#deviaticn

@deviaticn​​ gets a thing. 

AFTER EVERYTHING THAT HAD JUST HAPPENED AT NEVERMORE, of course, Gomez and Morticia were made aware but with very limited information. That feeling of anticipation and worry was plaguing in such a way that neither of them particularly enjoyed in that moment – which was a rarity – but when it came to their daughter’s safety, it was only natural to be concerned. The most important thing, was that Wednesday was alright. But even Morticia could not shake this sudden aching feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach that there was more to what happened. They had attempted to contact Wednesday multiple times through the crystal ball to no avail, which did not help that overwhelming anxiety that caused Morticia to pace. When the call finally came through, Morticia was first to take position in front of the crystal orb, the sight of Wednesday’s face did provide some closure at the very least but there was something about her stoic expression that seemed off. A mother could tell, ❝ darling, what is it? ❞ she asked, taking hold of Gomez’s hand in eager anticipation. ❝ It’s… Principal Weems. ❞ Wednesday concluded simply, almost matter of fact and yet, there was a hinting tone Morticia recognized that said more than enough. For a moment, there was silence, dark eyes staring. She could feel the tension in her face, jaw locking as if in some subtle attempt to stop the involuntary tremble in her cheeks. The hand which held Gomez’s own slipped away and she could feel his eyes on her. A mixed flush of emotions she didn’t quite know how to handle. Death had always been a celebrated part of life within the Addams clan and yet, she wasn’t celebrating now. Coming to a full stance, all she could do was walk away. Even Wednesday could do nothing but look down. Gomez was quick to try and follow his wife, ❝ Tish! ❞ He called out to her with genuine concern. But as Morticia continued to move forward she said a quick, ❝ don’t. ❞ Pausing even in her steps, ❝ just… don’t. ❞ Gomez stopped in his tracks, silent once more before nodding his head. He could hear the slight quiver in her voice even with just those few simple words. She needed to be left alone. So, he returned to make his way back towards the crystal ball in order to check in on his daughter and allow Morticia time to grieve in her own way. The raven-haired beauty sauntering with stern steps out of the room. But she didn’t make it far before she stopped again, breath catching in her throat and the corner of her eyes finally beginning to water. Her lips twitched, hand rising to rest upon the nearest wall before slowly, she slid down onto her knees, eyes still staring forward. That built up emotion gradually sinking in and for only the second time in her life, she could feel her heart breaking.

“Well this is strange isn’t it?”  Trinity put down her suit case on the floor and took off her gloves as she looked back at the fire place.  It wasn’t clear if she was talking to the head of medusa curls on the head master sitting behind the desk until her eyes turned slowly towards the other woman.  The woman who might look older than her but was much much younger.  

“Last time I saw you...I believe you were being scolded right here...”  Her hand ran absently along the velvety back of the chair, just barely touching but the other woman knew.  Trinity knew she remembered from why back when she had needed to Mediate in between herself and the now-elder Adams.  

@deviaticn​​ asked:  ❛ They grow up so fast, don’t they? ❜

❝ THEY REALLY DO, SUCH A CONUNDRUM. ❞ grow up. To be raised well. She doesn't expect Weems to understand the maximum extent of it and yet, she had been caring for the adolescent for many years. To a degree, she knew. Morticia wasn't about to deny her of that. Mask still on ; feigned smile still in place as she glanced at the other woman. A parent and a principal.

@deviaticn sent: ∗ o1﹕ sender  tucks  hair  out  of  receiver’s  face .

WE NEED TOUGH DREAMS, NOT LIES she thinks to herself. Her own words echoing back at her in such a way that leaves her feeling stranded. It's one thing to say them, it's another thing entirely to feel them to their full affect. Even the words written on a single page by Paul Spector haunt her to the point that they become increasingly detrimental and perhaps, it shows in her demeanor. A lot of it stems on the contradictions of what she says and how she's feeling overall. And she knows too that Larissa Weems has her own set of problematic situations that remain daunting. But Stella is impressed, as she's always been with the taller woman; seen as someone to be idolized and respected. A force to be reckoned with. Their history in and of itself always somewhat controversial and secretive, remaining between the two. Enough at the very least to keep Stella poised in place, eyelids nearly fluttering at the subtle touch as hair is tucked behind a single ear. A heavy breath soon to follow through her nose and she tries to compose herself once more. Even then, she can't help but turn her head, single hand rising to meet with that of Larissa's own as lips press against the other's palm ever so tenderly and then letting it cup her face. Welcoming that slight embrace for a moment too long before fingers grip, taking Larissa's hand away but still grasping onto it just the same.