#patriiiarch

[matriiiarch]

Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc —— independent & selective MORTICIA & GOMEZ ADDAMS from the original Charles Addams cartoons ; & most adaptations.  Est. 2017.  written by rae & starry.   warning: blogs may contain triggering content.

[patriiiarch]

#PATRIIIARCH — independent & selective GOMEZ ADDAMS from the original Charles Addams cartoons ; & most adaptations (not including Netflix’s WEDNESDAY)  established Oct. 2017.  handled by STARRY (25+, she/her) — blog may contain triggering content.  in primary association with matriiiarch

RULES. ABOUT. VERSES. NAV.

[sawsomeghosts]

Merry Christmas @mortiiicia & @patriiiarch !

[thebadtimewolf]

+13 ||

@thirtnth | @stcrrka | @lvrmuse | @thebishxpfamily | @ineffablemum | @pi-jessicajones | @notniice | @ultimategiinge | @drapetxmaniia | @sinnerinchurch | @thatcertainnight | @patriiiarch | @harknesstm

“Is it good or bad that I’m unfazed by this entire predicament we’re in?” She had asked as she leaned against her hand, pressed against the wall as support. Which was a good question to ask considering that most would have panicking but, she felt...nothing. Nothing at all and that feeling itself had given her a hint of self-concern.

[clairvxyxnt]

@patriiiarch | From HERE

At first, it’s all she can do but smile and try to hold back any sort of laugh - while private property damage was, OF COURSE, far from a joke...Well, the visual paired with his words WAS funny. Just a little and despite her best intentions. 

But then he guesses in ONE.                                                    Well, mostly guesses in one, at least. She much preferred the term CLAIRVOYANT as opposed to psychic, the two vastly different in classification and skill as far as she viewed such a thing. 

“I’m afraid that’s not EXACTLY what I tend to predict for the vast majority, Mister Addams. I’m not a CARNIVAL TRICK.” There’s a pause, all of a half second long, before she starts slightly with remembrance of her manners - there was no dutiful husband at her side to do introductions just yet, after all. She was on her own, for the moment - wandering from the house that first requested the Warren’s so desperately in search of whoever owned the eerie property taken straight from a Gothic novel of Dickens nature. 

“My name is Lorraine Warren. My husband and I work with the church - your neighbours are QUITE certain there’s hauntings around here and, well,” Her eyes drift to the graveyard slightly out of view, letting blue eyes speak for her.

“Where else would I start my investigation?”

[theoriesoflove-old]

"How was Denton then? Is it somewhere we should all visit as a family?" They were always looking for new places to travel. "Fester didn't explore the town the last time he was there. Just stayed in the castle."

“No. No, no, no, no, Gomez. It’s fricking unsettling. And NOT the way we like!” He didn’t feel so bad complaining about Denton when it was just him and his cousin. He just hoped the kids were being nice to Brad up in the playroom. “Everything was cookie-cutter pastel bullshit. Everyone just smiled these big fake smiles and pretended they liked each other and the moment someone saw Brad and me – uh, together, they went off on him. I’ve never been more upset in my entire life. If he hadn’t been there, I might’ve shot up the whole town.”

[sweetbitterbitten]

@patriiiarch

She turns up, as always; an unexpected package in crooked doorways. A wolf in cat’s clothing. A shark in sheepskin. Vixen among the venison. There are a rare few, a certain breed that she visits with any regularity. The stimulating Stokers, Hannibal and his hareem. But none so delightful as the demented and darling Addamses, whose hearth and home is ever open and inviting to her whirlwinded run throughs. Winking to the mammoth guard and groundskeeper as she breezes past, shedding coat, scarf, AND glove in her wake - she calls out to the house at large, lofting up into every dark corner and echoing in every crevice.  “I’ve violets for the ancestors and spirits for the living!” She cries, shaking the rare vintage as if in a wave; a wild metronome, too fast and out of time. “And a possible BODY for the children to BURY in the trunk of my CAR! Climb out, climb out, Auntie Alice is come!”

[unclebarnavelt-blog]

@patriiiarch

     “Uncle Jonathan?”

     The young boy sniffled softly as he slowly dragged his feet across the carpet before making his way down the staircase, swaying back and forth ever so slightly. It evident to all that he was feeling far from well.

     Glancing up from the plate of cookies laid out on the dining table, Jonathan pulled back his own thieving hand as he popped the entire cookie into his mouth, chewing quickly just as he heard his nephew coming around the corner. “Yes?”, he inquired with a muffled tone, his cheeks comically puffed out from the cookie he was still eating. Upon seeing Lewis though, Jonathan swallowed thickly, immediately taking notice of the redness around the boy’s eyes along with his pale complexion. “Woah, kid, you don’t look so good. You alright?” 

     Wiping his crumb covered fingers on his pant leg, the older man crossed the room over to Lewis, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s head, chuckling as he realized his entire palm practically covered half of Lewis’ face. “You, my young warlock-in-training are burning up and that is no good. Can’t have that, nope. I’ll never hear the end of it from Florence, that old purple gizzard, if you get me sick and looking grosser than usual.”, he stated with a light hearted laugh. “Probably best to skip poker night tonight and go straight to bed.” The young boy’s shoulder slumped downward, his expression changing to one of disappointment. “But what about poker night and meeting your friend?” “Ah, he comes and goes. You’ll get a chance to meet him one day. I promise. Besides, this gives you more time to prepare yourself to meet him and believe me, you’ll need A LOT of preparing. I mean, if you thought I was weird...”, he added, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Though it was true, his friend was weird.....he was one of the good ones.

     “Go on now, go to bed and-wait!” Jonathan turned back to grab a cookie from the plate, handing it to his nephew with a childish grin on his face. “Have a cookie for the road. You’re sick. You’ve earned it. I promise, this one is all chocolate and not nuts...like Florence.” It made the warlock’s heart swell with joy hearing Lewis laugh out loud. “Alright, off to bed with you.” Jonathan escorted the boy to the bottom of the stairs, watching the ten year old hobble up them before disappearing around the corner.

     Jonathan shook his head, slowly making his way back over to the dining room, continuing his task of setting up the table, becoming pensive as he wonder if he was doing okay. Fatherhood was something new to him and given that his own father was not the kindest of people, he didn’t have a much to go off of. He was simple; winging it. “Okay, food, drinks, poker stuff, definitely need that. Guess there’s nothing to do but wait.”

[wiccanarchived]

💎💎💎

                 “  reminds  me  of  someone  …  that  WAS  warm  &  familiar  but  you’re  DEFINITELY  not  as  sinister  as  he  really  was  .  a  refined  historian  -  type  with  a  penchant  for  the  macabre  given  all  the  totally  ancient  torture  devices  &  the  smell  of  smoke  that  always  makes  me  just  a  little  nervous  .  “  //  @patriiiarch

THREE  ASSOCIATIONS  (  ACCEPTING  !  )  //  ASKBOX

[gonnabiteya]

@patriiiarch | From HERE

Elliott was, to put it quite simply, LOITERING. Black nailed fingers flew across his cracked phone, texting his mother about the parents evening and if she could make it (Something about an emergency patient threw their entire evening into utter turmoil), head low and attention split between the music blaring from an earbud and vaguely on the corridor. 

      - SHIT, wait, was someone talking to HIM? 

Pulling the black wire out of his ear, Elliott looked up to be met with...Right, sure, okay, that was Mr Addams. He’d heard about him from Wednesday a few times when they worked on plays together, and wasn’t she PERFECTLY right in describing her dear father? He was everything she put to the name. 

A smile blossomed across his face, kicking off the wall to approach Gomez with thinly veiled amusement.

“Oh yeah. Colour and all. They REFUSED to even put mine up, it wasn’t ‘HAPPY’ enough, apparently.” His hands move to grey jean pockets, shoving his phone away, before offering a freckled hand to shake. 

“Mr Addams, right? I’ve seen you around - Wednesday’s kinda a friend of mine. Brilliant lil’ actress you’ve got in her.” 

[matriiiarch]

✨🧡🌙SEND THIS TO TEN OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING ✨

THANK YOU, MY DARLING! 🖤 I'll just tag people because I feel like that's just easier: starting with you! @woesdayy / @patriiiarch / @deviaticn / @niiteshade / @drdumaurier / @woedensdag / @not-perky / @wickedlehane / @alyafae / @perfectdespair

[hawkinsghost]

@patriiiarch

  👻     she took a wrong turn - and she stood at the gate of this - how could she describe it , enormous house - ideas and suggestions spinning around in her head as she tried to decide if she should ask someone for directions. Maybe they weren’t home. Maybe they would be afraid of her? Hands are nervously fiddling with the bottom of the sheet that covered her , a silent gasp & a jump is earned when she realizes she’s already being looked at!! 

[sawsomeghosts]

"Lydia, you are invited to our home for Christmas." Gomez felt like he didn't even need to say that; she could come and go as she pleased! "And anyone you wish to bring along with you is welcome, too!" It was the time of year to spread some holiday despair, after all!

               Lydia was honored by the invitation and would love to come to the Addams home for Christmas. She just wondered if her own parents would welcome the invitation the way that she did and would consider coming to their home that day. She really hoped they did. She’d like to see what Christmas was like in the Addams family’s home.  ❝ I’d love to, ❞  she said with a cheery smile.  ❝ I have some more Christmas shopping to do but I already have something in mind I want to get all of you. ❞

@patriiiarch

[withhclding-a]

❝ black DRAINS you, you know? ❞ narrowed eyes peruse the board between them with practiced judgment, nails drumming lightly against her glass as she considers her coming move. ❝ unless you're celebrating a death, it’s a pretty misguided choice, bud. ❞

( @patriiiarch |  starter call !! )

[theoriesoflove-old]

"I forgot what I was going to say because I got distracted by organ removal." He shrugs and waves his bloodied hands. "I'll get back to you when I remember."

“–I mean. Do ya need help, cuz?” It didn’t even matter what Gomez was going to say. Sterling was very interested in whatever it was he was doing now. “I need to kinda get better at removin’ organs more…cleanly. Or efficiently, rather.”

He was already rolling up his sleeves, eager.

[sweetbitterbitten]

@patriiiarch

She sits sleekly, a river of red in the dark decor of her host’s decadent den; middling frame lengthened like the slanted slash of a burning sword, one leg crossed gracefully over the other. The delicate stemware housing her bordeaux of choice, a rare and devastating year from the Addams own cellar, braced lightly atop her thigh in a gentle cradle between the controlled fingertips of one hand - the other - laid longways across the back of the svelte settee.  “I don’t mind monsters.” She enumerates. “It’s the claws and teeth I take issue with. I’d rather see what’s about to sink it’s fangs in me before it does. Sadly, surprise seems the cornerstone of most beasties hereabouts.”