#who killed the lawn

[discocandles]

Jason Todd, but he's not around the batfamily very often, bc i can.

It's not unusual for Jason to just kind of be gone for anything bat-esque for a while. Sure he'll still be in Gotham doing some crime fighting, but just not make many appearances in Wayne Manor/the Batcave.

And it's not out of sheer spite, surprisingly enough. its bc after being a crime lord then quitting to be an anti-hero, he came to the realization that being Red Hood couldn't be the only thing he was using his life for. he would end up like Bruce, only using a civilian identity when he absolutely had to. But Jason Todd was legally dead, so he wouldn't ever have to be a civilian, but at the cost of losing himself to a vigilante identity. I don't believe Jason would want to take that risk.

So he makes a fake identity so he can live in a (shaky) routine as a civilian. He still goes by Jason, given its a common enough name. but he changes his last name to Devoss, as it has the same meaning as todd but is of Dutch decent rather than english, bc I'm the kind of nerd that still wants names to mean the same thing even it's not the point whatsoever, so Jason is too. Plus its better than most of the name changes DC has done.

Anyway. Jason's "routine". The only reason it could be considered a routine is bc he typically goes to the same places. he drops by the same coffee shop at least three times a week, frequents the same gym, and visits the library about once a week. he's in the bare minnimum of consistency & sticks to it.

Despite being given enough money from Bruce to count as a solid income, Jason still lives in walking distance of Crime Alley. the landlords there don't care who you are so long as you pay rent, bc who wants to live near Crime Alley? barely anyone. Later he gets a job, which actually cements his routine. he works as a chef in a chain restaurant, and he's so good at it, it's like hes being petty about it.

Actually, being petty is the most common thread most of the people who know Jason Devoss as an aquaintance have. He's petty about entitled customers who start screaming in at his regular coffee stop, if someone he tends to work out with has a cheating partner and the assholeperson has a hole in thier can of mace and their knife is suddenly dull(neccessities in Gotham), Jason has no clue how someone could manage that. Absolutely none.

Ok, back to Jason getting a job. So like I said earlier, Jason gets a job as a line cook, bc they really dont keep people from the job unless you're actively supposed to be in Arkham(exemptions can be made for blackgate). Which is why having a civilian identity is helpful, bc being both legally dead and spending some time as a mob boss probably wouldn't jive with any hiring manager ever. But he's able to make himself a normal part of the scenery, and makes the most effective closing shift, totally not be he has patrol that he's already late for. He begins to have to switch between taking orders and making food.

And this is how he ends up meeting Bernard, bc they have to work together to figure out what Tim would want. Jason realizes that this isn't some other kid named Tim he thinks "oh this is going to be rich." bc no one in the family has been to his work so far since he started working in the front of house, and he hasn't mentioned it to them.

So Tim walks in, and sees his bf, then he sees Jason, who just says "Oh, you must be Bernard's boyfriend. Nice to meet you." Smiling like he's never done anything remotely wrong in his whole life. Now Tim is questioning everything and can only repond with something akin to "Mhmm yup. Nice to meet you too." & is on edge for the rest of the date, bc his brother is being paid to watch his date, and will interrupt them for refills or other nonsense when he was beginning to forget Jason was there.

Bonus points if it's before Tim introduces Bernard to the family.

The batfamily knows where he is, and he knows they know. No one who has met Batman once can have him be unaware of their whole family tree, of course he knows where his son is. Jason will sometimes get visits, most often from Duke, be despite the fact that Crime Alley is mostly terrible, the sunset view is pretty dang good.

Duke will just be sitting on his couch when he gets home, like "you wanted to talk?" to which he and Jason will simply chat. and jason will often give critiques to Duke's technique.

The other common visitor is steph, but that's most ofting in the form of her ding dong ditching him,

-

[immakuronaakuma]

Forever pissed that when a show goes bad, everyone turns to blaming the company or the fanbase and not THE PEOPLE WRITING THE SHOW.

[liltriptofandom]

[floof-writes]

*in a whisper* Brennan. Brennan please. I know you have a lot to do. But please. Stop playing Zelda like an NPC. Let her do cool shit like the PCs she's supposedly on equal footing with. Brennan, she didn't even rage until the last round of battle. And only then to give Penny sneak attack. She didn't even action surge. You had her take two levels of fighter so she could ride a horse into an ice cave to give info to the PCs? Let her kill things. I know she's very good at it.

[v-iv-rusty]

like I'm serious, maybe I'm just misinterpreting twitter discourse(tm) or I'm getting mad about an issue that doesn't exist. or maybe I'm wrong! idk. but I see it everywhere and I see it more and more. 'talking to friends is forcing them to do emotional labor' 'don't ask for help hire a professional' 'don't ask friends to help you move out as an adult' do people act like this in real life. I hate it here

[boo-moved]

Good blocking morning

[jennycalendar]

have been thinking for some time about starting a calendiles discord server of some sort (esp with the internet crashing and burning in every direction) but quite frankly i do not have any tolerance for idiocy OR the experience that is required to moderate a server fairly. mostly it's the first thing though.

[allbeendonebefore]

people complain about magpies being the only birds in their yards and whatever and im just like can’t relate, the flickers love me because i leave the anthills in my yard. and people will really blame magpies (scavengers who occasionally bully or kill) for other dead birds and not like. cats (hunt for sport). what ?

anyway putting more peanuts out for the baby pies and leaving all the pine cones in a heap for the finches because lawn culture sucks muahahahaha

[junadeo]

YES!!

decriminalize:

sex work

addiction

criminalize: 

golf

[fourdiagnosesinatrenchcoat]

My dad was looking sideways at a hot young goth girl at this apple orchard, in platforms and black tights, trying to get me to laugh with him at her choice of clothing, and meanwhile he's in a patterned fleece and sweatpants so I'm not sure he really had any ground to stand on.

[orcelito]

Ok I kind of am glad to have given this Isobu arc a chance. I'm not entirely sold on the Guren and Yuukimaru stuff, but I'm getting to see a lot more of the minor characters I don't usually see. INCLUDING so many female characters!!!!! Started off with Hinata, then Sakura, and now Ino, Shizune, AND Tenten are all here!!! Five female characters active in one arc!!! Practically unheard of for Naruto!!!! Plus Guren makes 6 I guess, though I don't really like how they're like "here's a Ruthless Woman who thinks of nothing except becoming one with Orochimaru!!!! ...except now here's a child, and after just a few days her Motherly Instincts are thawing her heart!!!!!! She's not so ruthless after all!!!!" Like I mean it's sweet, but also it sucks that they're doing this with one of the few female villains. Like why are most of the women reduced to mothers and girlfriends??? In the end, basically all of them get this fate. Or they die. Come on can't we have a woman that just sucks??? Smh.

[qualitychaoslover]

I'm not judging anyone, but I think people might be tiniest bit hypocritical when they treat Asian people like they're monsters for eating dog, meanwhile they had bacon for breakfast. I absolutely could never eat dog, and im not going to judge others for eating pig, but pretty much every argument you could give for not eating dogs could apply to pigs

[itwasanangryinch]

You used to support a "before URL [parameter]" as you called it in the same way you do on the dashboard. The actual dashboard, not the weird "following" thing you renamed it as a couple of years ago.

What a truly weird thing to write! Why deny what was a basic feature of your website for 12+ years?

And more importantly, what advantage does it give your site really to turn the tags into a shittier version of infinite scroll? Being able to go back years and years into an archive was one of the unique features of tumblr compared to any other social media and allowed for posts to live on for years. Now they only live on if you happen to find the blog that originally posted something or it happened to get popular at the time.

Hello there. I remember when we could find the oldest posts in a specific tag using the url https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/thetagiwanttosearch?before=timestamp. Today, when browsing a tag, the url shows ?page=number. Unfortunately, entering the url with a specific page number only redirects to the first posts in the tag. Is there a way to (1) reach a specific date in a tag other than browsing manually until I get to that date? (2) browse forward from the oldest posts in a tag? (3) and most importantly pick up where I left off if my browsing session is interrupted?

Answer: Hi, @somewhatavidreader!

We do not support a “before” URL param on tagged pages, though we do in some other places, like the “Following” dashboard. This is possibly what you are remembering.

But now for some good news—we are in the process of adding better ways of filtering search results. We recently added a “year” and a “date” operator, that lets you target a specific year and even date! You can try this out by typing #cats date:2023-10-31 into the search box to get results for a tag or search term filtered to a particular day.

We hope this helps! Thanks for your question, and keep 'em coming, folks.

[reidrum]

under the mistletoe

note: happy first day of reidrumas! a nice little munch!spencer to keep you warm <3

summary: in which penelope uses a plant to get her friends together, or the time you find yourself under the mistletoe with spencer

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, munch!spencer, fingering, oral (f receiving), heavy kissing, idiots in love, friends to lovers, fem!reader, reader wears a dress and heels

wc: 2.8k

12 days of reidrumas

The annual BAU Christmas Party became an accord Penelope headed all on her own, and was a job she took very seriously. The amount of times the team had been called away on a case near or on a major holiday is too sad a number to count, so whenever there was certainty that there would be no case or bureau event, Penelope went all in.

That is, on David Rossi’s credit card, of course.

Light up sleighs and reindeers adorned the front lawn of Rossi’s mansion, of which was decorated with red ribbons and twinkle lights galore. The silhouette of the biggest Christmas tree you think you’d ever seen was illuminated in the window as you approached the front, rubbing clammy hands down the sides of your dress.

You don’t even know why you’re so nervous, just that you are. While it had been some time since you had joined the team and you have definitely had some fun nights out with them, the nerves never get easier to deal with when you know a certain genius will be in your presence.

It seemed everyone knew of your crush on Spencer except the man himself. The way your face heats up when you’re near him, the words tripping over each other as you try to speak, somehow are not dead giveaways to him. If he notices your nerves, he doesn’t mention it, and you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

A call of your name from the bottom of the stairs grabs your attention, and you see none other than Spencer coming up the stairs to meet you. He straightens out his sweater and looks at all of you, “You look nice.”

Suddenly you forget what words are, “Um…I.. thanks! I just got this, and I thought the antlers would be cute too.” you gesture to the light up headband. 

“They’re really cute.” he smiles and gestures you to walk in, and you’re both ambushed by Penelope immediately.

“You’re here! Oh, you look so cute with your little reindeer antlers,” she gushes, “And Spencer! Looking so dapper!” You both walk down the hallway with her, seemingly leading you to the kitchen when she abruptly stops halfway.

“You’re too cheery. What did you do?” you squint.

“Don’t hate me.”

Your eyebrows raise, “What did you do?”

“Why would we hate you?” Spencer says at the same time.

Penelope pauses, and with a hint of mischief in her voice, “Look up.”

Your eyes trail upwards to the arch of the door you’re both stood in, and there hanging with its leaves and red and white berries tied in ribbon, is of course, mistletoe.

“Penny.” you mumble under your breath. If she heard you she paid no mind, only beaming at you both with her Cheshire cat grin. You look over at poor Spencer, who’s sheepish smile and red cheeks are breaking through his stoic demeanor. 

“Did you know mistletoe in nature is actually poisonous? It’s a parasitic plant that has to grow on other trees in order to survive. But it’s holiday tradition comes from Norse mythology when the son of Odin is killed and his mother is so upset her tears turn into the berries on the plant, as a symbol of her love for him.” Spencer rambles out of nervousness.

“That sounds nice Spence,” Penelope grabs both of your hands and positions you in front of each other in the doorway, “Okay great, I’m sure you know the rules of mistletoe. Now kiss.”

“Penelope.” you lightly chide. Her persistence is a match for no one, there’s no way of getting out.

“You have to, that’s the rule! If you don’t, Christmas will be ruined!” she sighs dramatically.

You blink at her a few times hoping she understands that she’s out of her mind and that it’s a little cruel to put you and Spencer in this situation. This is probably his worst nightmare. He has that thing with germs you remember and you both are merely friends so there’s no way he’d see you like that, yet alone want to kiss you because a plant said you had to.

Spencer clears his throat in front of you, and says with a soft voice, “Well, if it’s going to ruin Christmas…”

Huh. Maybe not as cruel as you think.

You turn your head to meet his eyes, “You’re okay with this?”

He nods sheepishly, “I—I mean I love holidays, and even though I’d never done this part of Christmas, I’d hate to break tradition….”

You look at him with disbelief, but Penelope’s smile could not be wider and she squeals, “Amazing! Okay, I’m ready.”

You both look at her knowingly, and she immediately puts her hands up. “Alright, fine! I can take a hint. But, I want details later, both of you.” she busies herself off in the kitchen.

Spencer turns his body to face you, hands tentatively reaching out to ghost the curve of your hips. His eyes look to you for permission, and with a slight nod he takes purchase, bringing you closer while resting his hands on your sides. You gingerly place your flat palms on his shoulders, and it’s then you realize just how close you both are. His breath fans softly against your face, and even in heels you find yourself rising a bit further to meet his lips.

Just mere milliseconds before your lips meet he whispers with the softest pitch you’ve ever heard, “You sure this is okay?”

You think you give him a nod and a word of approval, but it’s lost as soon as you press your lips onto his with no hesitancy. His hands pull you closer to him, leaning deeper into the kiss. The endorphins run loose before  being corralled immediately as the kiss ends as quickly as it began.

He pulls back and he stares at your puffy lips, lips that are puffy because of him and it’s enough to drive him insane. He needs to find a way to have you like that again, to feel your lips against his again fearless of a watchful eye, to show you that he really doesn’t give a damn for tradition, but would do rituals and ceremonies on end if it meant getting to kiss you like that again.

You’re about to say something when your name is called from the living room, the other girls now noticing your arrival and waving you over to grab a drink. You look between them and Spencer, “I should go,” you say reluctantly, “Find me later?”.

He smiles softly, “I’ll find you later.”

You hesitate before moving, wondering if it’s even a good idea. But you realize you’re already this far deep, so what difference would it make? Your eyes dart between the girls and Spencer once more making sure they’re not looking, and rise to your toes again to kiss his cheek, “See you later, Spence.”

A blush rises to his cheek as he touches the spot with his fingers, watching you walk into the living room. You might be the death of him, he thinks.

—

The party’s gone on, games of white elephant are played and countless wine bottles are scattered around the place. He finds himself in an aimless conversation with Matt and Luke, he thinks they’re talking about some sport, but all Spencer can think about is you and your damn lips.

You’re addictive, he’s come to find. He’s had a taste of the forbidden fruit and now fully empathizes with Eve, thinking if something was as nectarious as you, he’d also have to go to great lengths to get it again.

He excuses himself from the conversation, not caring if they said anything, and goes off to find you. You’re sat on the loveseat with JJ that’s entirely too small for the two of you, but you certainly look comfy wedged into the seat. He circles around the back, resting a hand on your shoulder to let you know of his presence and bending down to whisper in your ear, “Is this a good time to find you?”

You startle a little at the voice, calming once you recognize it to be Spencer. You’re surprised he actually came and found you like he said he would, and by the look of his face it seemed like a determined mission.

“I’d say it is,” you smile up at him, his body looming over you behind the couch. He holds a hand out for you, “I’ll be back, J.” you tell her as you stand up. She looks between you and Spencer and a smug look rises to her face.

“Okay…be safe.” she winks. You groan.

Spencer leads you away from the bustle of the living room and further into the depths of Rossi’s mansion. You both walk side by side, talking aimlessly about anything and everything, grateful to have moments just walking with each other. You push open on a fancy door, revealing a vastly large room but with the same crown modeling as the rest of the place. A three piece couch set rests in the middle, and bookshelves filled with antiques line the walls.

You’re intrigued by the telescope pointed out the window, bending down to look through it. Spencer looks up from the book he’s holding on the other side of the room and watches you. You’re ethereal, the moonlight casting a soft glow on your figure making you look like an angel from above. You gaze through the lens to look at the stars, and he can’t help but wonder how lucky he is to have you in front of him and not in the sky with the rest of them.

“Can I confess something?”

You straighten your back and turn around, eyes widening, “Um, sure.”

“Nothing scary, I promise,” he reassures.

“That’s not concerning.”

He takes a deep breath, “I had an ulterior motive, when I came to find you.”

Your brows furrow nervously, “What do you mean?”

“No no, I meant it, it’s nothing bad,” he confesses, “I just… really wanted to kiss you again.”

Oh. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Who else?” he chuckles.

You stammer, “W—Well, I just wasn’t sure…”

He nods and slowly walks to you, “Would that be okay?”

You look up at him and see that he’s so close again. The waft of his cologne invades your senses. His hair is long again, you told him once he looked good with long hair and he hasn’t so much as looked at some scissors since then. The ends of his curls tickle your forehead when his head dips, lips mere nanometers away.

“Yeah.” you barely muster an audible whisper.

The corners of his lips twitch, “Yeah?” he says in the same pitch, leaning even closer.

“Please.”

His lips press to yours again for the second time this night, and he kisses you with a fervor you couldn’t comprehend. He brings one hand up to cradle the back of your head, padding the impact as he uses the other to back you against the wall. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on the roots that makes him fold even more into you.

Kisses travel down the side of your neck to the nape, and he spends time littering the area with lovebites. The soft gasps that leave your mouth only spur him on, but it’s not nearly enough for him.

“Sweetheart,” he pants between kisses, “Need to—fuck—need to taste you, please. Can I?

Your blown out eyes meet his, and it wasn’t even an option to say no when he was begging you so desperately, “Yeah, yes, please.”

His hand snakes through the slit on your dress, tracing the edges of your panties and grinning when he hears your breath hitch. He toys with the edge some more before dipping a finger below the band, never touching you where you really need him but getting awfully close.

“Spence..” you whine.

He groans, “Fuck, you sound so pretty saying my name and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He puts you out of your misery when he finally drags the pad of his index to the bundle of nerves at your center, tracing light circles that draw the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

You grip his forearms for more stability, feeling your legs turn to jelly. Spencer sees your struggle and wraps an arm around your waist, “I got you, pretty girl it’s okay.” A few more minutes of teasing you and marking you relentlessly and he decides you’re okay enough for him to stand on your own, so he can sink to his knees in front of you.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he crouches down, making sure you’re okay every step of the way. His finger is still tracing a line from your clit to your entrance, the wet line seeping through your panties. He bunches up your dress and silently gestures to you to hold it, and steadies his hands on either side of your hips. He presses chaste kisses up your thighs, your breath getting heavier with each one closer to your center. The delirium hits an all time high when he presses a firm kiss to your core.

Skilled fingers hook your panties to the side, revealing you in all your glistening glory, “Look at you,” he marvels hoarsely, “that all for me?”

You nod fast, “Yes, yes Spence please.” you whine out, you’d sound like you were in pain if it were anyone else.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, don’t do that. I’m gonna take care of you, promise.” he coos, calming your pleas, “Come on, leg on my shoulder.”

The new angle opens you up beautifully for him and he can’t help himself when he leans in and swipes a tentative tongue through your folds, satisfied when he hears the sound of a guttural moan leave you.

You immediately slam your hand over mouth as he taunts, “Careful sweetheart, can’t be too loud or someone’s gonna walk in.”

You try to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum as he continues eating you out like a man depraved, like all he was meant for on this earth was to be between your legs. He prods a finger around your entrance and slowly slips it in, you whimper and clamp your fingers into his hair tugging tightly.

Spencer groans into you at the feeling, and adds another finger swiftly moving them in and out. You’re getting close, he can feel it from the way you clench around his fingers, unable to stop himself from thinking about how you’d feel clenching around him.

“Ah—I’m….I’m close.” you whimper.

He speeds up ever so slightly, “Yeah? Okay angel, you can let go, it’s okay.”

Soon your climax washes over you, with you gripping his hair tightly and his fingers never faltering as he rides you through it. He slows down his pace as you come down before gently taking them out and giving you one last lick through your folds before standing up.

You yelp but it’s quickly muffled by him kissing you again. He feels you smile into the kiss and matches you before you both start giggling and pull away.

He can hear the smile in your voice when you rest your forehead on his shoulder, “That was…”

An arm wraps around you again to hold stable, “Good, I hope?”

You press a soft kiss at the base of his neck, “Really good. I guess we have to thank Penny now.”

“Actually…”

“What?”

“I may have been the one to tell her to put some mistletoe up.” He confesses sheepishly.

“You told her? S—So you could…like…” you ramble.

“So I would have a chance to kiss you, yes.”

You get real shy in front of him as if he wasn’t on his knees for you five minutes ago, “That’s really sweet…you could’ve told me.”

“I wanted to! But I thought you might not feel the same way because I notice how you are around me and I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but then Penelope told me you felt the same and I just figured one of us had to pull the bandaid off.”

You smile shyly, “I get nervous around you, because I really really like you.” you quietly admit.

He pulls you close into his chest, kissing your forehead softly, “Well that’s good then, because I really really like you too.”

Penelope is obviously over the moon when she finds out, giddy as can be knowing her two best friends are now together. What she doesn’t tell you, is how she sends the mistletoe to a preservation company to be pressed and framed. She’s just preparing to have the best gift ever to bring to your wedding.

[letorip]

crimson & clover

“now i don't hardly know her, but i think i could love her"

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x mute!reader

summary: people fear that which they do not understand. it makes sense then, why you and wednesday fall in love and help each other

warnings: erm you killed a lot of people on accident, angsty in the middle there, threats of violence, descriptions of violence

word count: 5.1k

A/N: heavily inspired by black bolt, who i really do think is one of my favourite heroes. there will likely be a part 2 or 3 to this but for rn my attention is on kiss with a fist. THERE WILL ALSO BE A PART [IV] OF SOMETHIN' STUPID

KISS WITH A FIST [IV] WILL BE UP NEXT SUNDAY

===+++===

===+++===

There were certain things you couldn’t have, when one had the ability to do incredible damage, if they just opened their mouth.

When you did so, on a random Saturday morning at 10 years old, and your house burst apart, it took your parents and a chunk of the neighbourhood with it in a fiery tempest that stabbed you right through the heart. You learned then, that maybe you weren't meant to have a family.

At age 12, when the kids at the Home for Outcast Children strung you up from the monkey bars by your ankles, and you couldn’t hold in a laugh from how the world looked funny when the sky looked like the floor, you learned you weren’t meant to have friends, sitting silently in the dirty crater where the playground used to be with your head tucked into your knees.

You had thought it would be implied then, that you would never have a lover, either. But then again, there was Wednesday Addams.

It was still a mystery, why she chose you. You had assumed she would want nothing to do with you just like she didn’t want anything to do with most people, and you couldn’t have been more wrong.

The both of you met about a week after she arrived at Nevermore, in the dead of night on one of the walks you always took when everyone else had gone to bed and there was no one to watch you, no one to murmur as you went past. You didn't pose a danger to anyone, then, and it was liberating and also deeply melancholic.

That was when you were most at peace. Your thoughts, even though well-reasoned, could not be expressed. You wrote often, in a leather-bound notebook you’d let no one see, but the power was given to writing through reading it, and there was no one you could have close enough to do so. It made you tired, to be around people you couldn’t communicate with. Few people wanted to wait for you to write something out on a notebook and even fewer wanted to learn sign language.

Kinbott had a dry-erase whiteboard in her office that was just meant for you and the only deaf person in Jericho, though the old man had gone missing a few months ago, without a trace. It was humiliating, at first, and you used to write two-word sentences, curt responses doing the bare minimum, often out of anger— whether it was anger from your situation or anger at being a teenager, you didn’t know— but now you could fill it with paragraphs and kept a notebook for when communication was especially necessary.

That night itself was peaceful, with gentle, twinkling stars that were only lightly polluted by the quad’s towering lamps. You could still see their faint outlines above you, with casting shadows down the lawn from the roof’s spires, and it smelled as if it were going to rain soon.

When you heard the scuttling of something on the floor, you jumped, startled, eyes shooting down to where you were certain you had felt someone’s fingers grip at your leg. Your eyes widened in surprise at the disembodied hand, racing up the uneven cobblestones and then up the leg of someone at the far end of the quad, landing finally on her shoulder.

Wednesday with her arms crossed, looking at you with a comically large bag slung over her shoulder that must've contained all of her belongings, like a runaway in the night.

Oh. That's what she was.

You blankly stared back at her, blinking at her figure. She took a menacing step forward, her grip on the bag tightening. "Are you following me?" she asked, tone icy. When you kept looking at her without so much as opening your mouth, her apathetic eyes narrowed. "If you tell anyone you saw me, they will never find your body. Don't say a word."

It was intended to be a threat, and if it had been anyone else, it probably would've made their blood run ice over just from how cold her gaze was. But you just raised your eyebrows at her, unable to stop the amusement from tugging at the corners of your lips. The irony was very far from lost on you, and the more serious she seemed the more funny the blunder was.

"What?" she snipped. "Is something amusing to you?"

Again, you could not say. You silently shook your head, tilting it then out of curiosity, and gently pointing towards the hand on her shoulder. It sat up at your attention, sending a friendly wave in your direction. Your eyes widened, waving before Wednesday could clear her throat and pull your eyes back up to hers.

Her eyes in question were dark and intense, but beautiful, even under the dim lighting, and you had to swallow what felt like a lump in your throat, in order to regain your composure. "Why are you silent?" she asked, narrowing them at you. You were under her microscope, and she scanned you, looking for anything that would impair your immediate voice.

You raised up a hand as if to say ‘hold on,’ before tugging your notebook out from your overcoat, flipping it open and pulling out your pen. With a click, you were scribbling down on the paper, and Wednesday narrowed her eyes at you again, scanning you in suspicion.

When you were done, you flipped it around, holding it up to her eyes with a gentle smile. 'Trust me, I don't think you'll need to worry about me telling anyone anything, anytime soon.'

Her eyes combed over the words, then glanced back down to you. "Why is—" she opened her mouth out of curiosity, but a heavy door slammed shut down the hall, and she whipped around before she could finish the question.

You both could hear the footsteps coming closer, and Wednesday straightened up, grip tightening on the bag over her shoulder. "You didn't see me, and you won't ever again," she said, coldly.

You nodded, not that you believed she'd make it out. You yourself had tried to run away for the first month and a half, and after long enough, one just gave up. Nevermore was hard to escape; you doubted she had readied a good enough plan in just a few days of being there. Still, you wished her luck. The forest was dangerous, and especially now.

With a final nod in your direction, she hastily walked off, down the corridor the opposite way. You watched her go, calmly sitting near the fountain. A few moments after she disappeared down a different hallway, a very tired looking Weems came down the stairs in her nightgown, holding onto a rusted lantern.

When she saw you, she sighed. "What did I say about those nighttime walks of yours, (Y/n)?"

You smiled, tilting your head to the side and shrugging at her. Weems huffed at your attempt at cluelessness, shaking her head fondly. "Just make sure you get yourself to bed soon, alright?"

You nodded, leaning back on the fountain edge and tracing the grout lines with your thumbs. Weems turned back to the hallway Wednesday went down. "I guess Miss Addams is planning to escape tonight?" But you didn't write anything down, raising your eyebrows at her as if to say 'duh.' Weems adjusted the hem of her nightgown from where it had dragged gently on the steps. "Thank you, (Y/n). I'll see you tomorrow."

She began to follow down the path Wednesday had taken, letting the lantern lead her through the dim corridor, and you silently yawned, picking up your notebook and figuring you had enough adventure for the night.

===+++===

That was your first unofficial meeting, at least. You almost forgot it had happened the following morning, except for when Wednesday showed up in class the next day looking more displeased and unhappy to be there than normal.

It was amusing how frustrated she was, mouth drawn into an annoyed line and eyes looking especially dark. When she caught your eye as she went to take her seat, you averted your gaze back down to your notebook to hide your cheeky smile, resuming your doodle in the margin and running a nervous hand through your hair.

She kept staring throughout the lecture, as if silently daring you to mention her failure, not that you could aloud. You weren’t willing to look back, but you could see her dark eyes shift up and across the round of tables towards you from the corner of your eye, which you made sure to keep on Thornhill.

After long enough, Xavier noticed too. He whispered something to her and then glanced up at you with a look that was far from friendly. He hadn't liked you one bit, but neither did any of the other kids, when they found out. You couldn't exactly blame them, either. The school was full of monsters, but you were a monster among monsters.

"Wednesday, Xavier," Thornhill called out, crossing her arms. She wasn't angry, though. More playful. "Is something more important than our study of carnivorous plants?"

Xavier began to shake his head, starting an apology, but Wednesday cut him off, blankly staring back at Thornhill as it left her mouth. "Yes."

At the challenge, the whole class seemed to let out a comically loud gasp. Thornhill's previously teasing smile dropped to a displeased frown, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her overalls, motioning to the large glass enclosure on the table behind her. "I don't suppose you can tell me what this is, then?" At the question, you can see Bianca smirk and raise her own hand, eager to steal it away, "I haven't said the name out loud yet, and it will be on your test next—"

"—Dendrophylax lindenii." The interruption came swift from her lips, but Wednesday's eyes are still steeled over and unimpressed by Thornhill's attempt to be put on the spot.

You have to hide your amusement again, at the shocked look on Bianca's face, but she rushes to make up for it by adding something of her own. "It's also known as the Ghost Orchid—”

"—First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1852," Wednesday adds, and once more she's won. Or, she would have. You can't help the shake your head does, or the cheeky smile on your face that Wednesday locks onto, like a heatseeking missile. Her eyes are like daggers, stabbing you through and through. "Is something funny?"

She says it across the entire classroom and everyone goes silent, less focused on the plants now and more the fact that she's acknowledging your presence. You shrug, trying to diffuse the situation, but it only makes her glare at you harder. "No, go on," Wednesday demands, her tone just as icy as she had been the night before. "Tell us, what was so funny?"

"Wednesday," Thornhill warns her, sending you a sympathetic look, but she ignores her and so do you.

"Or are you still at a loss for words," she draws out, and in doing so, the rest of the class fills with 'ooh's and 'woah's. You stare at her for a moment, then silently, your hand goes to your notebook.

The moment you begin writing in it, the classroom tenses again, waiting for you to finish. You make them as big as possible, large enough that she'll be able to clearly read them across the room. When you're done, you flip it around and hold it up like a sign, face blank.

discovered 1854, not 1852

idiot.

You've circled it several times in messy pen, to make sure she really sees. The room roars even louder in surprise, and however bad Wednesday's stare was before, the new one she gives you is infinitely worse. Her face is still deadpan, but her eyes flick away down to her notebook. It’s the only time you’ve seen her approach something resembling embarrassment or fury. You're sure the 'idiot' bit didn't help, but you were far too annoyed by her poking of you to not have poked her right back.

"Well...," Thornhill tries, "It seems the Ghost Orchid isn't the only carnivorous plant in here, today." But the class is too far gone to focus up again, sending you wary glances. They don't like Wednesday, but they like you even less, so it's confusing who they should root for.

You hold her gaze until the bell rings, finally breaking it to gather your things and leave as soon as possible. Her eyes are still on you as you go, and just before you exit the room, you can hear someone mutter "freak," under their breath. You tuck your books under your arm, and duck out into the hall.

===+++===

Fall was always your favourite time of year; for once, Jericho wasn't entirely unbearable. The leaves turned a warm orange and red, falling from the trees in abundant piles on the ground, and the air fermented into something crisp and especially breathable. You let it fill your nose as much as possible.

You sat on the lawn, listening to the birds flit about and the wind brush under the branches and hem of your jumper with a book in your lap and a frown on your face. It wasn't a good book- something the internet had said was incredible but had firmly left a bad taste in your mouth, and part of you wanted to put it down and turn to something more useful. But another part of you wanted to keep reading, like being unable to look away from a car accident.

The book was so engrossing in its awfulness that you didn't notice her watching you from afar or, more so, aiming in your direction. That was, until you turned the page, and her throwing knife whizzed past your ear and lodged itself into the tree you had been sitting against.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the noise, and you turned your head to the side, looking at the shiny, reflective silver. The letters W. A. stared back at you, engraved just below the knife's spine. You frowned, and when you looked back, she was standing over you, arms crossed and expression as deadpan as always.

You raised a questioning eyebrow, looking over at the knife and then back to her as if saying, 'What was that for?'

"Your attention was required," she replied dryly.

You rolled your eyes, dog-eared the page of your book, and placed it down next to you, pulling out your notebook and your pen. You wrote a single word.

dangerous.

"Believe me, if I wanted to hit you, I am entirely capable of aiming to kill," Wednesday said. Then, after a brief look around Nevermore's green, her eyes flicked back down to you. "I'm here on business."

You search her face for a moment, narrowing your eyes. They locked in on the small bandage on her forehead, and you nodded up at it, asking her what happened with the look on your face. Her frown deepened.

"I'm in the process of crushing a bee... and almost getting crushed by a gargoyle." You blinked, but Wednesday continued. "But I won't have to do either if you agree to my request."

It's hard to deny that her words massively pique your interest. Wednesday in general massively piques your interest, and you write down the thing you really want to know.

people say you eat human flesh...

You turn the page back to her, and Wednesday seems to process the words for a moment. She looks over at you, unimpressed by the allegation. "I don't eat it. My menagerie of pets do. And even then, that's nothing close to what Enid's said about you."

You stare up at her, then scribble a couple of words on the paper.

and what's that?

"That you're dangerous. That you’re somehow infinitely worse than I am, which I'm doubtful of," Wednesday says without missing a beat. "Enid won't say anything more, and neither will Xavier." She looks around again, over the green. There's a picnic of sirens by the lake, and a few of the werewolves are playing with a frisbee. She looks back at you. "I've been warned to stay away, and your propensity for being obnoxious has made that task fairly easy so far." You begin to write again.

so why are you here

"Because," she states like it's obvious, "I want to break out of here. And you're somehow the person to have gotten the closest."

and yet

i'm still here

You turn the page to her and jab the bottom bit several times with your pointer finger.

"Well then," she says, "help me succeed."

===+++===

“And how do you think that made you feel?” Kinbott asks, eyeing her various pages of notes to the left of you. Some of the other patients in Kinbott’s care had small, yellow folders, but you had a larger red one, with your name in highlighted block letters on the front. It looked like it should’ve had a top secret sticker in the corner, not that you weren’t appreciative about your records being sealed.

You erased the board, writing a single word.

seen

Then, underneath it.

idk, like i was really there?

Kinbott nodded. “You’ve said people often ignore you a lot. Why do you think that is?”

they’re scared. they think i’ll hurt them because they heard rumours about what i did.

i can’t blame them, really

She frowned, wrapping her hands around her knee. “But that’s not really fair, is it? When was the last time you’ve caused damage with your ability, (Y/n)?”

You shrug, thinking for a moment.

about four years

“And you haven’t made any sort of mistakes, right?”

well, no

“Then why should they be afraid of you?” Kinbott asks. She’s leaning forward, looking at you with her eyes softened. “You’ve trained yourself to silently yawn, you don’t cough, you don’t sneeze, you don’t snore. I think you need to trust yourself a little more, (Y/n).”

You shrug again, but don’t write anything down, so Kinbott sighs and sits back in her chair. “Principal Weems says that she has another little Harry Houdini on her hands?”

You write down Wednesday on your board. She nods. “I’m seeing her in a little while, actually.” It makes your eyebrows raise in surprise.

why?

Kinbott shakes her head. “You know I can’t share that. Therapy is private. It seems she doesn’t plan on staying, though. Wednesday has already tried to escape.”

i know.

she asked me to help her

Her eyes scan over the words and then look back up to you, warily. “You know better than to help her, right? Nevermore could be good for Wednesday. And I thought you were actually starting to like it here.”

You nod.

i already said no

it’s too dangerous, in the woods right now. with the attacks and stuff.

“Good. And please, tell Principal Weems if you learn of any plans in the future.” You nod again, much less committed, and Kinbott looks down at her watch. “I’m afraid our time is over, (Y/n),” she says with a smile. “I’ll see you next week.”

You write a quick thank you down and stand, shoving your socks back into your shoes and tugging on your jumper, tucking it underneath the collar of your shirt and fixing your Nevermore tie. Purple stripes was never your pattern, and Weems had long since given up on trying to make you wear the coat. She figured it probably made you less likely to run away.

Wednesday is sitting in the lobby when you get down the stairs, with a bored-looking Weems come to babysit. You send her a glance, and then give Weems a nod of your head in acknowledgment.

She beams back at you. “Ah, (Y/n). We’re here for Miss Addams’ session. If you want to wander around Jericho, we can take you back to the school when we're done, if you’d like.”

You send another look at Wednesday, whose face is just as deadpan and unhappy as before, and shake your head. You point at yourself and then mime walking with your two fingers. Principal Weems frowns, but gives you and okay, and you turn around to leave.

You can feel Wednesday’s eyes on you as you head for the school. You know she's annoyed by your refusal to help her, but you can't exactly tell her why you're refusing either, especially since you're lacking any evidence for your theory. So you just told her no.

===+++===

Even from deep inside the forest, you can hear the carnival. There's a Ferris wheel towering over the trees in front of you, and circus music blasts from a few speakers so that you can faintly hear it amongst the windy branches, leaves blowing along the ground and caressing your shoes from time to time as you walk through the dark.

You're looking for something, anything, indicating someone would've been there. Sheriff Galpin had found all sorts of hikers, recently, all almost unidentifiable, with how bloodied they were, but they had yet to find anyone with a hearing aid, so you were unsatisfied. It was believed he was on vacation, but you knew the old man went to his therapy appointments every single week. He hadn't missed a single day, so you failed to believe that theory. You didn't even know his name, really.

On a tree not too far from you, there was a claw mark sunk deep into the bark, and you looked towards it, at the pattern. The idea a bear was responsible for all the deaths wasn't exactly convincing, and looking at the claws, your doubts only amplified. You pulled out your camera, aiming it towards the mark, ready to snap a shot, when you heard footsteps pounding past you.

"Rowan!" called a voice behind you, and you froze, putting the camera down and flicking your flashlight off. The last thing you needed was word getting out that you were lurking in the woods. People thought you were scary enough.

But the words weren't directed at you. You listened intently, and then you heard the faint but panicked voice again. "Rowan," Wednesday says again, and the moment you realise it's her voice, you take off running towards it.

You find Rowan with his hand held up, crushing Wednesday against a tree, and before you can stop to think, you're rushing forward, shoving him in the back and pushing him into the dirt, where he struggles to catch his breath. The moment his hand splays out in front of him, Wednesday is dropped to the forest floor. You run to her, checking her over quickly for injuries, making sure she can run. When you find none, you grab her arm, hoisting her to her feet. You send a wary look over at Rowan, who's already trying to right himself and take Wednesday's hand in yours, pulling her deeper into the forest.

It isn't long before you hear him calling out. "Wednesday!" he yells, and you freeze, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her behind a tree. You push her flush against the bark and cover her mouth with your hand, getting as close as possible so that you hide better against the trunk. She seems too scared to comment on the touch, eyes wide and chest heaving from the running. You raise your other hand and press your finger to your lips.

"Wednesday, I'm doing Nevermore a favour," he tries again. "One massive favour. You're dangerous. My mother's seen it. I can see it. Anyone who knows you can see it."

Your eyes flicker to Wednesday's in confusion, processing his words. She's staring up at you, eyes dark and full of worry, begging for him not to find you. Any idea you had about her not getting scared goes out the window. She's just as human as you are. You send her a comforting nod, peeking around the tree trunk. Rowan's a few trees away, with his back turned, scouring the area.

You begin to back away from Wednesday, gesturing over your shoulder. If you both can sneak off and go back to the carnival without Rowan noticing, you can ensure safety. She gives a curt nod, letting you take her hand in yours again. You're faster than her, she knows that. You slowly pull her with you, quietly stepping away and towards the fair.

You only make it a few steps, until Wednesday steps on a branch.

The small twig cracks under her boot, and within an instant, Rowan whips his head around to you both, staring back at him like a pair of deer in headlights. He takes a few menacing steps forward. "There you are," he draws out in between wheezy breaths. His hand comes up, ready to crush her, but before he can use his ability, a large, hulking creature grabs him by the leg, whipping him around and down onto the ground.

You and Wednesday watch in horror as Rowan screams, and the creature rears up on its hind legs, coming down and smashing Rowan with its fists. You can hear the crunching of his bones and then the tearing of flesh as the creature's claws dig into the boy's skin. Wednesday's hand is still in yours, and she squeezes it harshly, small black fingernails digging into the back of your hand, pulling you down to the ground with her and then scooting back.

The attack is short but brutal, and you see bits of Rowan's chest go flying and pure red maw. The creature whips around to you when Rowan goes silent, staring at Wednesday with intensity in its big eyes. Then it scrambles off, tearing through the woods and into the darkness.

As soon as it's gone, Wednesday rushes forward in the leaves, going to Rowan's side. You clamber to your feet, watching the direction the creature went with wide eyes. When you turn back to Wednesday, you catch her shoving something in her pocket. You don't ask what it is, but you make a mental note to ask later.

"Please," she says, a bit panicked. Her fingers are coated in Rowan's blood. "Go get Weems."

===+++===

Another not-too-awful thing about Nevermore was the breakfast. You sat at an abandoned picnic table in the corner of the quad, finishing your eggs, when Wednesday slammed her hands down on the wood with a loud thunk. You jumped in your seat, startled by the noise, dropping your egg back onto your plate.

"What exactly did you see last night?" she demanded, glaring.

Your eyes widened at her tone. It was harsher than normal, and she wore her frustration on her sleeve. A few students at nearby tables sent you suspicious and wary glances. Over Wednesday's shoulder, you could see her roommate, Enid, staring at you.

Most important was Weems, who looked down at you from the balcony above. You composed yourself and looked back down to Wednesday, shrugging nonchalantly, as if to say you didn't know.

Wednesday gritted her teeth harder. "But you do know. We saw Rowan get eviscerated by that creature. You were there. So why did you tell Weems you didn't see anything?!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head at her, doubling down. This was no place to get into it. No place to tell the truth. You slid your notebook towards her.

i saw him this morning.

She huffed, stomping off. You knew exactly why you saw him that morning, actually. Weems had shown you her powers a time or two, and you knew that 'Rowan' was just her in disguise. But you also didn't know if it was something you wanted to share yet. You, too, had been a bit miffed at seeing Weems pretend to be Rowan, but you also knew Weems' powers gave her an advantage, and you were too loyal to take that away from her. You owed her too much.

The question of why still rang in your mind, though. Why was she so eager to cover it up? She had never at least lied to you, so this lie seemed out of left field.

You saw the fake Rowan several times throughout the day. Each time you did your best to let Weems know you knew, and she seemed wary of you, avoiding you at every intersection. You spent the night thinking, wandering around Nevermore, stopping in the library and pulling out several books.

Wednesday had shoved something in her pocket, something that Rowan had. Something about her dooming Nevermore, about being dangerous. You raked through all the books about prophecies, not finding anything of interest and giving up at around one in the morning. No books were missing a piece of paper, and no books mentioned Wednesday's name. You could find a few references to someone named Goody, but she seemed unimportant among the other Addams ancestors, having been dead for hundreds of years. You made another mental bookmark to look more into it, later.

You trudged back to your dorm, already regretting your choices, considering you had an 8 am class in the morning. The school was peaceful again, and as you climbed the stairs, you could hear the trickle of the fountain.

But the moment your shoe placed itself upon the landing, you froze. Your door hung open slightly, just cracked, and right in the way was the same hand you had seen on your first night. You straightened up, feeling more awake, and more annoyed, now.

You pushed your own door open, knocking loudly on the wood like it wasn't your own room, illustrating your frustration. Wednesday turned towards you, unimpressed. She had your journal in her hands, the other one not meant for your communication but for your theories.

It was open to the photo you had just taken, of the claw mark. Right above it you had put the photo of the deaf old man, and right on the photo of the claw mark, you had 'Rowan' written in red sharpie and underlined several times.

You crossed your arms, glowering at her. The hand scuttled towards her, stopping halfway. "So you were hiding something," Wednesday says. "You know that Rowan isn't Rowan. You know he's dead."

You silently swallow, crossing the room until you are right in front of her. Wednesday's eye contact is intense, and you look down at your own notebook, feeling her watching you as you take it from her hands. You can feel her breath fanning against your face, and she smells like pomegranate and fresh petrichor. You turn the page to the drawing you've made of the creature. It's a little off; some of the details are fuzzy regarding last night. But it's the creature as best as you can remember it, and Wednesday nods.

"That's what I saw, too. That's what I want to find," she says. "That's what you're going to help me find."

This time, you can't find it in yourself to refuse.

===+++===

this was the first episode and a bit of episode 2. i really liked doing the mute reader but boy is it hard to write communication without dialogue. it does so much heavy lifting for characterisation. can't wait to see where this one goes, and it'll probably take me two or three parts to get through the whole season, is my hope.

[seat-safety-switch]

No matter who you are, what your station is in life, we all want the same thing. We're all unified by our desire to get pressure washers. Wait, what were you gonna say?

Life is full of things that get rusty and dirty. Engine blocks. The windows of your house. And we've only got so much time on this little blue marble to be cleaning them. That's why some geniuses at NASA or something came up with the pressure washer. It's like your garden hose, but more kick-ass. Pulling the trigger emits this perfect line of high-zoot water, which causes exciting things to happen to whatever you point it at.

Grit just disappears from the sidewalk. Paint disappears from the fender of your truck because you stood too close to it. You can knock out a day full of cleaning in just under an hour, which leaves you with a lot more free time to fix all the stuff you broke by pointing a 300psi needle of water at it. No power comes without consequence, which just makes us desire that power all the more. I'm built different, you tell the shattered husks of your wife's least-favourite lawn ornament. I'm not troubled by trifling concerns such as this when I wield the strength of ten gods.

Now, I've never bought a pressure washer. If you're reading this, you probably haven't, too. They're very expensive, and they take a lot of maintenance, such as not throwing it in the backyard every winter when you're tired of it. Used ones, you ask? A great idea, except the previous owner also threw it in their backyard, and all the o-rings are cacked. You'll spend a year of weekends just swapping them out, if you can even find them, and you'll never trust your crude hayseed repairs to what is generously considered an improvised backyard bomb enough to use it after that.

Luckily for all of us, there is another option. It's called "use it for a weekend and then return it to the store." Maybe it's noisy, or smells funny, or you just ran out of things to wash after you knocked all the vinyl siding off your house and nearly killed the neighbour. If you feel bad, don't. You're creating valuable jobs at the return desk. Chances are you won't even be the first person to have done it with that particular washer, too. Just wipe the blood off first.