair #morticia addams #gomez addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams x reader #larissa weems angst #larissa x you #larissa x y/n #wednesday addams

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mylifestylearedilfs · 1 year ago

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⇢ ˗ˏˋ cillian murphy x f!reader ࿐ྂ

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ A GIRL LIKE YOU : fluff ; age gap ; imagine

, , ,

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ CILLIAN MURPHY was loved by the whole world. everyone wanted to have a chance to just talk to him or more. on social media people made fan accounts about him, doing edits, gifs etc. but cillian used his phone only for calls, texts etc. so he was clueless about things that his fans were making about his characters or just him. murphy loved acting it makes him feel alive, but he didn’t like being super popular, it definitely confused him even if he is in this career almost all life.

because of this he wasn’t a fan of dating, of course he was once in marriage, and he has two sons, but it wasn’t it. he loved his ex-wife, but they weren’t meant for each other, and it was fine. he wasn’t in an unhappy or unhealthy relationship with his wife, their divorce wasn’t because of the fault of anybody. they just weren’t a match, but they are still good friends, maybe because of their children but also because cillian knew that he always could come to her when he needs help, and she could do the same.

but dating in his age wasn’t a good idea. he was forty-seven with two almost adult sons, and he was divorced. nobody wants a man like him to serious relationship, maybe some casual sexual acquaintances but nothing else. also all women he used to ‘date’ were aware about his career and almost always wanted to get him because of his fame. it was exhausting, and sometimes he wanted to be a normal guy without all of this popularity.

people saying that love is everywhere, but could it be in the small cafeteria? as you can see, cillian wasn’t a fan of showing himself in a place where you can meet a lot of people, so when it comes to drink a good coffee and eat a dessert he wouldn’t choose a starbucks but a small café on the outskirts. it was a quaint place, established by a young woman in her late twenties. cafeteria doesn’t even have the google site, maybe that was a reason why the only customer there was an old lady who comes there everyday just to have someone to talk to.

so when cillian enter the café the owner was in shock but smiled at him wondering if he would stay in there more than a few minutes. well, she was aware that her shop wasn’t popular at all, but she didn’t care. this place has been always her dream and she made it come true. she was happy that this old lady named ophelia was her regular customer because she had someone to talk during the shift.

“hello, are you ready to order?” the woman asked with a smile on her face. at this moment, in the background, ‘have you ever loved someone’ by the vocaleers starts playing.

“one americano please” cillian smiled at her as she nodded.

“do you want brownie with this coffee? i just made some, it still hot”

“sure, why not” he said, and she just smiled happily at him, thanking him for an order. cillian sat at the corner and looked at her. she was doing his coffee quietly singing words of song and do a little dance to this. he couldn’t understand how she could be so positive when her business weren’t the most successful, but there she was enjoying her job.

, , ,

cillian started to come to this café every day, maybe for this delicious desserts or maybe for this kind owner. let’s be honest, he came for both. murphy cannot understand how he found a person who was just like him. she didn’t use social media and wasn’t a big fan of movies where she could see cillian, so she didn’t know that he was a famous actor. she treated him just like an average person, and he was grateful for that.

it felt good when you weren’t treating like an animal in zoo but like a human. she makes him feel better about himself. and her new hobby was showing cillian the world that she knows and loves. maybe she wasn’t the person with an eventful life, she wasn’t a celebrity who was doing interviews every day. but that makes her special in his eyes.

with her positivity she made his days better, he missed days of doing nothing but talking about world, dreams or other stuff that his exes didn’t like talking about. she was a perfect woman in his eyes.

maybe he wasn’t that old to dating again?

, , ,

⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! and im sorry for any mistakes.

#cillian murphy #oppenheimer #barbenheimer #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy imagine #fluff #cillian murphy x reader #x female reader #cillian murphy x y/n #oppenbarbie #oppenheimer 2023 #oppenheimer movie

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mangohgeckoh · 26 days ago

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Chemical Reaction (Chap 4)

"Day of Ash, Day of Water"

The bar fell silent when Ophelia trudged into the crowded establishment. Arms behind her back, she had used her shoulder to push the door open. Her clothes were stained with a mix of sand and blood, her eyes were irritated from her tears. Vander rushed to her, taking her shaking form in. “Oh, Oph,” he rushed behind her to see her hands restrained from enforcer handcuffs. Silco, who had been sitting at the bar, also sprinted towards her. His eyes were wide by the sight of distress she was in. A crowd slowly began to form consisting of the Last Drop’s regulars who had been worried about a fellow trencher.

Ophelia tried to form words but she could only let out dry sobs as she stared at the floor, guilty. “A-Allie,” She tried to speak. Vander froze. “The child?” He said from behind her, working the handcuffs off her sore wrists. Ophelia nodded frantically. “What has happened?” Silco spoke, concern stricken across his face. Now that her hands were free, she brought them to her face. “Dead.” … Silco took the cuffs from Vander who had been too surprised to say anything. The customers of the crowd exchanged worried looks. The children of Ophelia’s camp were well known around the Drop. It was one of the only safe places they could play. Silco’s blue-green eyes gave Vander a weak look. “Enforcers. This is Piltover handcuffs.” He said after examining the cuffs. Vander’s brows furrowed, anger taking over them. “She was a child.” Ophelia cried, throat burning with each word. “She only wanted to protect me.”

Silco watched Vander’s hands ball up into shaking fists.

“This ends today.”

A meeting was called to order. All of Vander’s patrons, who knew each other very well like a secondhand family, gathered in The Last Drop. Except no drinks were exchanged. Ophelia sat at one of the tables that lined the sides of the bar, Silco wrapping bandages around her wounds. “My fellow Zaunites,” Vander’s voice bellowed from the middle of the dimly lit room. Everyone Ophelia knew everyone that was present. Felicia, Anton, Benzo, Connol, everyone this side of the Undercity turned up and more. The bar had hit max capacity shortly after Vander’s speech started. “Today another one of our own has fallen,” Pain was present on his face but he pressed on. “Except this time it was a child that suffered from Topside’s cruelty.” He glanced over at Ophelia. Her yellow eyes were trained on the floor while Silco patched her up, he was listening intently. She was now a broken young woman, grief stricken. “How many more of our own will suffer? How many more of our children will face the same fate before we show Topside we are people too?” Aggravated whispers fell over the crowd. Vander was getting to them. “How many more murders from these enforcers will need to happen before we show Topside just how powerful we can be?” His voice had risen, rage overcoming him. Suddenly, he turned and stomped towards the bar. His large arm reached over the counter before he pulled two large crude-looking gauntlets out.

“It’s time we show these Pilties how loud we can be!” He roared after putting them on. The room fell quiet. For a moment the bar was filled with heated exchanges before a voice rose over everyone else's. “It is time,” Silco stood, unsheathing a blade from his miner’s coat. “It is time we show these bloated Topsiders who we are. What the children of Zaun can do.” With that, the crowd erupted into rage-driven cheers.

Zaun was ready.

Zaun was ready for war.

It started at the bridge connecting the Twin Cities, Piltover and Zaun. Two large groups gathered on each end. Armed enforcers formed a line, blocking the entrance to Piltover’s gate, the entrance to equality. Vander stood at the head of the mob, his people behind him, his arms disappearing under the sleeves of his gauntlets. He eyed the enforcers blocking their path. The foremost officer opposing Vander had a cocky attitude. “Tell your people to disarm and shove off. This doesn’t need to get ugly.” He threatened. Vander stared daggers into the man’s eyes. “The way I see it,” Vander looked over his shoulder, his greasy hair flowing in the dry wind, “Things are already ugly. You’re outnumbered, so you’ll be the ones shoving off.” He inhaled before spitting on the officer’s shoes.

The leading officer blew a whistle. Everything happened fast. Enforcers pushed their way into the crowd, mowing down anyone in their way with imposing metal shields. Ophelia watched as her own people were trampled into the concrete of the bridge. “Load up!” Anton crashed a box onto the ground behind her, she turned and saw a glimpse of molotov cocktails before they disappeared into the hands of enraged rioters. Surrounded by the crowd, her senses were buzzing, her adrenaline pumping.

Ophelia quickly scaled one of the bridge’s support cables. From her new perch she could see the riot unfold, molotov explosions boomed like fireworks across the bridge. Without thinking, she unsheathed three feathers from the plumage on her back. Her grip was so tight and the blades so sharp that they cut into her palm, but she was too focused on the battle below to care.

Nervous she'd hit one of the rioters, she flung the feathers towards the enforcers’ rear guard. Each one pierced the target’s armor, one slicing clean through the officer’s mask. She continued ripping and throwing her feathered blades until she began to bleed from her plucked plumage. Time slowed for her as she watched fire erupt across the bridge, the sound of shouting, fighting the sound of battle. Vander brutalizing an enforcer with his gauntlets, Silco throwing a molotov, Anton giving out Molotovs, Benzo and Dart helping an injured rioter away from the violence, Connol in a fist fight with an officer but his wife was nowhere to be seen.

She was brought back to the moment when she heard a familiar scream. Her head whipped around to see Felicia on the opposite side of the bridge, an enforcer slowly approaching her with a baton. She didn’t think when her legs started to move, focusing only on reaching her friend. Connol was quick to tackle Felicia’s attacker to the ground. Ophelia had almost reached Felicia when a bottle of liquid was tossed from her peripheral view. She froze as her friends were enveloped by flames. Ophelia’s ears were ringing as was thrown back by the blast.

The revolution had failed, it’s members consumed by rage as the riot grew increasingly violent and costly. Zaun would not gain it’s freedom today, Piltover again had shown their dominance over the Undercity. Smoke filled air and burned the lungs of those in the crowd not wearing a mask. Black clouds grew from the parts of the bridge in flames. The riot was starting to simmer down, enforcers now having the control on the crowd, but smoke still clogged the air around the bridge. Coughing, Ophelia moved as quickly as she could towards the exit she came from, trying to dodge corpses that scattered the ground.

Her eyes stung as tears fought their way out. ‘Dart’. Her best friend, the young woman helping run her orphanage, laid lifeless against the bloodstained concrete. Ophelia’s body trembled, her knees crashing on the ground next to Dart’s corpse. “No…” She sobbed, trying to shake her friend awake but to no avail. After a minute of crying over her friend’s body, the enforcer’s screams got louder and closer. Ophelia had to leave if she didn’t want to get arrested. With a heavy heart, she gently closed Dart’s eyes before standing.

Before fleeing, Ophelia stole a glimpse of the City of Progress. It had been unscathed from the riot thanks to the enforcers, the city’s towers glowed golden in the sunlight. Ophelia’s ears ticked at the sound of heavy boots beginning to push further onto the bridge forcing her to flee.

She pushed through the door of The Last Drop. It seemed to had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. The survivors that made their way back were being tended by those who stayed behind. Ophelia felt blood trickling down her face but she had other priorities, walking past volunteer medics. She saw two young girls sobbing in the corner of the room, Benzo was trying to calm them down. "Benzo…" Ophelia started, realizing who the two children were. Powder and Violet's bodies shook violently against Benzo's embrace. "Shhh," He hushed them. He looked up knowingly at Ophelia. "I know." He whispered. He had also seen their parents burn to death. Anger pricked the back of her neck. "Where is Vander?" Before Benzo could ask, the pink haired girl spoke up. "I saw him," Her voice shakey as she wiped her eyes.

"He went to River Pilt."

Embers lazily fell from the bridge, ash blanketed the ground like snow. Ophelia was following the set of footprints, it seemed Vander had been pursuing someone. Her heartrate quickened as she heard a voice. “You!” It was Vander’s. “I saw you throw it!” Her ears trained on the voices. “Don’t do that, I know you did it.” His gruff voice was shouting at someone until a shaking one spoke up. “I-I..I didn’t mean to-” Her ears perked when the other voice was interrupted by the sound of force. She listened in as her pace quickened, hoping to dissolve the situation. ‘Snarling’. ‘Grabbing.’ ‘Choking.’ “They are dead because of you!” Vander’s voice roared.

Ophelia found a clearing and saw her friend in the shallow of the lake under the bridge. “Vander! Stop!” Ophelia ran down the bluff overlooking the lake. He didn’t turn, body slumped to focus on the water beneath him. She halted to a stop when Silco was nowhere to be seen. Her ears honed in on the sound of bubbles erupting from the water where Vander’s arms were submerged.

Her heart sank. ‘Silco.’

In less than a second, Ophelia had run and pounced onto Vander’s back. Her talons sank into his shoulders as she threw weak punches against his head. “Stop! Please!” She begged, her cries echoing off the water. He didn’t relent and, from her position above him, she could see Silco’s silhouette under the water.

‘Drowning.’

Her pleas grew louder, fists beating against him. Suddenly, he screamed in pain when a knife struck him from the water. Ophelia lost her balance and fell off Vander into the water. Her face broke the surface, gasping for air. Despite the toxic filth of the water blurring her vision, she could see red spreading out across the surface. She looked for where the color was the deepest and dived in. Her eyes burned, like she had rubbed them with spice, but she had to persist, she had to find Silco.

There he was. His body was moving lethargically. He was fighting against the water. She’d never seen Silco as frightened as he was in that moment, drowning. She quickly grabbed his shirt and began to pull him to the surface. She struggled, the physical and mental fatigue from the riot, made her feel as if she was lifting a bag of bricks. Knowing he was losing consciousness, she mustered up every bit of her energy to yank him to the surface of the water, it was by sheer will that she managed to do it.

Clouds twisted above them, the sky just as garnet red as the blood flowing from Silco’s face. The feathers on her ear’s ruffled. “How could you!?” She screamed, as Vander faded into the smoke, fleeing. Her voice was coarse, her throat burned from the screaming. Silco’s body laid limp in the murky water, blood pooling around him. Her muscles burned as she dragged Silco ashore. With one final tug she pulled him out of the toxic water, laid on the bank of the river.

Ophelia toppled over in exhaustion, her palms disturbing the ash covered sand beneath them. Trying to remain calm, she scrambled back to her injured friend. Deep gashes had torn through the right side of his face, piercing his eye and continuing down his cheek. She choked on a sob, ripping a piece of fabric from her clothing, pressing it against his wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Everything happened too fast for her, but at least her friend was breathing. She cradled his head with her other hand, praying to Janna that he was going to make it. His shallow breaths were weak…

…but he was still alive.

#arcane #arcane fandom #silco arcane #silco #fanfic #silco x oc #silco fanfic #silco x reader #arcane vander

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