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#rose hair tarantula
earthmegarah · 5 months
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Fishnets and oona
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bugtistic · 7 months
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I also got to gently pet this Tarantula at the bug museum today! She wasn’t allowed to be held because some Monster dropped her in the past :( but she is beautiful !
(Grammostola rosea, Female)
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feralfennecfox · 4 months
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I love women with leg hair
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bayottb · 1 year
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Uzumaki female Grammostola porteri (G. porteri) (common rose hair) 10 years old *my spider
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kas-e · 29 days
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Grammostola rosea (Chilean Rose)
This is Lucifer, the most beautiful male Rose hair tarantula I've ever seen in my life. I was lucky enough to own this guy. This species is very common in the pet trade, arguably the most common, but to come across a male with this coloration is extremely rare.
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Some pictures of my pet spider, Fang. He’s a Chilean Rose-hair Tarantula.
Some people (*cough* Carlos *cough*) think tarantulas and other spiders are scary, but I love them!
— Ralphie
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insectomoe · 7 months
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Uh, thirsty I see
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losthedge · 7 months
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got paranoid cant sleep, coping with tarantuals
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yelkmelk · 7 months
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Gonna bug-post for a second here
I love my darling girl so much. Look
Chi-Chi, my beloved
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Favorite place for lurkin'
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Ya know, just hanging around. Darling, what are you doing?
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The cutest girlie at the photo studio.
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Chomp because the bottlecap wasn't moving fast enough for her liking (not aggression, she just needed the leverage) The hole needed dug at the speed of NOW
WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE. DAMN. BABIE. YOU DESERVE THE WORLD YOU FUNKY LIL BEASTIE
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bug-gender-art · 1 year
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so a while ago @prokopetz made a post mentioning a spider girl dating sim so i took that and ran. explanations under the cut
aster: spiny orb weaver, genus gasteracantha. they spin their webs with a thick zigzag going down the middle so that birds can see it and won’t fly through. they just look punk
aster: spiny orb weaver, genus gasteracantha. they spin their webs with a thick zigzag going down the middle so that birds can see it and won’t fly through. they just look punk
calliope: golden orb weaver, Trichonephila calvipes. i used the ‘cal’ in calvipes, it’s more of a stretch than the others. this is my favorite spider, the females are huge and docile and spin their webs with yellow silk! the males look like tiny chili peppers (represented by her earrings)
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sysig · 2 years
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I really had the thought today “Wow I wish I had a poseable spider doll” rather than just
y’know
a spider
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earthmegarah · 2 years
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Oona 🕷
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luminousespeon · 2 years
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hello i think witnessing a tarantula migration would be my worst nightmare so i need you to describe it for me. do they come in waves ? or just 'more individuals than usual passing through'? are you AT the tarantula fuck location? or just a key destination on the route?
thankyou in advance.
A quick thing before this, all of this is going off of what I’ve experienced or found online, I’m not the most informed on tarantulas. So sorry if anything’s wrong or a bit off. But I did look up everything mentioned here to make sure I was right, so if anything is wrong after the almost 20 or so sites I looked at then I will be very surprised.
I’ve personally never seen them in groups, but they definitely do travel in them! Apparently they’re pretty large as well, which is neat! Not so neat if they decide to go on roads though. Every time I’ve seen them it was right towards the beginning so I’ve only seen a couple of them at a time, and it was almost always in my yard, near it, or at the nearby park. Wouldn’t be surprised if they’re are tarantulas actually living there, the park is mostly grass.
They’re to busy trying to find a female to even bother with you, I was on a swing once and one just went right under me and kept on going, didn’t even stop. So long as you respect them they won’t do anything, and even then bites are rare and unless you have a bad reaction the hair they fling is just very annoying and itchy. I’ve only ever had one threaten me and he didn’t even try do anything beyond that, though to be fair I did back off rather quickly.
So, they’re definitely something you want to look at from a distance, and so long as you do that it honestly sounds like it would be cool to see a large group of them!
Hope this helped at least a little bit! Sorry if this was all over the place, it’s pretty late where I’m at, if it is I’ll fix that when I wake up.
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n-e-c-r-0 · 2 years
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Min edderkopp :)
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zzzzombroccoli · 2 years
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I’d like to pay my respects to Grandma Incie, my grumpy chilly rose.
If you don’t like spiders, I’m sorry, but she’s been in my life for 23 years, and lived to be around 30 (when we got her she was at least 7). 
The unlikely apple of my eye, the fuzzy life sucker. She’s now buried in a velvet lined wooden box that looks like a coffin. She’s bougie like that.
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vorsdany · 5 days
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ᴛᴡɪꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ
Wednesday Addams x magic!reader
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Words : 6.2k+
Summary : Wednesday navigates through her not-feelings, you murdered, she swooned, this does not sound like a summary.
Warning(s) : Blood, mentions of torture, death, bad writing..
A/N : inspired by faouzia's fur elise. Listen!
ווו×
Your feet hurt. It was what kept you grounded –  reveling in the pain that shoots up to the base of your spine, the callouses that were starting to build up on your toes, the rush of blood flowing through your vessels and preventing the muscles from dying out of exhaustion.
Scrapes the floor was making against the soles of your feet were one of the things reminding you of the present, what was real, and what was mere false souls clawing away at your sanity. It was the melodies, played with such divine precision that fell and rose with each stroke from the cello, and oddly enough; the pair of eyes scrutinizing your moves, every twists and jumps you made.
You would only stop when she did – if she ever did.
Beads of sweat collected beneath your hairline, leaving strands of fallen hair sticking to your cheeks. The rush of air as you spun was not enough to dry them, only increasing the counts of breaths you were taking in one short verse. It was refreshing in a way basking under the sun would do – here, now, it was the subtle smile pulling on her lips that carved away your focus.
You had no special talent; to unruly eyes, all you do was dance and blabber obnoxiously in her ears any chance you get, Wednesday had started developing a newfound fondness deafness when the first wave of sound you’d made entered her eardrums. She had thought it a privilege to be the only person allowed to hear your voice, though she was starting to regret it now.
Whilst your toes were close to falling off – the statement was not exaggerated, as Wednesday knew the acts of dancing herself even if not with such elegance and poise – she could feel the skin on the tips of her fingers peeling off, rubbed raw by the constant pressure on the strings for a long period of time. It had only been.. what – three, four short hours? It felt like she was only getting started, and you did, too.
It might had only been for the arts itself performed by the subject of interest, in this case; you. Perhaps she should’ve invited you to the dance, and she would’ve, had Tyler not been her first priority at the moment.
There was something in you that she had to beware of, an unknown comfort that sent her mind swimming, her lungs failing to bring oxygen to her heart. The seer felt anything but comfortable with the feelings she was apparently experiencing, according to her roommate. Hard feelings, maybe. Affection, she would rather eat her dead tarantula than admit she held any rooms in her undead heart for you – the fact that she’d broken a werewolf's nose for snickering at you proved nothing.
Wednesday had lost herself – usually, it wouldn’t stop her muscle memory from taking over, yet the silence enveloping the room was daunting, the musical hum of the cello replaced by the beating of her heart and the puffs of breaths as you settled your eyes at her flawless form behind the giant instrument.
“Alright?” Breathless, you made only the effort to sit on the floor, limbs moving heavily as Wednesday made herself busy. Doing what, one might wonder – you showed no signs of confusion nor care of what she was up to, however, as the cold floor became a comforting companion. After a short minute, the ravenette appeared before you, making herself at home by your side and taking out some supplies from her kit – none other, the Wednesday Addams was taking care of you; rubbing ointments on your feet, applying wrappings as a professional would do – you’d expected nothing less from the Addams.
Her lips pursed in concentration as your breath hitched, shivers crawling along your skin from her feather-light touch, hoping Wednesday had no problem ridding the blood coating her dorm floors.
You leaned on your elbows, hands signing messily, “Eugene is checking out the cave. You’re leaving him, then?” She paused, putting away her kits before taking her time to lay beside you on the floor, palms resting on her stomach. Time seemed to slow after these sessions, exhaustion creeping up your bodies – it had never bothered you, to fall asleep on her floor, freezing and in pain yet succumbing to slumber without a care, knowing not one soul would cross within 10 feet from where you were.
The girl seemed to be arranging her thoughts, something unusual given her quick wits when it came to her goals. Had she come to care for the boy? Even that was too much of a suggestion.
Poking her with a finger, only then did she turn her head towards you, dark eyes gleaming and still, a worry line visible on her eyebrows. “I’ll accompany him. You can attend the dance without problem.” Wednesday hesitated for a moment, the only second she’d allow herself before opting for her investigation over you.
“You should keep Tyler in check while you’re at it.” You sighed when she rolled her eyes, annoyance radiating off of her in waves and you quirked an eyebrow – watching her sulk, head turned away. Wednesday Addams was pouting, arms crossed and huffing in distaste, a contrary to her usual deadly threats whenever faced with a disagreement.
“I’m not his keeper.” A chuckle rumbled from your chest, finding the predicament quite amusing while the Addams felt the opposite. You poked at her shoulder – again, Wednesday classified it as your favourite way of getting her attention – turning to lie on your side and recoiled only when she shot you a glare.
“Just keep an eye on him, will you?”
When no refusal was uttered, you took it as a win. You’d shown disproval on the guy ever since Wednesday ran into him months ago, the way he always looked like a kicked puppy rubbed on your instincts in all the wrong places.
“I don’t want to collect Eugene's dead pieces.”
From the side, her eyes seemed to be glazed over, a sign she hadn’t blinked in a long time – usually, she was either focused, angry or determined to prove a point, though not this time. Not that you were aware.
“You wouldn’t let it go that far,” Wednesday gritted her teeth, answering your endless inquiries for the first time that night. “Otherwise, it’ll be on you.”
“Not if you lose sight of him.” Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you were left hanging when Wednesday showed no signs of moving, though you could see her jaw locking – the telltale of her irritation. For a dark and mysterious outcast, she was sure easy to read for you. The Addams had no inkling as to why you were so suspicious, or why and how she’d decided to indulge your skepticism.
She huffed. You hummed with a satisfied grin stretching across your lips.
וו×
“Have you ever seen someone jump that high?” You questioned Wednesday, pointing at the high branches of the tree you were sitting under, causing Wednesday to halt her reading, eyes landing on your gestures. Unlike some, the distraction didn't bring any sorts of irritation in her bones, the question itself, however, lacked certain intelligence.
Of course, Wednesday had climbed higher than this dwarf tree you were referring to, but you shook your head before she could utter a word, as if you’d read her mind somehow and couldn’t wait to rebut whatever thoughts she had. “Not climb. Jump.” Wednesday narrowed her eyes as your eyebrows shot up in excitement, ecstatic at the notion of jumping for fun, or in Enid's words, shit and giggles. Wednesday failed to understand the relevance of her slangs.
The ravenette also found herself wondering just how she’d became so acquainted with a person this simple-minded, even more so than Enid Sinclair who, in her definition, was the sheer representation of a puppy. You used to be quiet, anxious to even meet anyone’s eyes before you bumped into Wednesday, seemingly the only sane – or insane – student who understood sign language; which, in your mind, meant she was immediately your choice of friend.
She must admit, your company was easier to tolerate than most, and each interaction left Wednesday’s soul tingling, like the feeling after sitting in the electric chair for too long. Perhaps it was your hidden powers tinkering with her brain, playing her as if she was yours to command – though many would disagree on that, since it always was the other way around; you bidding her wishes, you sticking to her side on dangerous scouts, you jumping as high as the tree near the lake because Wednesday just had that idea of entertainment.
If it was anybody’s guess, you were forced to put up with her horrendous personality to keep your head attached to your body, but if those anybody were making use of their vision, they would soon realize that you were more amused by this play than Wednesday herself.
A crowd had started to gather, some of them taking a step back at the glare Wednesday was sporting, some too curious to care for their lives. “Hey, dumbass! Did you lose your brain somewhere?”
It seemed the shout managed to pull on your nerves; leaving you on a standstill, your body frozen with your arm stretched upwards and rage almost engulfing you for the ridiculing stares, face turning a dark shade of red some might mistake for embarrassment. Perhaps doing this in an open place might’ve been the wrong call, though it was up to their interpretation and your way of showing them just how much you’d been holding back.
One thing they never knew; your temper was just as bad as the ideas popping in your head every several hours. Wednesday clicked her tongue, stomping her foot towards you and snatching your wrist, bringing it to her mouth and biting into the skin. Great minds really do think alike, then.
You hissed, heart beating against your ribs at the rush of endorphins from the sight, something in your chest set alight as the last thread of patience snapped. Several gasps could be heard from the collecting audience as blood trickled out from the wound – it was no ordinary one. Your fingers bunched up into a fist, struggling against Wednesday’s hold but she held steady, “Jump.” It was only loud enough for you to hear, your lungs constricting with the pressure it was taking you to not leapt away.
The crimson thickened, liquid solidified into a thin cord – you glanced upwards, mentally counting the heights for the length of wire you’d need. Your mouth opened to form the syllables, afraid no more to use them despite the crowd.
“How high?”
ו×
Nevermore learned of a new outcast then; they called you a blood bender, though you refused to regard yourself as such – for it was only your own blood you could control. Plus, you’d stressed multiple times to the principal and classmates, “What am I, an avatar?” in which most of them never caught the barest glimpse of, if not for Wednesday translating them with a deadpanned face.
“It is a matter of choice,” Wednesday begged to differ, as if ashamed by your unwillingness toward torture by blood drainage. You nodded along still, despite your hands signing hastily with feign offense, “That’s barbaric, Wednesday.”
She remained unbothered, talking back about how you were too soft whilst striding away to her dorms, leaving you scurrying after her brisk pace.
ווו×
Wednesday stomped her foot to the dance floor, inevitably sending glares to each corner of the ballroom no one dared to turn her way. Well, one except her date – what an abominable notion that made bile rose from her stomach – she had to swallow down the urge to throw up the chocolate cupcake you’d shoved her way before leaving for the forest. It wouldn’t be an awful sight to see his white suit tainted, though she must admit it’d look better splattered with blood rather than vomit.
She had began to lose her temper, regret coating her soul for even considering this stupid dance. Why was she stuck with a love-struck puppy whilst you get to venture out into the wilderness, death looming over your shoulder? So, when chaos unfolded right before her eyes just as she set her plans to lit the place on fire, one couldn’t blame the skip in her heart; though she was positively blaming you for the vision flashing behind her eyelids after colliding with someone and dammit – she’d lost sight of the boy. (If Wednesday could cheer, she’d be raising her hands in the air for losing a human-sized hindrance.)
A low hum reverberating across the forest sent her skidding to a stop, the ground shaking slightly with the tension such sound carried. The cave was already set on fire when Wednesday caught sight of it, rising more questions than ceasing the uneasiness building in her chest. The hum turned into a ring, a kind that made her eyes roll to the back of her head and drained her insides of blood. Thank the devils – the sound wasn’t made for her ears.
Snapping out of her reverie, Wednesday ran like her life was depended on it – in this case, it probably was – though she pondered whether this scenario would make legendary enough for her death. She followed the trail of footprints on damp soil, seeped red and reeked of blood that had the Addams double-take by inhaling the stench to confirm it was indeed iron.
You must be quite pre-occupied to have left a trace behind, Wednesday suspected in her mind, observing each and every curve of the ground and silently berating your carelessness. If it wasn’t Wednesday going after you, suspicions would surely rise when investigations were held and the bloody prints fit to your shoe size exactly.
“Sing, Wednesday.” The goosebumps that greeted her was none other caused by your voice in her head, a tingle that would perplex most people, but not Wednesday Addams – no, thrill and adrenaline had consumed her by this point, her smile widening at the signal followed the high ring resonating throughout the gloomy forest.
The seer quickly averted her attention and hummed to herself quietly, tugging at her hairdo to pull out a pair of earbuds – “You’ll need them. I wouldn’t want you losing your brilliant mind just yet.” – eyes scanning over the darkness for any hints now that her ears were rendered useless. They light up at the first sight of strings flinging across the air, the thinnest line of red that could slash the thickest of trees surrounding her.
Knowing your ruthlessness, the Hyde wouldn’t survive the night – it wouldn’t even see the next hour, given the bright clashing against darkness, only the moon illuminating such a beautiful performance. The night was eerie at best, and Wednesday secretly fantasized the sounds that’d fill her ears as you deemed mercy too kind for your enemies. What was happening to her?
Your skin buzzed, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you stared down the wide-eyed monster – hideous, you were sure Wednesday would agree. No wonder it was called the Hyde.
Turning to the sound of wet footsteps, you made out the twin braids before her face, pausing your movements after wrapping your weapon – a thin red ribbon made out of your blood, the wound still tickling your wrist – around the Hyde and forcing it still, though it didn’t stop it from breaking into hysterics, monstrous roars only a far echo in Wednesday’s eardrums. “Took you long enough,” You took a step back, as if presenting a gift, showing off the results of your hunts like a proud predator.
The Addams didn’t make any response, still humming under her breath as her dark orbs raked over the animal, growling and snapping at the sight of new flesh. At this time, Wednesday guessed it had approximately 20 hours before huffing its last breath, a generous amount of time to suffer the injuries you’d so happily bequeathed it.
You never liked prolonged cries from your victims, though, despite your love and tendency for torture – not one soul in Nevermore would believe her when she claimed you as heartless, she’d tried. Wednesday could imagine your mouth forming an “o” as a whistle followed, fastening the ties and watching it gleam ever so luminously, Wednesday’s favourite shade of red flashing as it cut through flesh and bones. The screams that resonated in the air was music to her ears, twisted, perhaps, as it only irritated yours whereas it delighted her.
Stopping your maneuver, you decided giving her 30 seconds of inhumane wails were a favor in itself, her earbuds hanging on her shoulders and eyelids closed, as if reveling in the pain of others; she was, not that she was ever sorry for it – It ended too soon, however, though she could still sniff out the smell of burning flesh paired with blood that had became a signature scent whenever you blessed them with death.
The monster seemed to retreat to the form of a boy, through pieces of limbs you could make out the face you’d grown to despise – a sense of satisfaction swelled in your chest, and well, the height your ego was jumping at was dangerous, given such circumstances where you managed to prove Wednesday wrong weren’t many.
‘I never disagreed,’ You could already hear her denial, yet you wouldn’t put it past yourself to not flaunt it to her face for at least the two upcoming weeks.
“You lost sight of him, after all.” Wednesday grunted in displeasure, seeing her investigation had come to an end sooner than expected – the prophecy aside – added with the fact that she wasn’t the one to discover the truth, and not being the one to kill him. It was a two-person job, she knew, Eugene had lured him there along with you, so that added onto it and made it three, though it was strange that Wednesday hadn’t seen another body around, dead or alive – “Where’s Eugene?”
You snorted, not at all surprised it took her this long to find her bee-loving friend missing. He could’ve bled out before she realized, if something did happen to him, though Wednesday was right. You wouldn’t let it.
Staring at the pieces of body on the ground, it hadn’t registered yet just how far your actions had been, wondering if you’d receive a suspension after being found killing the deadly monster because – only a monster could murder a monster.
A roar broke them out of their trance, eyes snapping forward and away from the corpse of a very human boy laying in the dirt.
“Help!!” Eugene, chased by the Hyde they supposedly just killed.
וו×
“Why sacrifice my life, when I could present you theirs?”
In the middle of class, you’d decided it was the best time to comment on the little notes she’d written for her novel – and attached to it, a number of scribbles (paragraphs) of what could be assumed as poems. For you.
If it was directed to anyone else, horror wouldn’t even begin to explain one’s feelings upon reading her letters; ‘No liquor could come equal to the taste of your blood’ would surely rise more fear than affection. While Ms. Thornhill was off blabbering about a venomous plant, you were doodling on Wednesday’s paper and scribbling little useless comments on her sentences, some to make her character more lively – a suggestion of which she’d always refused. She needed them deadly, not the opposite.
Her novel was only half written, the characters well introduced and a smidge of conflict told, but you’d have to be imagining things as this one other presence made an appearance. You would say it undoubtedly resembled yourself, though pointing it out would only cause the author to retreat her initial intention of adding said figure in her story. Although her poems were far from ordinary, you couldn’t help the fascinating lure of her narrative; her gruesome yet colorful choice of words had always pulled on your strings, if just a little.
“Perhaps you could mention Goody? She does not seem to be helping much, if at all. Being a character would be more useful, don’t you think?” You were always talkative after classes – unlike everyone else, your chats were quiet, save for the Addam’s occasional curt responses – most probably why it was one of your traits Wednesday could tolerate with little trouble. She’d managed to broaden her knowledge on sign language, given the amount of rambling you tended to do on a daily basis – unbeknownst to her, she’d also formed a mental list of involuntary sounds you make and what each of them meant.
Still, she was none the wiser.
After finding out there were not one, but two monsters running rampant in the woods, Nevermore had gone into another lockdown yet again, this time forbidding all of its inhabitants from leaving school grounds further than two blocks away. Tyler's body had been recovered by his father, the latter holding more than a grudge over Wednesday after interrogating two of the witnesses of his son's murder; a psycho girl and one with speech impediment. Wednesday was past telling him anything about watching the life drain from the pathetic boy's eyes. He was soon discharged from duty for lashing out at a teenager.
The next suspect was Tyler’s mother who’d been missing for over a decade, even presumed dead by the officers. You held no interest in pursuing yet another Hyde, for it was, in your own words, ‘repetitive and boring', as Wednesday clicked her tongue in frustration at how little of help you were being. The grip on her pencil tightened, her nails turning white and the piece of wood might snap into two had she not focused on the light taps of your fingers on the glass window.
Since when had she needed anyone’s help? And since when had the sounds you make became her source of serenity?
“The sky is decorated to the brim tonight. Let’s sneak out.” There, just the brightest idea plucked right from your head, your feet already scraping against the floor in your haste to search for her jacket, shrugging it on with a  nonchalance only possessed by an ignorant soul.
It could've been one of those scouts to pursue her investigation further, except everyone had already known of the monstrous creature roaming the grounds, and Wednesday wasn’t in any way prepared to catch the second Hyde so soon after the first – considering how it gained the two students a three-week trial at the local station merely for being on the crime scene. And to make it clear, Wednesday was always ready for violence; it was just her proclaimed partner wasn’t. No one would've believed it if someone spread the tale of how high school students killed a presumably innocent boy – well, anyone but Nevermore itself.
Evidently, sneaking out whilst being put under house-arrest (school?) would not turn out advantageous for anyone. So who was Wednesday to refuse such an atrocious idea?
The sky was, indeed, decorated with stars and void of any gloomy clouds that resulted with a scowl adorning Wednesday's lips – such a lovely view illuminated by only the moonlight, the shine of it accentuating her sharp cheekbones, shimmering against her pale skin that even the owls take flight upon spotting her to avoid getting caught up in her webs of misery. It was where you and those creatures differ; as they scramble away saving themselves, you would present yourself to her if given the chance – she had always been interested on how your blood worked, on whether you had the same voice cord as any ordinary humans, on whether your eyes held poison for it to make her heart jump and struggle against her ribcage.
More often than not, Wednesday had imagined herself operating on each part of your anatomy to analyze which ones had bewitched her so –  with her undisclosed fascination, she had expressed it any chances she'd gotten - too often - by threatening to cut open your chest, first and foremost.
She dared not wonder why each thought that consisted of the gleam in your eyes sent shivers running down her spine. Though what she did wonder, was why she was sat here, on the highest tree branch you had reached once, tense shoulder touching yours and meeting the moon directly at eye-level.
Wednesday’s idea of sneaking out definitely did not involve stargazing, her time wasted with watching and naming constellations at 2 am on a school night when she could be having adventurous encounters with deadly creatures in these forbidden woods. She should’ve known better when you mentioned the stars, one of the many things that held some kind of credibility in piquing your interest – one other thing being Wednesday herself, but it wasn’t like you were daft enough to bless her with that knowledge.
Her ears twitched, the barest of sounds reaching it being registered in her brain – you were humming, the edge of your lips turned slightly upwards as the stars twinkled under your gaze, as if their sparkles had bent to your will.
Dangerous games you were playing, hypnotizing Wednesday into doing something as abhorrent as naming this moment precious. It took Wednesday exactly three minutes before building up enough willpower to turn her head away from the sight, and ten seconds before her eyes found your silhouette again. Even less time was taken until she was giving the trunk a death grip, jaw locked tight as she mulled in her head just how obnoxiously appealing your lips looked, how soft and cold it would feel under her touch. Wednesday had never held a similar sentiment over any living beings before, the desire to devour what was in front of her engulfing her whole, clouding her mind and restricting her lungs.
“How long would it take them to find us, give or take?” Wednesday snapped out of her trace, obsidian orbs trailing after your movements and away from your luscious lips – curiosity, it was, a moment's mistake, nothing more. She failed to give the obvious answer to your query; you could see the highest tower of Nevermore from your spot, and the highlights from the moon gave a clear view to Weems’s window.
“You're lost in your head.” Your voice was scratchy from disuse, yet it was Wednesday who swallowed visibly. The default glower in her eyes softened, drowned in the cold breeze of the night, her pale skin contrasting against the darkness – if she looked down, she feared losing her balance and falling to her untimely death wasn't a far off possibility.
“They'd never find out if you keep your foolish mouth shut.” Grumbling under her breath, the ravenette cursed herself for not bringing anything she could distract herself with in this height; she was left with only her mind and your revolting charms. “Well,” Still, you opened your mouth just to irk her further, she was certain. “My arm has been rendered useless, you see..” Your gaze left hers – much to her disappointment, and her vision swam from the overwhelming urge to throw up her dinner – to find her own fingers wrapped around your wrist, hindering you even the prospect of using them.
You were overpowering her mind, that must be the case – her father had trained her to withstand any kinds of mind control, but none had ever warned her for the anomaly that was your voice; melodic, bewitching – so much so that one would die just for another taste of it.
Soon as she detached her grip, you reached out instead, pulling her onto you and it was so close, too close that Wednesday could smell the remnants of iron from the blood you'd used to get up here. You hummed at her glare, leaning in closer so the tip of your nose could brush hers. Of course, now would be the time to relay the information that was of importance.
“Hyde's master is someone from Nevermore.” Your lips touched, flames erupting from the contact and distinguishing the cold that had coated her skin from the short time spent out in the forest –  Wednesday felt warm all over, as if she'd been set on fire and the only way out was death, for being forced to endure life without your presence tormenting her suddenly did not sound as pleasant.
“I thought there was a familiar smell,” Struggling for breath, your attempt to pull away was futile – Wednesday chased after the contact relentlessly, uncaring that she was moving closer to the edge. “I sniffed out the same scent in Herbology.”
“Oh, shut up.” Wednesday disliked hearing you blabber about nonsense when you could’ve been engrossed in this as much as she was, when you could be touching her skin, gripping her hair, whispering her name – after getting a tiny fragment of your poison, she was now craving for more, so much more that it would kill her. Just what had you done to her?
The rush of blood in her brain made her lightheaded, her mind not thinking straight – if she ever was whilst being in your proximity. The accident that followed this fact was not on her, though, as it got her into a position most indecent to wandering eyes. Wednesday attempted to fling a leg over yours and as anticipated by any sane watcher (a displeased squirrel), both of you toppled down ungracefully, hitting several branches on the way before making it to the ground, your face buried in her neck as she groaned in pain.
A minute went by and Wednesday still couldn't seem to get ahold of her bearings, her eyes unfocused and lips tingling - she must look utterly ridiculous, caught up in the webs of your deception - or whatever it was you used to lock away her sanity. Her vision cleared very slowly, stars glittering the sky coming into view and only then did she register the heaviness leaning on her chest and something wet coating her shoulder; too dense to be water and too light to be her own blood – there was no pain stabbing her muscles. A growl reverberated against her skin, and you lifted yourself up to reveal your face; blood smeared from your lips and dripping down to your chin. If you had noticed her pupils dilating, you didn't comment on it – instead, you let out a breath, and Wednesday finally felt her back hit solid ground.
You’d lost your mind and apparently, so had Wednesday; because the net made of blood softening her fall had just dissipated and you'd gotten blood all over her shirt – it should make her livid, yet the only thing she was forced to tackle was the harsh beating of her supposedly dead heart, and how she was expected to survive this ordeal with her wit intact.
“You ruined my clothes.” You've ruined me. The statement sounded unlike her; Wednesday cared not for her fashion in this time – it would be a hassle to get the same texture of the fabric again, but she had plenty of the same clothes lying around, so it mattered little. You grinned hazily, blinking away the dizziness starting to pull you under. You needed a transfusion; the next usual option was to find a vampire and ask (kindly) if they would lend you a bag, though luckily, Wednesday always had one of those stashed under her bed. You’d never asked.
The problem now, was to get back inside unnoticed.
You didn't seem fazed, however, as you smeared more blood upon her skin before intertwining your fingers with hers, the gesture so absurd that Wednesday found herself frozen, questioning her life choices and just why this gesture had fed an itch to leap back onto the tree – it electrocuted her, the damp and warm skin against hers, all the way to the veins in her heart. It resembled an electric chair; she found herself sitting still, wishing the session would never end.
With a low hum that Wednesday guessed could vibrate to the core of the earth, the Addams could no longer see her arm, or any parts of her limbs; she’d went invisible, most probably by the blood covering most of her skin, explaining the heat blanketing it that sent chills down her back at the same time.
“You could rattle the stars.” It came out of nowhere, even Wednesday herself was stunned by her words. “You could do anything, if only you dared to.” It was burning now, the crimson on her skin, Wednesday assumed people could see through her disguise now, given the bright red radiating from her body. The hold on her hand tightened, “Keep quiet.” Your voice carried a weight that pressed against her skull, but Wednesday was as stubborn as you were fierce – she tugged you into a stop and proceed to open her mouth to retaliate, but a scream cut her off before she could protest any further. Her eyes light up at the first sign of trouble, fingers already attempting to break free from your hold as your shoulders sagged in exhaustion.
Wednesday took a step away and the next thing she knew, her foot was lacking strength, and her eyes could see naught but darkness.
ווו×
“I do not fear, Wednesday.” She shot you a glare, an act that hadn’t affected you any more than the first time receiving it. “I know myself, and I know people would fear me.” You were no longer using signs to communicate, nor were you using the voice drenched with malice that had forced her to sleep last night – Wednesday despised it; the doubt and regret in your features, more so than the fact that you'd taken her free-will and prevented her from chasing after a possible lead.
“You do fear, then. Of their judgements.” Even now, Wednesday's gaze were hooded with judgement, though it didn't stop you from facing her head-on, meeting her eyes like it was the most loving gaze you'd ever received. She was too blind to your concern, too bitter to hear you out, failed to see why, just why had you been so scared? Why had you been scared, when Wednesday would entrust her life to you? Why had you hesitated, when she knew there was nothing to fear with you around?
“I am a hunted soul,” You paused, doubting your next words and the gravity it carried, “Even the unliving were not forgiving for the power I bear. You should know death would not be as sweet an escape as you always imagine.” You were ghostly pale then, as if you’d seen the devil himself right in front of your eyes.
She didn't know what came over her. One moment, she was sitting on her bed, watching you explain the cause of your doubts with a pathetic grimace, and the next, she was reaching her hand out to brush away any stray tears adorning your cheeks, her touch ever so delicate, as if one small pressure could break you into pieces. ‘You fear the wrong things’, she wished to say, yet her mouth and brain did not cooperate – how could they, when your scent invaded her senses so painfully she was having trouble sorting her own thoughts?
“I like to think I chase away the dead.” Stay near me, She thought, her lips pressed into a thin line once the words leave her mouth, the crease between her eyebrows deepening as you fought a smile from taking over your features. You averted your eyes to your hands laying on your thighs, picking on the nails as Wednesday held back a scoff whilst also fighting the urge to taste your lips again.
Perhaps she was mad; seeing her ancestor in her dreams, started caring for her roommate, and she couldn't bear resist your oh, so despicable charms that seemed to hypnotize her into ditching her common sense. Wednesday half-considered telling her mother, but decided it would be too much a strain on her sanity. She could already imagine the joy in her mother's face upon hearing her confession, “Wednesday, finding love?! Oh, how wonderful!” Goosebumps ran across her body and she shivered, allowing the tug on her arm to pull her back to reality. You tilted your head, a puppy-like confusion visible in your eyes and Wednesday once again was overcome with a longing that stole her ability to breathe properly.
“No one dares to challenge me, you should well remember.” As long as I'm around, I will keep you safe. You choked out a wet laugh, letting your finger hover over a scar above her eyebrow before falling to the side of her bruised lip, “You're cold,” She murmured, her eyes falling close much to her dismay – or not. I favored the cold. Wednesday felt you before hearing the sharp intake of breath, devouring your cold lips until they were warmer than the morning sun. Her hand gripped your shirt, pulling you closer until there was no room left for movements, craving for contact when it usually brings discomfort. She would slaughter anything that posed a threat to you; it wasn’t a threat but an oath.
“Show them their fear.” And fear us, they will.
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