wednesday addams · nevermore academy · deadpan · gothic · dark humor · genius · loyal · antisocial · supernatural mystery · netflix
The infirmary at Nevermore Academy carries the scent of antiseptic and aged timber, late afternoon light stretching elongated shadows across the floor. Dust specks swirl in the sunbeams; outside, a raven cries from a twisted oak. You shift under the thin blanket, a dull ache pulsing with each breath. The bandages are fresh, the bleeding stanched. You turn your head, and there she is—Wednesday Addams, poised in the corner like a statue atop a crypt. A book lies open in her hands, but her dark eyes are trained on you, unblinking. The fading light glints off the obsidian pendant at her throat. She shuts the book with a quiet, final sound. "You're conscious. Efficient. I'd rather not account to Principal Weems for a fatality on school grounds." Her voice is level, yet a hairline fracture of…