msuwendy

[msuwendy]

she punched me in the face. it was not so great.

msuclaude​:

adjusting the finely crafted top hat sitting atop dark brown locks,  tuxedo mask saunters his way over to a face he’s seen around frequently,  yet never got to converse properly with before.  even now,  with everyone celebrating the festivities,  she sticks out like a sore thumb,  her expression vastly different from the rest.  “hey,  pretty girl.”  he greets @msuwendy,  charismatic grin and all.  gloved hand fixes the white mask framing his eyes,  noting the lack of drink in her hand.  

“don’t you want something to drink?  oooooor do you want to dance?  i’m not the best dancer but hey,  it’s all about the fun.”  standing around all dressed up with nowhere to go doesn’t look like a lot of fun,  and claude has made it his mission to change that.  “my name’s claude,  by the way!  what’s yours?  also that outfit - it looks unique.  did you make it yourself?”

OKAY NOW WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? let it be known that wednesday does not go out of her way to seem approachable. no, half the time her face (mom’s sweet features) does enough of that for her. not that it’s anything that she wants. what she wants is to be able to go through a night without being bothered. in utter solitude. you know. 

but what she wants seldom align with what she actually gets. and wednesday gets it. that’s tough, that’s life. nothing really turns out the way you want it. but also? ALSO? FUCK THAT. AND FUCK THIS. to the absolute stranger approaching for what she can only imagine to be an absolute train wreck of a conversation: WHAT IS YOUR DAMAGE DUDE?

                                                                                                                    — “hey, pretty girl.”

                                       oh you’re kidding. you’re fucking kidding.

“no.” NO? NO!!! ABSOLUTELY NO! “i’m not interested in any of that.” she speaks briskly, lips forming a snarl unnatural for a face like hers. had it not been for the fact that she could spot a professor out of the corner of her eye, she would’ve snapped. though—LUCKY YOU YOU ABRAHAM LINCOLN LOOKING MOTHER FUCKER—wednesday can’t exact risk having her greenhouse privileges revoked right now. “no,” she scoffs, knowing fully well he’s bullshitting now. unique? it’s just black. “i bought it.” she bites her tongue, eyes flicking over his costume briefly. if she doesn’t say anything, would he leave? maybe not. maybe it’s better now to play along till he fucks off.

                                          “and what are you supposed to be?”

#in the face. #msuclaude #msu:mausoleum #idk why shes so mean ;_;

[msuwendy]

msujae​:

not sure there’d be a college anywhere else that’d stick to cream soda on the menu and call it a day, but mokseong seems to have a penchant for firsts of that kind. no alcohol served and prefects as shoe-ins for chaperones? might as well be a mic tap away from being a catholic school dance.

kidding. the setlist makes up for it. chopped and screwed witchhouse shifts to manic, pulsing edm at the flip of a switch, and he almost, almost gets swept up into it when—

“hey.” his phone’s only on vibrate for one, sole reason. 

jae cradles it between the shrug of his shoulder and the shell of his ear. “yeah. yeah. hold on.” the call ends in an instant.

his eyes flit through the purple haze of the room, strobe lights, and every other silhouette in motion, systematic: nope, nope, nope, bingo.

with unmatched ease, he parts through the crowd to make his way towards an unmistakable figure. every scream-kick-insult-chihuahua bark in and out the door over the years has only strengthened his tolerance. so when jae sees wendy “hump day” seon’s eyes thin into slits, he feels absolutely nothing. no fear, no hesitation. only the resolve to do as told.

being prepared means nothing without perfect timing. for now, he’s got both: the phone held up, camera rolling at the exact moment she aims and shoots in a fountain stream, mouth puckered like a fish. 

in the most possibly deadpanned voice ever: “wooow.” 

he stares down at his front then back up at her through the lens. “nice shot, garden hose.” the video’s saved with a tap, slowed by an extra 0.5 for the comedic effect, then sent off. 

to: bruce seon 🤘

[blowfish_wendy.vid] haha she’s having a blast

NAM JAE IS A FUCKING PSYCHO. this is fact. this is law. this is first confirmed around—what? the tender age of 10 and 11. when in a fit of rage (she’s had many many of those growing up) she knocked over his bowl of jjigae all over his lap only for the kid to grin and shrug it off. from then on? a series of childish one-sided retaliation expected from a vicious 10 year old (once or twice, she even bit him). and yet? nothing. absolutely nothing beyond that slasher smile hanging off his face. 24/7.

                                                                                like i said, absolute fucking psycho.

so to say wednesday had expected her one shot “warning” to have any effect on jae would be a lie. in fact, she’s not even the slightest surprised at the camera directed her direction. though, i want to clarify here, surprise =/= irritation. even if she didn’t care how she came off, she knew fully well where the file was heading to. fucking lapdog. 

“shut. up.” she bites out every word, throwing the plastic cup in her hand at him. it bounces uselessly off his hip, lands anticlimactically on the floor and wednesday begins to weigh the pros and cons of hurling her much heavier oxfords at his head. he could dodge but also she did have two chances. but then she’d run the risk of stepping on this floor barefoot—gross.

“are you done being bruce’s errand boy?” wednesday’s snappy, tone sharp and words edged. though she’s sure it’s nothing jae isn’t used to. nothing he can’t brush off. which, frankly, pisses her off even more. “can you fuck off then??” before i KILL you with this shoe??

her eyes narrow to slits when the screen illuminates his face. a flash of light to seal the fate of her mood for the night. a text from a too clingy dad.

from: bruce seon 🤘

oh my god 🥺 she’s so cute tell her she looks SO cute! what is she supposed to be? 🥺

#msujae #save your love. #wendy: foamin at the mouth barking bruce: omg my PRINCESS 🥺

[msuwendy]

i hate it here

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? let me paint you a picture: figure clad in black, wednesday seon stands to be possibly intimidating (despite the doll eyes and sweetheart flush) for once. though, that might be the black butterfly knife she’s flipping around like a psychotic killer on the prowl for the hunt of the night. which, she’s finding now, is just as well as a stay the fuck away from me as a giant set of snares attached to her chest. 

so maybe she should be rethinking this marching band thing in general.

                           whatever. NOT the point. what is the point you ask? 

well, it’s—this. it’s clad in black from head to toe wednesday and this mutt that rammed into her out of nowhere. it’s this mutt being seemingly stuck to her side despite all and any efforts to pull her off. it’s the fact that she knocked the butterfly knife clean out of her hand and onto the floor (or what? you would’ve used it on her? FUCK. MAYBE? GET. IT. OFF!@).

                           really. who the fuck brings a dog to a party anyway? 

well, for starters, it’s not a dog. wednesday knows this well (mind you, she’s not a fucking idiot). can tell by the size and general grabbiness of the furry beast that it’s more or less a child. which, begs an even bigger question: who the FUCK brings a kid to a college party?

“HEY—FOCUS!” she hisses, grabbing a handful of fur(?) and tugging. it’s easy to see she’s already agitated (easier, if you know her and know what she’s about—knows exactly how little it takes to set wednesday off), growing more and more heated by the minute. wednesday feels as if her chest is on fire, as if she’s swallowed a mouthful of pepperup potion and was seconds away from shooting steam out of her ears. as if she’s seconds away from kicking someone’s child into the moon. i mean, fuck, if it was a child that was cared for—it wouldn’t be running around by itself anyway. sticking itself onto perfectly fine strangers minding their own damn business—GODDAMNIT—

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS—” the toseong yanks at the fur with all her might, features contorted into something ugly, veela temper running hot through her veins. whatever it was, it doesn’t seem as if she’s able to separate them. which, only leaves what? what is she to do now? cut this kid out of their costume? actually? tempting.

        “YAH!!! STOP FUCKING LAUGHING—WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR MOM??”

                                                                                                        / @msuxhimari

#i hate it here. #msuxhimari #wendy stop referring to natsuki as 'it' challenge #msu:mausoleum

[msuwendy]

me, 28328 years coming in with wendy’s profile page (here) and a quick plotcall if anyone wants to plot with a mouthy toseong sophomore 👉 👈 just smash that like and i’ll hit you up!!

#ooc. #also just realized i forgot wendy's bday lmSgdgkughuh oops

[msuwendy]

msukevin​:

pumpkin carving

✘ CLOSED STARTER — @msuwendy​

Kevin wasn’t exactly afraid of Wendy, but he’d definitely come to learn to be somewhat cautious around her. That being said, he also isn’t the best learner. To this day, he was still shooting his shot. He was honestly surprised that she’d agreed to go pumpkin carving with him. Although, he couldn’t say that he didn’t suspect alternative motives. He was used to being used for different reasons when it came to girls, but he didn’t mind all that much. They were still giving him the time of day, at least, and feelings could change along the lines. Kevin couldn’t predict the future, but he was still hopeful.

“Wendy, what are you carving? Did you want help? I can clean the pumpkin out for you.”

SO SHE’S A LITTLE OBSESSED. it’s normal, especially with types like her. the kind that obsesses over perfection. that, she thinks, with no small amount of vexation, is also another dad trait. ugh. but nonetheless, she’s fucking here now. take two on pumpkin carving. this time without jaehyun and his stupid cat ears to distract her. though, having kevin in particular accompany her is... well, she’s not too sure if it’s for better or worse.

on one hand, it wasn’t like he much bothered her (which, is always a plus) and even in general, he’s not a bad dude. but on the flip side, kevin resembled so much of a lovesick puppy ready to cling to any outreached hand it made her sick. ultimately never down to hanging out with that sort of people. but at the very core? fine, whatever, he’s not all that bad. 

“i don’t know yet—don’t touch my pumpkin—” her eyes narrow, hissing out a warning. she hadn’t been around kevin often enough, but even he should be aware of her temper. at least, she makes a big enough show of it that most in their year would. “just focus on your own, i’m not a fucking baby—i can do it myself.” she spats the word, finding inherent distaste in the act itself. being treated as a bumbling girl who either didn’t know or wasn’t into doing labor—did she really seem like that type? was it her face that begged being helped? 

her scowl deepens at the thought. better fucking not.

but back to kevin and his round puppy eyes. she sighs, figuring what the fuck if i’m already here—“what are you making huh?”

#pumpkin carving. #msu:mausoleum #msukevin #thanks for starting and im so sorry this was late!!

[msuwendy]

barracuda

GOD SHE HATES THIS. and you might think, why wednesday, you say that about everything! fuck you man, she actually really hates this. what’s not to hate about it? you forgo studying to stay up ALL night tending to your baby (your precious fanged geranium, poor thing, coming down with a cold) and yet you’re repaid with NOTHING (not nothing, per say, more like a fat F on your exam and a request put in for a tutor) but more aggravation. 

and it doesn’t help, like, not in the absolute slightest, that the tutor in question had to be the fucking t.a.

                                                the. mother. fucking. t.a. 

that broody, whole world done me wrong fucker? she can’t stand him. though it’s not if he did anything to her—it’s just a matter of vibes. and as much as she’d like to deny being anything like dad, they are both explicitly against hanging out with complete downers. and—what else? oh, yeah, it’s the stench of menthols off him—exactly the same brand as dad’s. every inhale around him is like a painstaking reminder of that geriatric mental case she ditched in singapore. ugh.

even now, sitting here and thinking about, wednesday can feel her face darkening, picking incessantly at her lips. she stops at the taste of blood, eyes narrowing when she pulls back and sure enough—blood on her fingers. fucking great. and all this her supposed ‘tutor’ is where? smoking break number 2. ass.

she exhales slow, tongue laving over the open cut on her lower lip. there’s no need to lose her cool, supposedly. it wasn’t as if he left her in the dark, more a brisk and chilly fill out the practice quiz i’ll be back. but that was at over ten minutes ago and how fucking long does it take a man to smoke a cig??? wednesday scowls, eyes fixing stubbornly on the sheet once more, going over the answers in her head.

she’ll give it five more minutes, before she heads out to rip him a new one. five more min—her eyes flick up at the entrance just in time, scowl deepening at the sight of him. “yah.” yah? YAH? bite your goddamn tongue. you’re not in the states. “are you here to tutor me or what?” switches easily to english, finding it to be a loophole of sorts, evident with the way her words roll off the tongue, edged with indignation. 

“because i don’t know any damn tutor who takes two smoking breaks out of an hour session.” 

                                                                                                                / @msuelias

#barracuda. #msuelias #literally the bgm as wendy pushes open the door and walks toward his table #n vice versa....

[msuwendy]

save your love

EVERYTHING HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE. namely, for wednesday, whose good graces had only been prolonged by a substantial amount of sweets and booze, was starting to wear thin as hours past (and the dj switched sets to something more beat heavy, so much so it reverberates from vertebrae to vertebrae, shaking up her insides and leaving her, somewhat unsettled, teetering antsy). now, now she’s thinking of turning in—before something rolls along to shit on the one good night she’s had in a hot minute.

                                       which, mind you, something always does.

                                                                                  AND?! right on cue! her phone rings. 

fucking perfect. her eyes squint at the caller id: 😑dad😑 and scowls. of course. somehow he is always calling at the most inopportune moments. and somewhat predictable of her, she doesn’t bother to pick up, simply chugging the rest of the drink her hand—minus one last gulp for future use. 

                                                 future use? yeah, just watch.

it takes a couple more calls, all screened, before she can pick out a foreboding figure approaching from the crowd, phone pressed to his ear and nonchalance on sharp features. instantaneously is the prickle of irritation, tiny hairs on the back of her neck bristling at the mere sight alone. wednesday is fully aware of what to expect here. it’s routine. written into code. so is the fated interactions between wednesday seon and dad’s favorite lapdog. the same as when they were kids and ultimately, the same now. so forth and so on. 

only this stupid mother fucker happens to get more and more good looking every year. stupid lame-freddie-mercury-costume ass fucker. her eyes narrow further when he was closer into view, hand lifting to fill her mouth with leftover beer. stupid hooked nose looking jackass. three steps away. stupid! two steps. don’t you dare come closer. one.

here, her lips pucker, shooting out a jet of liquid that lands square on his white shirt. about as good of a warning shot as anything. (also, immature as fuck, she knows, whatever!) but wednesday has a feeling he doesn’t give a fuck either. 

                                              “i DON’T want to fucking hear it.” 

                                                                                                            / @msujae 

#msujae #save your love. #msu:mausoleum

[msuwendy]

#inspo.

[msuwendy]

745STICKY 

THIS IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE. how? where? when? why? the details are blurry. everything is so damn blurry after the 6th cup. if anything, wednesday recalls leaving the dungeons, recalls walking aimlessly with her eyes glued to the phone (yeah, gen z problems, we know) before ending up here—here? 

where is here? haha. ha—fucking—ha! well, that’s the funny thing, you see. because why wouldn’t she be here? why wouldn’t she subconsciously walk herself into her own living nightmare? why wouldn’t the stars have aligned so that wednesday seon is destined to spend the tail end of today in hell? 

                    and i know, readers. you might think—hell? this is a mirror maze.

so, for the new readers, a quick recap (feat. inner voice of our protagonist): HELL IS SEEING YOUR MOM EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK. IT’S THE FACT THAT SHE LIVES! LITERALLY! ON YOUR FACE!! THAT’S HELL! LOOKING IN THE MIRROR EVERY DAY AND SEEING THE WOMAN WHO DESERTED YOU IS HELL. 

                                                                  GET IT?

                                                 got it? okay! back to our story. 

you are so fucking stupid. wednesday inhales through clenched teeth, glancing back to find, of course, yet another mirror. this one distorted, head blown and body long and limber. not a good look either. “good going,” she grumbles, tugging at her braids in vexation. there’s nowhere to go but forward. sadly. unfortunately. stupidly so. and she does, for the most part, walks (stomps) down the path with her head down and eyes glued on her creepers. admittedly, not the best idea when in a maze, but wednesday figures for her own personal sanity—let’s be clear, it isn’t triggering to be here as much as it is grating on her nerves. as much as it makes her heart burn—it’s better to not. 

but that too, begs for trouble. especially when her foot hits a supposed dead end—and sticks—and, mother fucker i forgot, she’s a few bad choice steps later from being in yet another predicament. 

but at least there’s this: mom’s face (that’s your face too, wednesday) looks stupid ugly when upside down. almost tolerable. though, for all the candy and booze sloshing in her stomach, not so much. but, hey, if she were to think of this optimistically—that’s one problem solved! now, the only issue is how to get down—or even manage to walk all the way to the exit like this. wednesday spares a glance to the ground, drawing focus to the damned wand that had slipped out of her purse on the way up. the way it lies now, completely out of reach. while she stands hangs here, dress upturned and braids swinging like a kind of gothic bat. 

she takes a breath, willing herself not to scream. 

FOR. FUCK’S.  SAKE—

                                                                      ...oh?

but luckily, LUCKILY a savior this way comes. SAVIOR? OR VICTIM? we’ll see. wednesday, in her glorious tipsy stupor (but i guarantee you it’d be the same sober or otherwise), thinks little of repercussions before reaching out, grabbing herself a handful of hair just as they walk past. 

                                                             “hey. help me.”

                                                                                                    / @msusol: u pick who

#msusol #msue:halloween #msu:mausoleum #745sticky. #why she just grabbing bitches by the hair

[msuwendy]

msukangdae​:

kangdae never knew why people thought wednesday hard to hang around with. yes she had a bit of a harsh way of speaking, but he knew she was a nice person underneath the rough exterior. he knew that for a fact because she was always willing to help him when he would get injured during quidditch practice, and if she wasn’t a nice person why would she give her time to him. so kangdae tended to ignore the venomous tone that often left the younger woman’s tongue.

instead, he clicks his tongue and wiggles his finger teasingly at her “ wednesday-yah, don’t you know? you should’t call people idiots, lemme explain why as someone who’s older than you, it’s hurtful, and i know you’re joking because we’re so close, but other people may get hurt by it okay?”

“oh, my bad! i just saw the braids and thought the wizard of oz,” kangdae laughs, unashamed as always, never embarrassed for admitting to not knowing something.

“ wednesday addams?” he repeated the name, the letters foreign on his tongue. ,”  no, i don’t really keep up with most western stuff, that’s really cool though, were you named after her?” he questions, eyes wide with curiosity, “ it’s a cute costume though, the dress looks good on you.” his words at ease now, flattery coming easier than anything else to him.

kangdae shakes his head, sarcasm doesn’t come easily to him, always blunt, never expecting a hidden meaning to most things, “ no! but i saw this girl dressed like one, “ he turns his head back, trying to see if the person was still there, “ okay she’s gone now, but! but! i’m superman yknow, from the DC movies? look ain’t my cape cool?” the pride is evident as he holds up the red material.

there’s a line forming behind them, as kangdae belatedly realizes they’re in front of the maze, oh, “ wednesday! come on, we should start going in before people get mad!” he explains, quickly interlacing their fingers and starting to step towards the entrance of the maze. “ i heard it’s like super intense, but i think we should be able to handle it right?

SHIN KANGDAE IS...DIFFICULT. not sure how to further expand on that, but to paint a picture: it’s like working the graveyard shift in retail with a playlist cursed to loop pharrell’s happy and something else vaguely grating on a happy beat. and before her is this egregiously dense mountain of a man with puppy dog eyes that can’t and won’t take a hint. 

              seriously, she’s like dropping hints that she doesn’t want him around.                      one time by actually telling him she doesn’t want him around.

but kangdae’s degree of thickheaded is severe—and wednesday supposes she can’t outright tell him off for doing nothing. he is, at his infuriating buoyant core, a good guy. and she has no reason to refute him otherwise. still, she wonders how she comes off to him—if it’s so much as a taking pity on an impudent child who’ve shut the world out as it feels like it is to her. whatever.

"you’re only one year older.” don’t patronize me mother fucker. words better conveyed through a scowl than anything. “but yeah, okay, fine, whatever.” she quickly tacks on, just in case this turns into a full out lecture (that’ll really harsh her vibe). 

“uh huh,” somehow, coming from someone like kangdae—she’s not surprised he wouldn’t know. “no—” though, valid, she’s heard that stupid fucking joke tons of times. “i was named after—” her mouth pulls into a thin line, eyes dulling momentarily. she remembers having this conversation with mom awhile back, but also—fuck her. “never mind what i was named after.” wednesday quickly dismisses, brow raising at the compliment but saying nothing of it. she’ll blame it on the night, the atmosphere, maybe the leotard is squeezing the blood out of his brain, whatever the fuck. he knows she hates that kind of thing.

“superman.” yes, i know who the fuck superman is! do i look like an idiot!? well. that’s kinda on you for assuming kangdae understands any sort of derision. “nice.” wednesday commentates dully, watching him hold up his cape like a child showing off. “it does fit you, i guess, all perky good guy and symbol of light or hope or whatever the saying goes." about as fitting as wednesday addams, brat queen of the dark and unfeeling fits her.

         well, sort of. this wednesday can’t be unfeeling no matter how hard she tries.

“going in?” ah, the first quizzical look of the night. “where—” she barely catches sight of the sign overhead before kangdae is walking them in. oh, the maze. well—it wasn’t like she had anything else planned. but wednesday has never done anything in the interest of being easy. “yeah, but—don’t you have friends to go to these things with you?” her eyes lower to their hands, nose scrunching in slight disdain as she shakes his grip free. not so much against him as it is against the implication hand holding gives. 

“or unsuspecting wide eyed girls who’d cling and whine the whole way through thinking it’s cute—” BOO! she jumps at the sudden appearance of a passing ‘ghoul’, hand gripping onto the fabric of kangdae’s cape. there’s a brief flicker of surprise that passes wide eyes before dissolving into something less than impressed. teetering on vexation. partly at herself for being predicable but mostly at this whole insufferable setup. goddamn jump scares. 

                                                    “i fucking hate it here.”

#an a-maze-ing night. #msukangdae #msue:halloween #msu:mausoleum #unclear as to why this got so long

[msuwendy]

hold me closer, make me care

#tracks. #unrelated(ish) but i LOVE this song

[msuwendy]

U MAKE ME SO SICK

IT’S STUFFY. god, she hates stuffy. no, she hates parties. yeah, fuck parties. what’s the point? you get drunk, dance, and hookup. then you wake up, sober you is shamed by drunk you, and you make the walk of shame back. what is the point in that? no, it’s to each their own obviously but, in what world does she look like the type to be into that? 

                                                   never! ever!! never ever ever!!!

and yet—god, good going wednesday—possibly second instance tonight of acting hilariously out of character, here she is. back against the wall, red plastic cup in hand, doing absolutely nothing but watch moving bodies bump to an admittedly sick halloween playlist. honestly, dj? good fucking job. 

but suppose it’s fine. suppose it’s night’s still young. suppose it’s not the three cups from the keg that’s putting her in a semi-agreeable mood. semi-agreeable, meaning pleasant enough to stay put—but not so far gone that she’d go out of her away to dance with anybody. again, might i remind you ladies and gentlemen, she was simply not the type.

doesn’t mean it’ll stop people from trying, however. actually. ACTUALLY!—and this is also an uncharacteristically funny—here comes one now. 

“what.” wednesday is growling before the older toseong even opens her mouth. always two seconds away from barking—this pitiful feral thing. it doesn’t help that it’s taeyeon. that their last few encounters had been less than friendly. that she’s successfully weaseled under her skin and sunk her teeth in like some demon mosquito from the foulest pits of hell.

      “the fuck are you even wearing? you look like a salazar slytherin’s court jester.”

                                                                                                                / @msutaeyeon

#wendy makes it so hard to be waxing poetic in anything i hate this sm #msutaeyeon #u make me so sick. #msu:mausoleum #msue:halloween

[msuwendy]

monday addams ;

msuxander·:

there’s a rumor that the apple peels in the bobbing activity are charmed to spell out a soulmate’s first initial. of course, xander doesn’t believe in stupid ideas like soulmates nor does the thought spark any type of interest or curiosity in him. however, he finds it amusing to watch the participants take part in the event only to see the hope in their eyes die when they realize it’s not a letter they want.

there are the few singles who get to walk away with false hope of ever finding a soulmate to match the initial they get… and then there are the ones who are even more ridiculous, attempting the challenge more than once only to get multiple different initials. it’s truly pathetic but seems to do the job in filling the holes in their desperate hearts.

xander’s interest is finally piqued enough for him to make a move when his eyes set on wednesday seon. of all people, he would never have expected her to attempt the challenge yet there she is with a blood red apple in her hand. he’s by her side in a heartbeat, and just in time to see the peels in the water forming into the shape of a W. But as it floats around in the water, it turns upside down into an M and xander can’t help but chuckle out loud and finally making his presence known.

“m for monday. how fitting for someone named wednesday.” xander comments as he looks down at her smugly. “shame for the poor bloke who has w for wednesday though.”

WHAT THE FUCK IS A SOULMATE? okay, no—she knows what a soulmate is (she’s not daft, readers!). textbook definition anyway. but knowing how a word is defined and read in a giant book filled with other words of little meaning matters extremely little when, in practice, wednesday doesn’t believe it in the slightest. but, okay, fuck, bear with me here—how are you supposed to believe that there is somebody out there for everyone when human beings, fickle and selfish motherfuckers that they are, can never be sated by just one thing?

your soul can’t have solely one mate when you are constantly (and i mean constantly) evolving. changing. wanting this instead of that. getting bored of that and interested in this. 

it’s just—impossible. 

                                                                         so.

                                                     why the fuck are you here? 

good question. good fucking question. wednesday stares down at the ruby red apple in her hands, freshly plucked (she was not bopping for that) and firm in her grasp. for reasons unbeknownst to her (haha. be real. you know. all that soulmates aren’t real bull and you’re still here, apple of discord in hand, glimmer of hope and prayer—you don’t want to be fucked up like dad but you don’t want to be alone either do you?), she’s here—teeth raking down the skin of the fruit to spit back into the basin. classy. 

then, it’s a matter of waiting. or well, talking herself into staying. because it was stupid then when she approached the area and it’s fucking stupid now standing here waiting for a vague answer from the universe. which, by the way, is probably fucking charmed. 

                                                 damn, should’ve thought of that.            

but she’s approached before she even makes a move to leave (eyes rolling deep into the back of her head—really, a w?), attention turning quick to the brooding man beside her. great. fucking great. then—he opens his great big mouth. 

                                                         and, you know what?                                                      she just couldn’t help herself.

                      “M fOr mONdAy, hOw FiTtiNg foR sOmEoNE naMeD WeDnesdAy." 

okay, she’ll admit it. she’s not great. not even, you know, kinda sorta okay. in fact, if wednesday had to chose, she would’ve preferred to stick somewhere in the lower-middle category. the not ALL bad but also not good category. because why else would she be out here? mocking the elderly. well, not HER fault. as it seems, the douchier they are, the more childish she gets. xander, especially, has her returning to schoolyard tendencies. 

"you sound like an idiot.” she quickly dismisses the faint sound of kangdae’s nagging in her head. “what are you doing out here troubling yourself with results of my peel?” speaking of, stupid fucking peel, wednesday whips her wand out quickly, incinerating the peel with a flick of her wrist. question asked and answered, there was no need to stare at it. 

            “don’t you have something better to do? or what—don’t tell me!—no friends?

#monday addams. #msuxander #sincerely.... i apologize #msu:mausoleum #msue:halloween

[msuwendy]

#vis.

[msuwendy]

#inspo.

[msuwendy]

meow

msujaehyun​:

carving pumpkins isn’t new to him. it’s a fun activity he had done more than once. although it takes up a lot more energy than it’s worth it, bell considers it a pretty fun activity to do. he’d prefer carving pumpkins compared to birthday cakes at times, mostly because the pumpkins can serve as decorations and birthday cakes are usually a waste of money.

staring at the pumpkin before him, still safe from any of bell’s carvings, he lets out a hum. “thinking of making a cat,” he tells ( @msuwendy ), already expecting the type of reaction he’d get from her. he picks up a knife, twirling it with his fingers as he tries to picture exactly how he wants it to be. “maybe i’ll charm it black, so it’ll look more identical to my cats.”

he takes a side glance at his friend, trying to see what the other is up to. “what about you? any ideas so far?” he believes wendy is a rather creative person, she’s capable of coming up with something interesting. her costume—that’s a different story. not bad, however, “you know, i think your costume is missing a little something.”

MAN IS HE FUCKING LUCKY. there’s no better way for wednesday to put it. lee jaehyun is just damn lucky that his birthday so happens to collide with her favorite holiday. putting the toseong in just good enough of a mood to consider, you know, being slightly more ~saintly~ for the sake of his birth. slightly, being the keyword here.

though, so far so good, it isn’t like anything out of the ordinary has happened so far to warrant any kind of reaction. carving pumpkins is about as tame as it can get around here. which, given jaehyun’s not-so-subtle proclivity for all things that meow in the dark, she’ll take what she can get. 

but if she’s honest, well into their 10th? year of knowing each other, she’s kind of used to this furry shit. don’t tell him though. 

“oh wow,” she purposefully drawls, eyes rolling back. “a cat. that’s new and original of you.” but at least jaehyun has an idea. wednesday, on the other hand, is preoccupied with eyeing the surface space of her pumpkin, fingers wrapped around the serrated knife and idly dragging it against the wooden edge of the table. back and forth, till the teeth chips away at the wood.

“i dunno yet—maybe something scary,” wednesday muses, tapping the knife against the edge. “like i could do the grim, but i’m not going to carve a fucking dog—” her eyes cut to him, expressive with the way they widen threateningly. you know why, you damn furry. “faces are cliche though—augh!” she pulls the knife back, plunging it into the pumpkin without so much of a hesitation. might as well make the first cut and see where things go from there.

“what about my costume?” her eyes narrow, lip curling in pre-indignation. “some of us don’t like to waste time on stupid fucking costumes, you dweeb.” wednesday yanks the serrated knife out of the pumpkin, swinging it just past jaehyun’s head recklessly to clank twice against the sword on his back for emphasis. 

                                “and i don’t remember asking your opinion, thanks.”

#meow. #msujaehyun

[msuwendy]

an a-maze-ing night

msukangdae​:

a halloween thread @msuwendy​

location:  outside the haunted house

KANGDAE was giddy. he went all out. his costume choice may have been a bit childish, but he was proud of it! he had charm the cape so it was always floating behind him, how cool was that!he was eager to show it off, so he had planned to hit up all the events the school had to offer. he had made his way to the school gym when he saw that it had been transformed into a haunted house, whoa. that’s crazy. 

the quidditch player scanned the crowd, hoping to find a familiar face to drag in with him, thankful for his height, he spotted wednesday in a black dress and her hair in braids. what costume is that? it didn’t ring any bells at all.

“ wednesday!” he called out, as he sped up to the girl, “ what are you supposed to be? like dorothy from the wizard of oz or something?”

SHE HATES THIS CONSIDERABLY LESS. halloween is bearable. tolerable. and in some cases, between a goblet of butterbeer and a handful of ice mice, almost enjoyable. but that’s typical. the likes of her liking halloween as a holiday altogether is almost stereotypical. what kind of girl did she seem like otherwise? the kind that yearns day and night for valentine’s? yeah fucking right. 

still, genuine interest seldom transfers into effort due. and her “costume” was hastily put together, mainly consisting of pieces wednesday had in her closet to begin with. everything else, such as the nasty attitude and a penchant for chaos, simply came with. but, not the braids, at least not to begin with. she had braided them earlier, then promptly twisted them into twin buns after deciding it looked too much. 

shitty job, seeing as by the time she arrive they’ve pretty much unraveled themselves and returned to prior position on either shoulders. whatever. it’s simply too much of a hassle to even reattempt—she’s never had much of a knack in tying hair anyway.

“no, idiot—” her tongue is sharp, tone harsh before she even fully recognizes the voice (only registering the spike of annoyance at being called dorothy). she blanches slightly at the sight of kangdae, only the teeny tiniest bit regretful of her tongue—he was older, after all—but decidedly doesn’t dwell on the topic (here’s to hoping he’ll let it go), nails digging into the soft of her palm. 

                    “i’m wednesday addams, you know??? from the addams family???”

wednesday pauses to look over the empty expression on his face. oh nevermind. “and what are you supposed to be?” her eyes flick over his costume, noting everything from the superman shield on his chest to the floating cape behind him. pretty fucking obvious. but she wasn’t feeling particularly generous. 

                                   “what’s up with the leotard? are you a ballerina?”

                                                                                                                      and he started it.                                                                                                     fucking dorothy. christ.

#msukangdae #msu:mausoleum #msue:halloween