A motley of Incorrect Wenclair, with sporadic fan art. Contains some mature humor. ❗️Minors please filter out #adult humor & #inappropriate wenclair.❗️ Demimale • Demi/Aego • Exhausted • Spawned in the 80’s.
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Wednesday: This stalker is both exceedingly stubborn and surprisingly cunning.
Enid: Wednesday.
Wednesday: Their voicemails obviously contain a coded message or threat, which I must deciph—
Enid: Wednesday!
Wednesday: *looks up* Yes? Have you sniffed out a clue?
Enid: Babe, you don’t have a stalker. Those aren’t coded threats.
Wednesday: How could they not be? They’ve been doggedly persistent, leaving countless such messages with no regards for the hour, and as I must point out—
Wednesday: —not a single of my family’s vehicles have been under warranty since the last century, let alone one with an expanded duration. What else could…
Wednesday: 😐
Wednesday: Enid, why are you laughing? We must discover what the stalker means by “extended warranty” before they succeed in reaching me.
Wednesday: 🤨
Wednesday: I understand you must be worried for my safety, but this is no time to be rolling on the floor in hysterics. Enid. ENID.
Wednesday: There is a rumor circulating around campus that you are, in spite of your dating habits, gay.
Enid: Wh-What? I’m not gay! Your face is gay!
Wednesday: Obviously, as it’s part of a greater homosexual whole.
Enid:
Enid: Wait. You like girls?
Wednesday: If by “girls” you mean closeted idiots with all the fashion sense of a Pride parade, the heart of a Disney heroine, and the loathsome habit of saying “oh-em-gee” unironically—
Wednesday: —then the answer is, with little regard for rhyme nor reason, yes.
Enid:
Enid: Wanna get coffee?
Wednesday: Would my younger self, upon seeing the besotted wretch that I’ve become, die in unmitigated shame?
Enid:
Enid: Is that a—
Wednesday: Yes, Enid. My answer is still, and will likely always be, a most lamentable yes.
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Bianca: Wednesday, that’s a claiming mark. Enid claimed you.
Wednesday: *scoffs* Don’t be absurd. The placement was entirely accidental and therefore platonic in nature.
Bianca: *incredulous* You’re seriously telling me that your late blooming roommate who only wolfed out in order to save your life—
Bianca: —who later did it again at the cost of her humanity and risked living out her greatest fear of being alone forever—
Bianca: —the same roommate that you just spent months hunting for in the Canadian wilderness and ended up crossing an entire ocean to find—
Bianca: —after which you dedicated every iota of your time, energy, and resources to solving the previously impossible task of changing her back—
Bianca: —all while personally caring for her every single need like she was the only thing in all of existence that mattered to you…
Bianca: You’re saying THAT roommate bit you deeply enough to leave a permanent scar in a location with significant romantic implications amongst her kind… by ACCIDENT?
Wednesday:
Wednesday:
Wednesday: That is essentially correct.
Bianca: *eye twitch*
Bianca: Right. So what, did Enid just trip and fall mouth-first on your shoulder?
Wednesday: Actually, she slipped, but otherwise yes.
Bianca: And this was all purely platonic.
Wednesday: Obviously.
Bianca:
Bianca: *internal scream*
Bianca: FINE, it was a platonic bite. Whatever you say, you…
Bianca: 🤔
Bianca: Hold up, why were your shoulders bare? You dress like a Victorian widow.
Wednesday: Don’t be absurd. That foolish confession was written in a state of degenerate madness. I deleted it the moment I came to my senses.
Enid: *cheerily skips up* Hey, you two! Guess what?
Thing: *begins to gesture, only to cut off at a glare from Wednesday*
Wednesday: You just had another disappointing “make-out sesh” with that insipid lump of meat you call a boyfriend?
Enid: Wrong! I’ll have you know I just dumped his sweaty jock ass.
Thing: ❗️
Wednesday:
Wednesday: *feigned disinterest* I suppose this is where I’m forced to hear why?
Enid: Bingo. So like, you were kinda right about him being a, and I quote—
Enid: —hormonally overcharged cesspool of toxic masculinity with an IQ lower than his resting heart rate.
Wednesday: *sarcasm* Shocking.
Enid: It’s cool though. The kind of idiot I prefer is the type who doesn’t realize that when you delete a text conversation, it only deletes it from YOUR phone.
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Wednesday: You lost your engagement ring? The irreplaceable Frump family heirloom bestowed unto me by Grandmama in her final moments? You lost THAT engagement ring?
Enid: I said I’m sorry! I can’t find it! The last time I saw it was just before we got into a fight with this stupid douchebag.
Wednesday: The fight you ended by ramming your fist down said douchebag’s throat?
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During a family outing, where Enid and Wednesday watch as Uncle Fester rummages through a dumpster for a snack.
Enid: Does your uncle have a bomb on him? I keep hearing a ticking noise.
Wednesday: That would be his new Rolex.
Enid: *incredulous* What Rolex? The only thing I see on his wrists is a broken handcuff.
Wednesday: It’s in his skull.
Enid: …Excuse me?
Wednesday: He was so impressed by my flawless internal clock that he had the watch installed during his last full frontal.
Enid: 🤨❓
Enid: OH! Full frontal as in lobotomy! For a second there I thought you were talking about nudity.
Wednesday: It was both. Those are not mutually exclusive where my uncle is involved.
Enid: 😧⁉️
Enid: …ew.
Wednesday: In his defense, a cranial invasion is arguably one of the most intimate acts between two people with no credible medical certification.
Enid: ☹️‼️
Enid: Okay, DIFFERENT question. How the heck is your uncle even still alive?
Wednesday: Who would like to know.
Enid: Uh, me? I’d like to know!
Wednesday: No, WHO, as in the World Health Organization. They’ve been working with Interpol to apprehend my uncle for both his numerous international crimes and equally numerous medical anomalies.
Enid:
Wednesday: But to answer your question, he is still alive because he is—
Enid: *eyeroll* —an Addams. My bad, silly question.
Wednesday: *just nods*
Enid: 🤔
Enid: So, um… is his new “internal clock” accurate?
Wednesday: You can ask him yourself. He’s done with his snack.
Enid: 😒
Uncle Fester: *wiping his grimy hands on his stained coat*
Enid: Hey, Uncle Fester, do you have the time?
Uncle Fester: Sure do, toots! It’s exactly pigeon o’clock in the after-coo-ooo-oo-ooo-oo-ooo~
Enid: 😟
Uncle Fester: *continues to blithely coo in pigeon*
If you found me sleeping in your pocket, your next course of action is to let me keep sleeping because it'd be so so so so so mean to interrupt the cute little sleepy princess...
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