#forgaeven : tyler

[dreameasel]

𝖃𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖘 and tries not to look too obviously annoyed. Not for Tyler's sake or anything but his 𝖔𝖜𝖓. He wanted to give Tyler as little material or satisfaction or 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 as possible. It was bad enough he had to be here with this fucker after everything.

❝ Pretty sure neither of us wants to be here right now so you just stay out of 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒚 and I'll stay out of 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 alright ? ❞

If he could just keep his head down and Tyler could keep his mouth shut then maybe, just maybe he could make out of this without 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆.

starter for @forgaeven ( tyler 😈 )

[miercolaes]

❝  i  may  be  crazy,  but  you’re  out  of  your  mind.  ❞  she  snaps  in  return,  taking  one  step  closer  to  his  cage.  wednesday  has  all  qualities  a  great  stalker  must  have  —  she’s  observing  him,  calculating  what  move  to  take  next.  on  the  outside  she  appears  stone  cold,  much  like  an  angel  memorial  statue  in  the  cemetery.  but  on  the  inside  she’s  already  digging  into  the  past,  for  there  lies  the  answers  she  seeks.  what  corpses  does  she  exhume?  each  moment  from  the  day  they  met  at  weathervane  up  until  the  night  at  the  sheriff  station.  at  first,  she  passed  that  notion  as  the  mask  that  fell  off  close  to  the  curtain  call.  but  now  that  she  learned  more  about  @forgaeven  kind,  the  tables  turned  and  what  she  thought  was  the  conclusion  turned  out  to  be  just  the  beginning.

she doesn't flinch when the chair is thrown. probably because it happened in a blink of an eye. but as luck has it, she doesn't blink quite often and she catches the object flying through the air. but he didn't mean to hit her. he could've, that much she was aware of. her hypothesis seems close to a drawn conclusion. but to achieve that, she must set forth. one step closer, two steps closer. danger is imminent but who's in danger? was it wednesday or tyler? both or neither? only time could tell. her frame stance remains neutral, no visible sign of defensive nor offensive cues. she just stands there, with a calmness seen on the sea before a big storm. dark gaze locked with his. she's not afraid.

❝ if you think i'll take orders from you, you couldn't be more wrong. ❞ her recklessness may as well be her demise. she's too caught up in her own illusion, that she could achieve anything she sets her mind to, if she tries hard enough. when she looks at him she doesn't see an enemy ( probably because she never did in the first place, until it was too late ), when she looks at him she sees someone who wasted their time on her. and, alas, she's guided by her own principles, like eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth. ❝ but you're free to think of me however you like. since it's clear you made your mind up, i have no reason to interfere in that matter. ❞ she utters, moving her figure in such way that she allows tyler enough space to leave out of that place if he wishes to.

❝ and you're right, ❞ she continues, offering a light nod on top of her utterance. woeful gaze drifts to the metal door she opened before entering the pandora box. and just like pandora's box, darkness and evil lingered in the air. but at the bottom of it all, there was a tiny speck of hope. and to that she holds on. ❝ i can be a terrible person and this may as well be an experiment. ❞ the serpent dripping venom from its unholy tongue. all the voices inside her head echoing in unison, come on tyler, don't play the victim your entire life. head snaps to the side to look back at him, the bottom of the pandora box glistening in her obsidians, ❝ but i own it. i can fool anyone else, but not myself. i'd rather not steep that low. so you can leave this place with me while we catch up on the time we lost or i can mentally torment you for an indefinite amount of time. the choice is yours. ❞

❛⠀ you're crazy, ❜ he scoffs, turning away from her now.

he faces the wall, and he implements it : seven seconds in, and five seconds out, right ? that's how you do it ? that's how you breathe ? he doesn't know. fuck! he thinks in a tone that's way too frantic, his memories flashing in front of him like waves : all those doctors poking at him. those guards. a freak. a murderer. a monstrous killer. dad, coming by every week. the lawyer, a straight-faced man with an always-agitated sort of attitude. can we trust him ? he remembers asking dad, in a voice that's astoundingly meek. absurdly, horrendously young.

then there's the psychiatrist. a bald, bespectacled man that has a witty sense of humour. tyler thinks he likes him. tyler thinks he liked dr. kinbott too, but he killed her. he killed her like that, like she's paper and he's only tearing it in two, because— because it's what laurel wants, and if it's what she wants then he'll— he has to obey. he has to obey because laurel, she— she saved him, didn't he ? she saved him, when no one else was giving a shit. when mom died, and dad couldn't even look at him for weeks. she saved him because— because what.

why did she save him ?

tyler doesn't know. he doesn't know, but suddenly it's like he's in that car again, retrieving the file from her, and her hand goes over his knee and he's asking her what she's doing, and he tries to move, and—i had a chance to read more about your kind, wednesday says, her voice cutting straight into his train of thought. for a moment, it sobers him up. tyler blinks—since when had his vision begun to be this blurry—and turns to her. she's as stoic as ever, as determined and just as dramatic. he nearly wants to laugh at the familiarity of it all. he doesn't. he laughs at the absurdity of it all, instead.

god, he wishes he'd never met her.

❛⠀this is all just—it's an experiment, isn't it ? ❜ but of course, it is. if you put your hand in the cage of a bear can qualify as that. he wants to curl up, pathetic, and think about mom. did she suffer through this, too ? which one scared her more, tyler wonders : that she could turn into a blood-lust beast at any second, or that she must be controlled to even be manageable ? and then, quieter, he wants to ask : did she have a good life, at least ? was it nice and warm and safe when it wasn't so terrifying ? ❛⠀you're the same as laurel. you just wanted me to go BERSERK ! ❜

he throws a chair. it falls to the glass near the wall behind her. the chair, plastic, bends with some parts shatter. the wall dents.

❛⠀LEAVE ! ❜ he roars, feeling the hyde inside wanting to transform, but he can't. he won't allow it. there is no point killing her, he reasons—laurel's dead.

[woednesdayaddams]

  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️���️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️   ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️【 @forgaeven 】

it’s   either   kill   or   be   killed   —   the   master   of   puppets   and   the   marionette   clearly   don’t   know   how   to   get   the   job   done   .   wednesday’s   still   alive   ,   or   at   least   still   breathing   ,   physically   as   worse   as   ever   ,   though   the   mark   they’ve   left   on   her   psyche   remains   significant   and   ,   above   all   ,   permanent   .   they   might’ve   failed   to   get   the   job   done   ,   however   scars   still   remain   ,   to   remind   her   of   a   human’s   misery   of   existence   .   she   could’ve   been   more   assertive   ,   eyes   like   a   hawk   and   knuckles   prepared   to   strike   them   last   .   she   couldn’t   do   it   and   it   terrorized   her   each   moment   she   was   supposed   to   think   of   other   deathly   things   (   and   ,   instead   ,   she   found   herself   bearing   this   dread   into   reality   )   .   maybe   they   were   over   wednesday   addams   ,   but   wednesday   wasn’t   over   them   .   one   last   match   to   establish   who   wins   and   who   loses   had   to   commence   ,   even   if   she   has   to   dig   each   corner   of   the   world   to   find   them   .

if   there’s   one   thing   she   admires   and   despises   simultaneously   ,   it   must   be   authorities'   ways   in   which   they   lock   up   a   convict   —   even   her   infant   brother   ,   pubert   ,   could   find   them   and   he’s   barely   acknowledging   he   exists   .   but   wednesday   doesn’t   mind   it   that   they   have   made   it   easier   for   her   to   pay   tyler   galpin   a   visit   .   whoever   said   romance   was   dead   couldn’t   be   more   wrong   ;   when   one   goes   after   the   other   ,   prepared   to   commit   homicide   ,   like   he   did   first   and   she   does   now   ,   how   can   someone   not   believe   in   the   complete   malarkey   that   is   romance   .   just   the   thought   of   that   word   makes   her   stomach   twist   and   turn   ;   it’s   disgusting   ,   how   can   people   look   for   that   ?

nighttime   had   fallen   as   she   got   there   ,   where   tyler   was   presumably   kept   at   bay   .   so   far   ,   no   institution   (   public   nor   private   )   had   been   able   to   keep   her   contained   ,   but   what   happens   when   she   enters   the   institution   by   her   own   accords   ?   a   sleuth   at   her   core   ,   she   slips   from   bodyguards’   sight   and   marches   her   way   towards   the   place   ,   her   blood   pumping   in   her   veins   ,   adrenaline   taking   over   her   petite   frame   .   the   wait   too   long   ,   but   it   was   worth   it   .   her   fingers   clasped   unto   the   japanese   weapons   from   her   father’s   collection   —   shuriken   ,   or   ,   better   known   as   ninja   stars   —   ,   one   in   each   hand   ,   prepared   to   be   launched   at   her   victim   .

❝   how   could   you   …   ❞      her   tone   enquiring   ,   to   make   her   presence   felt   .   she   couldn’t   bring   herself   to   harm   him   —   not   before   seeing   him   struggle   ,   knowing   that   his   little   game   with   laurel   gates   wasn’t   yet   over   and   the   tables   had   turned   in   wednesday’s   favor   .   head   slanted   as   one   step   is   taken   forward   ,   ❝   …   not   finish   what   you   started   ?   ❞      as   soon   as   her   query   came   to   an   end   ,   there   was   a   slight   change   in   her   demeanor   ,   rims   of   her   pout   twitching   upwards   in   a   manner   other   than   humane   ,   brows   arched   up   as   a   mockery   ,   to   mimic   what   he   told   her   that   one   fateful   night   at   the   police   station   .      ❝   or   do   you   simply   follow   orders   ,   like   an   obedient   ,   empty   headed   animal   who   waits   to   get   its   treat   ?   ❞      dice   casted   ,   her   grimace   returning   to   its   catatonic   state   ,   blank   and   emotionless   —   that’s   the   cue   to   run   ,   for   most   creatures   she   stumbles   across   .

[miercolaes]

    ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️a  light  shrug  is  given  as  an  initial  response,  admittedly  the  slightest  bit  confused  by  his  wording.  while  he  may  not  be  interested  in  hearing  what  darkness  lies  inside  her  psyche,  he  did  respond    —    that  must  be  how  socialization  works  between  two  individuals,  right?

    ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️❝  it  depends  on  your  thoughts  about  existentialism.  ❞    obsidians  now  focusing  on  him,  trying  to  find  other  social  cues  she  might’ve  missed  the  first  time,    ❝  like  jean-paul  sartre  said  :  hell  is  other  people.  my  plan  is  to  prove  his  hypothesis  in  this  lifetime.  making  everyone’s  lives  a  living  hell.  ❞

❛ ❜ he raises his brow, and, despite his best judgement, which he couldn't be sure if it's best at all, cannot quite keep the small upward curl off of his lips.

❛ do i even wanna know what inspires this ? ❜

[khronoes]

it was hard to shake the jolt of fear that had shot up her spine in the cafe that night.    wednesday had heard one too many mindless teenagers cooing about their first kiss and how it had been the most unforgettable moment of their short lives.    it was no surprise when hers had taken a nightmarish turn.   in fact,   that was how she had always imagined her first kiss would go.   a little horrific and a little bone chilling   —   the recipe for a long lasting romance.    what she hadn’t planned for was the punch in the gut that came with having the rug pulled out from under her.    she had always thought she’d fancy someone a little traitorous but every girl has her fantasies and not all of them play out as expected.    her head stiffly turns in his direction and her dark eyes trail up to meet his.    ❝   exuberant.    ❞    save for the brief pinch of her brows,   there is no other sign of emotion on her blank features.

she takes one step towards him with her arms crossed over her chest.    ❝    i am admittedly a little disappointed.   the one chance i get to meet a hyde and it happens to be one who is markedly amateurish.   ❞   wise men had once advised to not poke the bear.   but even wiser men,   gomez men to be more specific,   had said that dancing with a wild bear was a once in a life time opportunity that must be seized.   so wednesday seized it.   she poked and prodded and danced with her words to see what it took to make the bear snap.    the raven haired teen cocked her head and fixed him with a stare.   dark eyes bored into his with a flicker of faux pity.  �� ❝   only a handful of rudimentary murders and not a single notable massacre.   no different from any other thursday.   ❞

❛ aw, don't tell me you're disappointed— ❜

there is a cruel smirk that lines the curves of his mouth. really, is this who he is ? is this what he's come to ? tyler feels like a stranger in his own skin; feels like he's finally on the right track after years of searching. filling in those shoes left by the devil. sure ... he'd had had laurel to thanks for that. after all, where would he be without her guiding hands ( in chains, and in her sweetly-spoken threats, and praises, oh. so much praises. could she really be the one to accept him for who he is, the monster and the ugly and the wretched ? ) — still frightened and unreasonably angry, no doubt — but this ? this is all him. it must be him. this anger has to have an owner, after all; and isn't it his ?

❛ admit it. you're a little thrilled that it was me, weren't you ? ❜

@khronoes / starter call ♡

[dreameasel]

𝖃𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖒 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖐. He cannot 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏 to express how unimpressed he is with Tyler or really anything about the Weathervane or being 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 here. But mainly it's Tyler. He doesn't like or trust anything about him. Especially not this new "𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒈𝒖𝒚" shtick. They've both been seeing Kinbott for about the same amount of time and he's sure as shit not better than he was a year ago. Like fuck is 𝑻𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒓 𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒏 a good person after some weekly sessions crying about how much his dad doesn't love him.

❝ And I'll be out of it as soon as I can. ❞ His voice is completely monotone.

It's cruel. He knows it is. It's cruel and petty and probably kind of beneath him to think about Tyler like this. But frankly he didn't 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑬. If he had the right to be a flat out 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 to someone it was Tyler. And it felt 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 to be a dick to him. Part of Xavier wanted Tyler to try something like last year. To 𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑻𝑬 him on Tyler being the same miserable sack of shit he always was.

❝ I'm sure I can figure it out. ❞ He just wasn't gonna do those orders. 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝. ❝ Either way I'm only here for a few hours. Doesn't really 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓. ❞

he should probably say he's sorry. anything.

showing of remorse, that's- that would be good, right ? that would be the right thing to do. dr kinbott would be happy if he did something like that. and that would be something his mom probably wanted. probably. not that she could ever confirm it for him, on the account that she's dead and she will never come back.

something hot and painful and dangerous curls itself inside his chest. fuck, he hates this. he hates him. and he hates- he hates that- that he's feeling like this at all, that hate is all he could truly chalk all these awful, awful emotion to. why did they have to exist ? and why do they have to exist here ?

maybe if they hadn't, mom would've—

but that's ridiculous, because if mom hadn't been here, maybe dad would've never met her then he would've never existed. but maybe that would all be for the better. not existing. that would be- that would be nice. quiet. to not be so angry, and confused, and full of these hate, and- and- to not be touched—

❛ hey, this is my place of work. ❜ tyler says now, hands up in mock surrender, and backing away quickly. although... chin to the machine, ❛ —you gotta- it can get kinda stuck sometimes. you have to punch the thing a certain way for the milk to steam right. ❜

[miercolaes]

although she'd never disclose this fact, the pathetic little town of jericho started to grow on her. the terrible weather powered the disdain that kept her going everyday. the coffee at the weathervane tolerable, very similar to devil mountain's black label. the constant visual torture from her roommate does keep her insanity intact. and lastly, but definitely not the least, there's @forgaeven whom seemingly accepts her for who she is. he hasn't backed down and ran away as fast as he could. he has gone above and beyond hiding from his own father just to spend some time with her. when her dark gaze falls upon him, there's no tint of aversion coming through. at last, she has fallen into the right place at the right time.

pupils kept dilating as she observed him closely — it's one of the greatest perks of being a serial killer. she did warn him, didn't she now? often times she finds that the prey does take the bait willingly, knowing what's coming right after. tyler seems to do the same. she doesn't break the eye contact when he pulls her closer, instead she keeps it steady, chin rising for this purpose. ❝ you'll regret this. ❞ she utters in a slightly softer tone, her gaze still intact. one unholy night, she promised a young boy she will kill her husband efficiently. and the memory flashed before her very own eyes if only for a fleeting moment. it's been years since she was in contact with joel and wednesday was almost certain she would never feel those homicidal tendencies kicking in again.

yet there she were, the space between her and tyler barely even there. and so many options laid out in front of her. those too came in a flash, all options achivable even in an open space like the one they were in. a punch to the chin could make him pass out but that wouldn't be effective — she needs to look him in the eye to see if he regrets his choice of words. perhaps she could go for his throat while she trips him, so he falls backward? no... that's still not good enough. she needs to think bigger, he was talking big, therefore she needs to give up something bigger than he expects. the thrill of it all rushes through her system and her facial muscles twitch like they do on the deceased in the first stages of decomposition. wednesday may be alive to maim other individuals but she did resemble a corpse in the morgue more than the ones actually residing in there.

❝ don't you know there are more ways to kill a man than by using poison? ❞ her voice changes in pitch once more, this time her tone growing neutral with each syllable uttered. with a sleigh of hand she reaches to grab his wrist tightly, slowly moving his hand away from her. though the physical contact is still there, just on wednesday's own accords. ❝ we'll see if you'll stand by your words soon enough. ❞ there it is, a promise. that it wasn't over and there will be a next time. under much worse circumstances. after spitting out the verbal threat she suddenly lets go of her grasp 'round his wrist, gaze shifting to his hand for a brief moment before reverting back to him.

❝ since you're so eager to die at my own hand, i suppose i should just send thing to let you know where the torturing will take place. but right now i need you to come with me. a sneak peek for tomorrow, if you're willing to follow. ❞

two, she says, in the same room.

maybe he ought to feel like dread has dropped low inside his stomach, but tyler doesn't. instead, his grin grows wider—he feels young, like a normal teenager—rolling his eyes at the obvious joke she's laying at his feet. and that's all this is, right ? it's a joke. or a version of one from wednesday's perspective. tyler feels... enthral. that's a big word, he knows. he's been reading up more, ever since he's hung around her.

( she's a writer, you know. or an aspiring writer. he's hoping to read her book one day—when it's published. and then, maybe, hopefully, understand every word she's written. it's a small dream he has. a good one, he thinks. safe. his. )

but, yeah. she's just—he means, look at her. yeah, you'd think she's all odd with the things she say, but look at how much fun she's actually having. how funny, how smart. it's—cute, is the only word tyler could think of. she's cute. she makes him want to reach out, push away at the bangs around her forehead before he pulls her closer, even at a risk of her possibly biting his hand clean, just to get a closer look at that frown.

like he said: she makes him feel... young, normal. a bizarre association, he knows, considering she's the outcast, and he's—what they call—a normie.

( laurel wouldn't have the same opinion. oh, she would praise him for pulling wednesday's attention away, but that's about it. the rest, she isn't so happy about. remember that she's just a distraction, tyler. you only listen to me, alright? because i'm the only one who would ever understand you. who would ever tell you the truth. wednesday would regard you nothing but a plaything. she'll be bored soon enough–which is why we have to eliminate her. do you understand ? can you be good for mom— )

❛ yeah, i'm starting to think i do— ❜ he loops a finger into the hook of her belt, pulls her closer. he's right. he likes her like this, closer. ❛ the cobra's boring. tell me other ways you'd like to kill me. i'd still think you're adorable through all of it. ❜

[miercolaes]

isolating the victim is one of a serial killer's great assets - the ace hidden under the sleeve. wednesday shifts in her place, her mind plagued with that notion. @forgaeven knew what to say to keep her entertained, which is why she always finds herself going back to him. deep down, she hopes tyler is just like her : a little misunderstood, down to a challenge (like, who's one step ahead of the other this time?). chin rose up, dark gaze staring unblinkingly at him. ❝ i get it now, ❞ she uttered, rims of her pout twitching upward, ❝ your friends avoid you and i because what's worse than one serial killer? ❞ a small pause commences, wide eyed gaze growing even wider, ❝ two. in the same room. ❞

if one looked closer, they'd notice the flicker in her obsidians, how her pupils dilated as soon as she uttered her thoughts. wednesday was not aware where to aim at her target ; was she enthralled by his warning, a promise with bad intentions, or was it her heart dictated something else, something she has laborously tried to shove deep down ever since she could remember? only time could tell. but in that fleeting moment, she felt understood. and she would trade weems's wrath if only to feel this sentiment again.

❝ careful. ❞ her own warning towards him, it came unexpectedly, as if it was on the tip of her tongue for a while now, it just waited to be uttered. he entered her game and there was no backing down now. ❝ the coral snake may appear, as you said, adorable, but that does not change its nature. one bite can still put you in a position where you're one foot in the grave. ❞ cue the closing in of the space between them two. each step towards tyler begged the question : is wednesday flirting or is she starting a fight? the answer unknown, but the evergrowing tension spiking nonetheless.

dark gaze flickers downward before reverting back to him. a myriad of thoughts rushing in within her psyche, however one being more proeminent than the rest, ❝ do you have a death wish? ❞ she spills it with the disdainful detachment of a scientist watching the trinity test prevail.

tyler tilts his head to one side, looking at her, and there's a playful small smirk that plays at the edge of his lips as he retorts: ❛ well, have you considered that maybe i want us to be alone ? ❜

he's bold, sue him. being with wednesday sort of have that effect on you, okay ? or, well, maybe that's just the hopeful boyishness in him that's talking, because — because yeah, she's- a bit kooky, and weird, and a lot off-putting, but she's also... she doesn't let others dictate what she does, or how she behaves, and tyler could count on one hand who else would even come close, because not a lot of people would.

oddly enough, in a world that feels too fast ( too big for his skin, too foreign, too nauseating ), wednesday makes him feel... normal.

it's too bad she's a threat; that one way, or another, tyler will have to end her too. how loud would she scream, he wonders ? how much of her composure would she lose ? oh, how laurel would love it. how tyler would, just because his master will.

❛ face it, wednesday. you're not that grotesque as you'd like to think you are. i, for one, think you're adorable. ❜ oh yeah, he's definitely gonna get in trouble for that, but tyler's already trying his best not to burst out laughing.

[miercolaes]

she's admittedly a tad startled by his response ; but she keeps her composure on the outside, expression as blank and devoid of life as ever, obsidians staring at him. @forgaeven doesn't seem to fit the norm, he's not yet taken off. wednesday shifts her position ever so slightly, to better face tyler.

❝ some of us thrive in chaos. and while you seem to enjoy my presence, you're merely a drop in the ocean. ❞ and if she looks deeper, so is everyone else. one may wish to believe there's significance in their existence, but that is not necessarily true. ❝ remind me again, how many of your friends called me an outcast? and how come none of them are joining us? ❞

a sip is taken from her quad, ❝ i don't need to physically engage to know i do have that effect on others. ❞ a light shrug follows, barely noticeable. ❝ or perhaps i am wrong and it's you they avoid. what did you do to them? ❞ a hint of sarcasm delivered in a monotonous pitch.

❛ right, ❜ he has no idea about anything she's just said, but - that's just the thing about her, isn't it ? she does her own thing. she doesn't shy from it, doesn't hide. that's... a nice to thing to see. a nice thing to think he could one day emulate - though tyler doubts it.

she's the fan of the macabre, he's—

❛ what's, uh, what's the first step, then ? 'cause i gotta' admit, i kinda like having you around and that... sorta ruins jean's hypothesis, doesn't it ? ❜ @miercolaes

[miercolaes]

he may have had a great point - but stopping was never an option, was it? she could've done it from the very start, when she was but a kid, a silver tray placed in front of her. she doesn't remember this exact memory, but she's heard it before : the little storm cloud looked through the items laid on the tray and reached for the dagger. her father proud to see she was an addams to her very core, already prepared for her mazurka. what gomez may have ommitted was the fact that wednesday's eyes lit up afore danger. the reason she never cried as a child was because knives were hanged up around her crib and she found peace in the fact someday one of the straws will fail, knife right through her.

she could've stopped - or rather, she could've been stopped. and that would've been a shame, for the world wouldn't have known wednesday as she were, as she stood there before him, dark gaze prying on him. once again, she could not differentiate between the danger lurking and her need to protect those deemed as leeches by society's strict norms. as he took a step back she countered with one forward. some sort of waltz, though neither were touching one another - at last, a dance she could enjoy. head slants as she reaches for the bars, opening the door. ❝ that would defy the point of breaking in, well, here. ❞ she uttered, her gaze drifting from @forgaeven for a brief moment, before reverting back.

❝ since you were locked up, i had a chance to read more about your kind. ❞ she's gone through many books, some lent from uncle fester while others were plain literature found in almost any library out there. she's done plenty of reading and none could neither verify nor disapprove her hypothesis : that he could be his own master. it didn't help sheriff galpin refused to tell her whether or not laurel was found dead in some ditch. either way, they can help each other. or, in other terms, he could still help her achieve those means to an end. ❝ let's see if i'm wrong. ❞ a leap of faith as she marches onward, approaching the enemy. in many ways, tyler resembled joel : the look in his eyes, the principles. though those might be subjected to change, at one point in time they stood true.

❝ last time i didn't expect you to turn on me. this time i expect anything. so carry on. do what you must. ❞ because so will she, the idea she never finished out loud. she stops dead in her tracks, both hands loose around her petite frame, her chin rose up only the slightest bit. she hasn't blinked once since she laid eyes on him and she won't revert to it anytime soon. whatever it is her instincts or sentiments are screeching within, she refuses to acknowledge them. it's time she gets herself some answers.

she's insane, he thinks.

she's insane, but— but that's what he used to like about her, right ? used to ? did he ever like her ? he... he thinks he did. he thinks he does. maybe if he were normal ( maybe if he weren't a freak ), it would've all been so easy. he would take her out on dates in various graveyards and tombs and any abandoned filled-with-cobweb places she might find endearing. he would buy her odd trinkets with dark history, watch as her eyes light up in that slightest way it does whenever she's interested, or impressed, or even, dare he say, happy. he would indulge in any horrific story he knows she has in her back pocket, wondering what'll happen next, listening, because he's starting to believe that maybe that's all she's ever wanted.

it's for someone to just listen to her.

( funny, because isn't that exactly how laurel got to him ? all those time at the cafes. all those sly smiles, and forlorn sighs. a listening ear, a sympathetic coo. all of those secret meet-ups in her cars. and her hands— her hands on him— and then the cave. tyler still doesn't remember a lot of it, but he remembers that she's got things with her. a syringe and a book and her soft voice, telling him it's okay... but it isn't, is it ? it isn't okay. and where were his clothes, and what is she doing to him, and why is he here— )

but he's not anywhere near normal, and she's— she's clearly loved toying with the concept of death more than he anticipates because the door to the cell cracks under the effort of the wrench. she still hasn't moved, still hasn't gotten away, and something inside him boils. it burns with that angry rustling of the- of the- of the hyde- of the damn fucking monster, and how it wails, because hadn't his master asked him to finish the job if she couldn't ? hadn't his master commanded that she kill wednesday if she failed ?

❛⠀ stop this. ❜ tyler paces back, trying to incorporate the breathing exercises the psychiatrist here has been teaching him. thornbill's dead, he tries to reason with the beast inside, though it wails. it mourns. it grieves harrowingly: it wants its revenge. and tyler thinks about dad: who's tired and worn and who keeps seeing him every week to tell him about the lawyers and them fighting to lower the sentences and how it'll be alright and this isn't his fault's and how fucked up is that, because can tyler even believe his words after the secrets he kept ? because doesn't dad know people have died because of tyler ? because of this side to mom that he doesn't ever talk about, let alone tell tyler about—

his eyes burn. his breathing accelerates. he stares at wednesday and, for a moment, wishes he isn't in some fucking jail. that they're normal teenagers, with normal problems, and normal wants. that maybe this is just another date, and later, he'll get to see her smile, even if it'll be small. even if it'll only last a second. ❛⠀wednesday, get out of here.  ❜

[miercolaes]

there are plenty of motives for her presence afore him. finishing what she started that unfaithful night at nevermore isn't part of her plan. in the grand scheme of it all, he's just another outcast. probably still controlled by a master, but that's why she came for him. wednesday doesn't utter a word in response, at first. instead, she approaches carefully, woeful gaze locked on @forgaeven.

❝ is that what you want ? ❞ she queried, deeming it only fitting to answer to his question with another one. both hands cupped around the lock that kept both of them safe from one another. fortunately, wednesday prefers the chaos theory over the pendulum one. ❝ and here i thought you were done pursuing me. ❞ she uttered slowly whilst attempting to open the lock. click. and she turned the wrench clockwise, at last giving tyler the option to escape.

❝ or is it laurel's orders to take yourself out if you're caught? ❞ though she doubts the idea that laurel was aware of secret agents procedures, it wasn't entirely far-fetched either. wednesday was expecting anything from both of them.

❛ what ? you're here to finish me off ? ❜

@miercolaes /  short starter call ♡