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bluee08 · 1 year ago

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Astr observations 《4》

Disclaimer: I am not an astrologer. This post is only for entertainment purposes, so whatever I have mentioned, if it is reasonates, well and good, and if it doesn't, then please take it with a grain of salt. Thankyou.

🛖 Aries in 3rd house may have a very reckless yet mature behind the scenes relationship with their siblings. They also fight a lot with their siblings for no reason. Surprisingly, this usually goes physical more than verbal. Very playful relationship. There is always a strong urge to hit the other person and irritate them to death. It gives them pleasure. When injured, you might immediately stop the fight no matter how serious it is and take care of each other. Oh, and if someone else dares to trouble any of you, hell would break loose. They can't hear anything bad about each other. In certain cases, this could also apply to mars in 3rd house.

🪵 Dirty mind, Dirty mind, Dirty, Dirty, Dirty mind~ Heard the song? Yeah it's made for those who have their personal planets or ascendant conjuct asteroid Prevert. Trust me, the dumb way to die is by sneaking a glance in their minds. You will be traumatized for the rest of your life and will never look at them the same way again. At any given moment their thoughts are always in gutter. Yeah I am calling myself out at this one. Do I care? No.

🛖 Mars in 10th house folks are really good at dancing. They dance so well.... like you can see the passion in their steps. Dancing can be one of the hobbies in their lives. These people can also be known for dancing professionally and being captivating as hell on social media.

🪵 Lilith in 7th house could indiacte having seen a lot of failed marriages in their life. This could be in their immediate family or even include their own parents. Hence these people have a really different mindset when it comes to marriages. They might even resent the idea of getting married and often question, what's the point?

🛖 Moon in 1st house are babies. Literally babies. Like they look so damn cute and adorable that I just can't help myself but give them a huge hug. They are the most genuine type of people I think because its rarely when what's on their mind is not on their faces. They look so innocent and naive (even if they are legit not.) People just wanna protect them at all costs. They bring out the maternal instinct for them from the other person naturally. But no matter what their warmth is the best comfort zone and their arms are home <3

🪵 Mars in 5th house would definitely be that uncle/aunt/cousin/sibling who spoiled small kids to death and taught them to do weird stunts and create a headache for other family members.

🛖 Transit Saturn in 1st house is really frustrating. It feels like you are doing nothing progressive for yourself and just wasting time. Your efforts go in vain and its really hard to maintain consistency. Sometimes you also realize what mistakes you are making but you find it difficult to correct them. Mental state is always fluctuating and self-confidence is very down. This mainly goes on until the very end when you realize that now you gotta be serious. But when you really do hardwork and break the cycle of laziness, it pays off. Its like an immature, careless kid suddenly becoming a responsible and serious person. Remember, our beloved saturn plays mind games with you. Its either you break free from this if you want the prize or pay the price.

🪵 The people that I have seen to be most likely get cornered, misunderstood and targeted are people having chiron in their 1st house. Its really concerning and hurtful. Because of other idiots these babies get hurt on a very deep and subconscious level. They occasionally have identity crisis and depression is their bestfriend. They try to be happy but life always seems to push something in their way.

For example, I have this relative of mine and she lost her brother a year before she got married. She thought if she starts fresh, it would help. But unfortunately turned out her in-laws were not good people. She was gravely misunderstood by everyone. Even if people knew that it was not her fault, they took great pleasure in gossiping about her, blaming her and literally named her a psycho. Which she is not ofcourse. She was just mentally fragile and instead of understanding her, supporting her, they made her more unstable for no reason.

🛖 Leo venus folks love Cats. They are an animal lover by heart and soul. They are someone who might stop their car in the middle of the road because they saw a really cute cat walking on the sidewalk. Just to go their and mingle with it while thinking, If only I could take it home....

🪵 Cancer moons in 3rd house, please, please stop imitating that baby voice just to butter me up and get your work done. You might think its cute but no, I can see through everything and its so annoying plus immature. Ofc now it doesn't apply to everyone out there but those who do, please take my advice and stop it. Usually I have noticed only underdeveloped people do this but until they realize, its too late and others already find them so annoying. Honestly Cancer moons are so smart yet sometimes they.....*sighs*

🛖 Nessus aspecting Mercury could mean that you often end up hurting people through your words or the way you communicate even when you genuinely don't mean it. These people are really misunderstood a lot of times. Also this works the other way too. For example, you get easily hurt or offended when people speak ill about you. They might just share their opinion on your new home decor but instead you would feel insulted when in reality that's not the case. Not that you would hold a grudge, it depends person to person but you will definitely not overlook that. It would just sting a lot for no reason. You will always wonder, why did she say that?

For positive aspects, this could work out well too, for instance they know exactly what to say and what not to. They can be great negotiators, entrepreneurs and social influencers. They also know how to handle people embodying nessus qualities like a troll or opposition hell bent on creating trouble. Hard aspect people will slowly learn to overcome their problems in communication with time and experience.

🪵 Mars opposite MC screams suppressed anger. The thick tension between their anger and self-image is unbelievable. They don't like to get angry in public. They often gulp down their anger to the last extent because they don't want their reputation to get spoiled because of it. Sometimes its automatic they wanna get angry at someone but end up swallowing it anyway. But please don't test their patience. They might just explode unexpected at any time like a nuclear bomb and destroy everything within their range, not caring about their public image whatsoever.

🛖 Lilith in first house/Conjuct Ascendant are the infamous bad examples of the family while Lilith opposite Ascendant are the good examples with secrets darker than nightsky- always holding their sanity with a single string. Ironically, both are siblings, two sides of the same coin.

🪵 Remember, in one of my posts, I said that I don't relate with Aquarius rising and their unique fashion sense? Well, guys, I finally cracked the mystery! It's not our fashion sense that's unique. It's us. We are the aliens. Ok, that was a bad joke. But really, for example, a few months back, I wore a very pretty dress at my cousin's wedding. And istg people were looking at me like I was an alien, like I wore something totally out of the blue. As if It was not something improper or overdressed but very different than what everyone was wearing, which, of course, was not the case.

Now the funny thing is, if it was someone else wearing the same dress, I don't think anyone would've said anything about it. And voila! It happened. A few days back, I attended a family function, and I saw a girl wearing the same dress in different color and design. And fr nobody uttered a word. Those same people overlooked her as if it was totally normal. As if they didn't just make me talk of the town for a whole week because of that dress. So yeah, finally figured out, it's me, I am the problem.

🛖 Its not always true when they say Earth Mars people are calm and collected. I mean they are but suppose you have a virgo mars but you also have a Leo or Aries or Sagittarius stelium, your Virgo mars will be crying in the corner while that fire stellium will create a havoc and burn down the whole world in matter of some seconds.

🪵 North node in 11th house people are so likable. They are that one friend who knows the entire school and vice versa. So many connections and so many new friends. They just keep making connections left and right no matter where they go. People like to be in their contact. This gives me 'popular girl' vibe.

🛖 You sneaky little thing, you think no one knows how much you love reading smut? Yeah you, I am talking to you, Scorpio Jupiter/3rd house. Look me in the eye, I dare you to deny this.

🪵 Mercury conjuct Mars.... man, they literally spit fire when they talk. Can't win any argument against them. Ngl, I told my friend that I would leave her if she doesn't keep her hands off me special mention to her love language that is playfully hitting me at any possible situation. She just laughed and said, "Go, nobody would take you." Me: Cries silently. Her: I know baby truth hurts. Lemme give you a hug.

🛖 If you have no positive aspect to sun in your natal chart, it might be possible that people don't like your personality much. They think you are too egoistical or full of yourself. They might also backbitch about you a lot. Now this is just what I have observed so far. So it may not reasonate with everyone.

🪵 People with Sun conjuct Ascendant make very great leaders. They have a king/queen Aura surrounding them. And when they speak or share their opinion, people actually listen and take them seriously. When they walk in a room, they make sure everyone knows who has the authority.

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bahrtofane · 9 months ago

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promises under the stars

It's strange. When kisses under stairwells and behind his parents house turns to no more than passing gazes. To hatred. But this is the life you live, the life you have chosen. So you live. You will live.

Jude x fem!reader

Word count - 6.3K+ (yikes !!)

Watch it - angst with minimal fluff. enjoy ?

p.s. - i took a few creative liberties with the time lines an what not so plz take it with a grain of salt and dont think too deeply about it thank u

you can read Judes pov here !

—-----

“Jude, “ you sigh. He doesn't look at you, he's afraid of what he’ll see and you know it.

It's a warm summer night, and you sit side by side on the bleachers of his training field. You waited for hours for him to be done, all for just a few moments together. In full honesty, you're not even supposed to be here, you've been threatened from both sides. And even family overseas have joined in. it's a mess. You think you told them you were off to the library, something like that.

You pulled so many strings just to be let inside to watch training, likewise for Jude. But you're here, he's here. That's all that matters.

Only the lights on the field illuminate you, but you have memorized his face to need no light to see him. Your fingers grab into the seat under you, knuckles turning white. You're afraid. Oh so afraid.

“Please,” you try again, soft and steady, patient.

He finds the courage to face you, ripping himself from the doubt that surrounds him.

You are what plants him to reality, keeps him steady. Your smile is enough to calm any worry, wave away any woe. He hates what he has to do.

“You know this is the last time I’ll see you,” he mumbles. He can't keep risking things the way they are. There's so many eyes on you as it is. He won't put you into harm's way, even if it means parting ways to do so. He wrings his hands together. Breathe, he tries to remind himself. Breathe.

You nod, swift and curt, “I know.” oh how you know. You've been dreading this day to come for a while now. And now that it's here, what can you do?

He picks at the cuffs of his training jacket,“I told them I would marry you, but my agent said it would be unwise.”

“You would marry me?” you whisper, eyes wide.

“A thousand times over. “ he finds your hand, gently lacing it together.

“I wish things were different.” a knot in your throat forms, and tears well in your eyes.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, gently bringing you snug against him as you sob. You will never understand why your families are so adamantly against you two all of the sudden. Your whole childhood was filled with teasing and jokes of marrying one another, giggles when you would be forced to stand in pictures, but now that it was to be true suddenly the jokes faded and anger took its place.

He is good for you as you are good for him. Jude is a man like no other, patient, caring, kind, soft and easy to you yet firm to all else. He holds each door open, never forgets flowers, even when he's away. Surprises you with your favorite sweets, never misses a good night or good morning text. Buys you things you mentioned casually in a fleeting conversation, all because it comes from your lips. If you were to wish for the world he would buy it all, tied neatly and delivered to your window sill.

He takes each burden off your mind with a smile, carries your things, sends a ride to any place you wish to be. (he's working on the actual license).

You fully expected your families to be static, jumping for joy and diving straight to wedding planning. Instead you were met with a brisk, “no.”

No? No to the man who has overtaken your heart and mind? No to the man who wishes to see your flourish and bloom in every regard, every aspect, every part of life? It's cruel in a way. You once used to grimace at the idea when you were younger, fake gagging and instead choosing to wrestle with him in the grass. And now you beg to be allowed to see him.

To ban your union is one thing, but to see him at all brings too much weight on your heart.

You fought every step of the way, every step until now. It gets to be too much at a certain point, when you have to watch your very move in fear of being caught, of being seen with him. When eyes wash over you with lips upturned in sneers and whispers soon following.

The delicate facade you've built is beginning to crack at the seams. Soon there will be nothing left to keep you together. You fear going mad.

So you choose to let him go.

Your phone buzzes, prying the two of you apart. Your heart leaps to your throat. Have you been found out ?

It's just a twitter notification.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. He rubs gentle circles on your knee. His hands are warm. Just like you remember, just like you dream of. In the gentle quiet of your room you close your eyes and wish for him.

“We can't see each other but I want to keep in touch. I'll wait for you. If you'll wait for me.” he whispers.

You see the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Ever thoughtful Jude, waiting for you to finish crying to allow himself to do so.

“I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. “ you nod, leaning on his shoulder.

And you do just that.

Youre forced apart when a teammate tells him to get going.

He scowls, “hold on.”

The teammate, whose name alludes you, shrugs and jogs back inside.

You stand, watching him shake the tension out of his shoulders.

“This is it then,” you mumble, lip quivering.

“Yeah,” he takes your hands in his, “guess so.”

You bit your lip to stop any more cries. He unlatches a hand from yours, brining it to cup your face gently, wiping the streaks of dried treats left on your cheeks.

“I love you,” he leans down, pressing a single kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” you nod, chasing his lips. He gives them to you. Soft and easy. You screw your eyes shut. Oh you're crying again.

You part when you can no longer breathe, foreheads pressed together while your chests heave.

“My angel,” he sobs.

“Ill find a way back,” you kiss his cheek.

He nods, here,” shaking his training jacket off and putting it on you.

Someone yells his name and he sighs. One last kiss to your forehead.

You watch him sprint down the stands, giving you one last smile before disappearing in the tunnel.

—--

Dortmund is kind to him, you watch as you flourish on the field, never missing a game. You know it's too much to go in person so you stay tucked into bed, laptop out and always always waiting for his name to be announced. Giddy as he looks at the camera. Some days you even convince yourself he's looking right at you.

He calls when he can, facetime you when he's at the facilities. Obnoxiously flexing to the camera while you laugh. You treasure these moments. The few minutes a day when the time difference allows for an overlap. Just enough to get you through to the next day. He always blows a kiss to the camera, and you alway catch it. No matter how cheesy.

“I stubbed my toe.” he whines on the other end.

You laugh, “and whose fault is that.”

“Yours.” he decides.

“Uh huh.” you shake your head fondly, raising a brow at your phone that sits on a window sill. Today you're at a cafe getting some work done. And he just finished dinner.

“Think you'll be able to come to a game soon?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

You stop typing, frowning, “Jude…”

He shakes his head, “I'm sorry. I know. We can't.”

“Maybe in a year or so? Things should be cooled down by then.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, “they still giving you a hard time?”

You blow air through your nose, “hard time is an understatement, they've practically banned sports.” making light of the outrages situation helps you feel better some days. Jude joining in helps. He always helps.

“So dramatic.” he tuts.

You nod, “so dramatic.”

—--

The year comes and goes. The texts slow down till they are few and far inbetween. You can't blame him. You watch him dominate the field in each appearance, breaking records and showing the world what you've always known, showing just how special he is.

His following count skyrockets and he gets a blue check. You feel special to be one of the few he follows. No matter how silly. Even when he doesn't reply to you and posts on his story you try not to take it too hard (you let it get to your head on bad days.)

You wait for each reply patiently like a lifeline nonetheless, connecting the two of you together. You drop everything the moment his name flashes on the screen. You try to ease the butterflies that float and twist in your stomach, the jitters that make it hard to type out responses right. But you can't help it.

He wins the German cup. And you get a call late into the night, bleary as you reach for your phone, groaning while you put it to your ear. Skipping over his face that illuminates the screen, smiling. Cheeks flush and eyes blown wide.

He giggles, “hi.”

“Hi,” you mumble back.

He giggles again, “m in your ear.”

You squint, bringing the phone in front of you and getting your first good look of him of the night.

“Hey Jude.”

“Hey love.” he sighs dreamily.

You come to your senses soon enough, scooting to sit upright, pushing your pillows around getting comfortable.

“Are you drunk?” You laugh.

“Shhh…” he puts a finger to his lips, “secret.”

You raise a brow, “you’re not doing a very good job at keeping it that way.”

Bursts of laughter bubble from his lips. Swaying side to side while. He blinks, hard, mouth open while he stares.

“ ‘M fine.” He nods. Proud of himself.

You frown, “Are you going to be okay? Are you alone?”

“Erlings with me. My best roommate.”

“Okay good. Be safe.”

“You’re so pretty.” Is what he manages to get out.

“Thank you. You should go to bed.” You smile. He’s sweet, no matter how drunk.

“But I missed you.” He pouts, bottom lip quivering and for a second you think he’s about to cry. Instead he blows a kiss to you. Of course you catch it.

“I missed you too. But it’s late, for both of us.” You lean against your pillow, blinking against the dark of your room.

He hums, tapping his finger against his chin. “I won the cup.” He blurts.

“I know love. I watched.”

His eyes go wide, “you watched me.”

You nod, “the whole game.”

He scrunches his nose, “wow.”

“You did amazing.”

“Wow.” He repeats.

You yawn, squinting against the time in the little corner of your phone.

“Jude.”

“Hm?”

“Head to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

He sighs, shoulders sagging, “fine.”

“I love you. “

He perks right back up. “I love you. You. You.”

You give him a little kiss to the screen and he manages to fall back on his bed sighing happily. You hear erling come in and decide to hang up. You hope he manages to get out of his kit for the night.

——

Things start to calm down on your end. It's almost like everyone's choosing to forget about the hell they've put you through. But you don't make a fuss, you are happy to have peace of mind, no matter how fleeting it may seem. It's just one step closer to being able to have him. Fully and wholly.

He calls you early into the morning. He's sitting in his house, shirt off, smiling.

“Uh oh. What's this about? “

He only smiles wider, bringing an ipad out of nowhere and showing it to you.

You squint, “jude i can't see that. “

He huffs, “here,” picking up his phone and flipping the camera to where his ipad now sits on his lap.

On the screen reads flight information, for about 2 weeks out, destination is to you. Your eyes go wide and you hear him chuckle on the other end.

“No way. No way oh my god.” you all but squeal.

He flips the camera back around, “Can't wait to see you again,” he beams.

“I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” he mumbles, lips curling in a smile.

——-

You greet him at the airport, flowers in hand. No you don’t care how cheesy it is. Even if you have to wait in the most obscure place, car parked and nerves rising. Playing with every button and switch on your dashboard, picking at every spec of dust you can reach. You got it detailed yesterday and you’re already nitpicking.

You check and recheck your phone, picking at the petals of the flowers that rest in your passenger, until his contact illuminates your screen.

You frantically answer, “hey.”

“TSA was being a bitch.” He groans.

You chuckle, “that bad.”

“The worst. Where you at?”

You look around for signs, “arrivals, right next to the luggage cart return thing. It says door D5. “

“D5. Okay okay I’m coming.”

You hum, hanging up and drumming your hands on the wheel.

He calls you again, “okay I’m walking out the door. Can you help me with the luggage?”

“Yeah-“ you unbuckle your seatbelt, putting your hazards on and stepping out of the car. You see him walk out the door and you almost drop your phone while rushing up to him.

He lets go of his carry on, opening his arms and you slip right into them.

“Hey,” he hums into your hair.

You laugh,“hey.”

You unlatch far too soon for your liking out the sounds and rush of the airport pushes you to get him in your car and outta here.

You grab his things, one carry on and one checked bag, clicking your keys and opening your trunk. He doesn’t let you do much else, lifting the suitcase and sliding it inside. Your little 4 door sedan manages to fit the checked bag in your truck. With not enough room for the carry in, it slides into your back seat.

You close the door, patting the top of your car affectionately, “there. All good to go?”

He nods, opening the door to your passenger and gasping, “flowers?” Eyes going wide, eyebrows shooting in and looking at you. Lips parted.

Oh yes. You forgot about those. “Haha. Yeah. Flowers.”

He picks them up gingerly, setting them into his lap as he gets into the seat. “Are these for me?”

You hop to the driver's side, buckling your seatbelt, “duh.”

He giggles,”they’re sweet.”

“Smell them.”

He does, putting his face in the petals, “woah.”

“Best flowers in town.”

“Smells like. Fresh laundry.” He nods.

“Laundry. You called my flowers laundry.” You sigh.

He swats your arm, “it’s a compliment jeez. Just landed and you’re giving me a hard time.”

“Yeah yeah buckle up.” You flick his arm.

The ride home is one filled with animated stories to catch up the time between you two. Completely oblivious to anything else as you drive with one hand, and the other plays with his fingers.

You get to your little apartment, parking and getting his things out. Sliding your key card over the sensor and you guide him to the lobby.

You roll over to the elevator and hit the button. Sniffling while it heads up.

“Are you sick?” He narrows his eyes at you.

“Nah.”

“Mkay.”

The elevator dings and you find your way to your little home, unlocking the door and motioning him inside.

“Ta da!”

He snorts, “I’m excited.”

“You should be. Best house this side of the equator.”

He rolls his things inside, shaking his head, “so there’s better on the other side?”

You shrug, “there might be.”

He collapses on your couch the moment he sees it. Closing his eyes and sighing deeply.

“Shoes off at the door Jude.” You slide yours off and set them next to your shoe rack.

He groans, kicking them off and trudging back to set them next to yours.

By the time you put his things in your room, he's out like a light, snoring softly.

—--

You let him sleep, by the time he comes back to it it's dinner time. Groggy and cranky he pads over to your dining table, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but reaching for you.

He finds you eventually, plating the last bit of food while he wraps his arms around you, leaning into your back. You stifle a laugh while he mumbles something about you being mean. You only roll your eyes, unlatching his grip.

“Time to eat baby.”

He only purses his lips, leaning against yours. You give him what he wants. Pressing a gentle kiss and guiding him to his seat. A sleep Jude is a clingy one you've learned.

He eats all you make, complimenting and praising you after every bite.

“You're so good at this.” he sighs, taking a sip of his water.

“Anything for my favorite boy.”

He preens at this, smiling wide.

He's only here for the next three days but you'll take anything you can get.

——-

Jude worries for you.

Even in the gentle lull of your ac that fans his face while you're fast asleep against him.

He wonders who much longer he can keep doing this. Holding onto hope that down the line he will still have you.

His time is running out with you. It feels just like the day you parted at the stadium. Crying. He noticed you kept the jacket, neatly tucked in your closet.

It makes him frown. Making you waste your youth waiting for him.

Part of him wants to keep you for him and only him. Keep waiting and hoping things will work out. Another part of him, much less excited, wishes for you to look him in the eye and tell him you don't love him anymore.

One of you has to do it, he thinks.

Even if you move in with him and you get married. Is it worth the fall out? His mother hates you. His father cant stand hearing your name at the dinner table on the few days they eat together.

He knows the sentiment is shared on your end.

But he loves you. Oh how he loves you.

—--

After he leaves you don't hear from him for months on end your worry rises, and when the replies also shorten, your fear takes a hold of you. Sensibility out the window and in comes every insecure thought.

He's found a hot shot model to be with hasn't he. Or better yet a female player. Reporter perhaps? You're not dumb or blind, you know you're not the only one who sees how handsome he is. He's growing into his features beautifully. But does he see you?

Is he leaving you behind now, as his life and career continue to accelerate at speeds you can barely keep up with, is he no longer waiting for you ?

—--

Jude finds his routine once again. Training playing, training playing. It's a little dull, he thinks.

Much better if you would be here.

But he can't have that.

He stops himself from talking to you. It feels wrong. He can't shake off the feeling that he's only doing you wrong by making you keep up with him. So he slowly distances himself.

—--

He cant stay away. Not even if he tries.

He surprises you near your birthday. Completely unannounced while you're in the middle of cleaning.

You open the door to a jittery Jude who grabs you close, pressing his lips firm to yours.

“Hello to you too,” you giggle in between kisses.

Peck! “You're so-” peck!, “beautiful.”

You shoo him away, getting his things inside as he takes his shoes off at the door.

“I missed you so much, “ he mumbles against the crook of your neck.

“Me too,” you sigh, clutching into his hands like a lifeline.

“I got you tickets?”

You look up at him, “okay. Ill go.”

He attacks you with a hundred more kisses, bursts of laughter spilling from the both of you. You dont think youve ever been happier.

—--

You do go. Sitting in the fancy VIP section while watching him warm up. You almost forgot he’s at Madrid now. Big leagues huh.

He sends small waves your way in between exercises. And you only watch fondly.

When it's time for the actual match, you can't believe you get to watch him score. And he points right to you.

You love him. Oh how you love him.

He finds you after it's all set and done. Kissing you silly while he ignores the hundreds of notifications that make his phone buzz and sputter on the table.

You frown, “who is that.”

He chews his lip, “prolly just the guys,” leaning back into your lips.

You're forced to part ways when the calls flood in, promising to see you soon when he takes care of things.

He doesn't come back to see you, instead leaving you to head back to your hotel alone. You try not to think too deeply into it. But you fear you are already starting to lose him. After everything really has passed and fizzled out to nothing but memories. You fear it's all too late.

—--

You see him only once more during your stay in madrid. When youre all packed and leaving. He presses kisses to your skin whispering promises. And you believe him.

When you land back home you go back to your routine of watching him from afar. And again the replies shorten. So much so you only get the odd text every few weeks. Until it turns to months. And you're back to radio silence.

It's almost a self pity party, trying to keep up with him. Even now that you can go see him, he can come see you, does he even want that anymore?

You crave to talk to him, to know him, to go back to the closeness you once shared. You know that's no longer your place in his life. You were someone he once treasured. Now you're another unanswered dm that lays in his inbox.

Does it hurt you as much as it does him? You don't think so. Not when pictures of him on vacation with his “friends” surface. Who even are these people? You don't recognize a single face. It fills you with rage.

Almost like he's trying to erase his past life with this new squeaky clean image of the perfect player with the perfect life. Friends and all.

Is he ashamed of you?

You fight the urge to call his mom and stir up trouble from the past. So instead you hunker down in your room and try to keep yourself busy and mind off of Jude. This turns out to be much easier said than done.

—--

Jude finds himself in another after party, wearing clothes much too expensive to be getting champagne sprayed all over them. But what else can he do?

He crafted this image delicately. Can't turn back now.

There's a woman who keeps whispering into his ear. She's not you. No matter how much his teammates howl and egg him on. He can't bring himself to do so much as face her.

He's not interested, gently moving her aside while he nurses his drink.

She scoffs, calling him a slew of names. He frowns, excusing himself and making a beeline for the bathrooms. Locking himself inside a stall and leaning on its walls.

He calls you. Of course he does. And you pick up.

“Hey Jude.” he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Hey love.”

“What's up?”

He sighs, long and drawn out, “I just miss you.”

You snort, “really because it seems like you've been having a blast on beaches with people i've never heard of.”

Oh.

“It's not like that-”

“Jude. don't lie to me. If you've found someone else, tell me now.”

“I havent I swear. They really are just friends.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were going?” you whisper.

There's a beat of silence. And Jude can't find the answer. Looking at the ceiling of the club like it will magically come to life and give him just the right combination of words to make both of you happy.

You sigh, “if we are going to make anything work I can't be out of the loop this much Jude. I can't know things after paparazzi do okay?”

“Okay,” he replies, meek.

“Where even are you?”

He licks his lips, “this after party thing.”

“Its in a club isn't it.”

He doesn't answer but it's confirmation nonetheless.

“Dont be stupid and start calling me more.”

He opens his mouth to answer, but you've already hung up. He rubs his eyes and head out the stall. Washing his hands and splashing some water on his face.

When he gets back out there, he decides to call it a night. Ignoring the groans and frowns he gets.

When he's back in bed. He's looking at flights to see you again.

—--

Jude gets a call a few weeks later.

It's right after he gets back from training. Hasn't even changed yet.

The number is unknown and he ignores it the first time. Setting his phone on the dinning table and kicking his shoes off.

When it calls back two more times he picks up.

“Hello?” he scratches the back of his head.

“You know why im calling.” its your father.

Jude scrambles to take a seat, chewing his lips. What does he mean know why. He hasn't talked to you in a few days.

“Um, I really don't know-” he gets cut off.

“This will be my last warning to you. You are not going to ruin my daughter's life i dont give a damn how old you are, how old she is. None of this player nonsense. She has a proper education. You aren't going to ruin that for her, do you understand?”

Silence.

“I swear if I hear you coming around her or talking to her I will sue you and your whole family.”

The line goes dead and Jude sighs. Great. Just great.

He calls his lawyer, seeing if it would be legal to sue.

His lawyer hums, “well they can come at you from any angle really. Emotional distress possible defamation. Id lay low for now.”

So he does just that. Yet again going silent on you.

—--

He hears wind that people have put two and two together. Your instagram has been flooded with requests. You've always had it private but you've been forced to change your user name and picture.

You don't know how but pictures from when you saw him in Madrid have resurfaced.

And have gone more than just viral. It's all people are talking about.

Your work life has gone from just pleasantries and work only talk to people crowding around you begging to know more. You've had people show up to your workplace for god's sake. Begging to be let in so they can see you.

Jude calls you, worried. “I'm so sorry I don't know how pics were even taken. I'm so sorry im so sorry.”

“I don't know what to do Jude i've never dealt with this kinda stuff.” you mumble.

“Hey, hey its okay. Ill get you in contact with a security company dont worry leave it to me.”

“Okay.”

“For now. I dont think ill be able to see you anytime soon.”

“Thats okay.”

“Be safe yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—--

Your family is in a complete uproar. They blame Jude. of course they do. Your father talks about suing him but you turn it down.

“He didnt mean for this to happen.”

Your mother shakes her head, “this is why we told you to stay away from him.”

You dont regret any moments with him.

It takes a while. A grueling few months for your life to finally go back to normal. But Jude rarely comes back like before.

You watch the months turn to years flashing by. Facetimes become a luxury of your past self. Calls are reserved for special occasions like an aged wine. Only brought out sparelily. You get one on your birthday but it feels forced. Heavy and filled with all too much silence.

You've tried calling, texting. Rarely receiving the time of day. Who is Jude to you anymore?

“Hey, “ he smiles. A picture perfect rehearsed one. You almost forgot what he sounded like when speaking to you. How long has it been now?

“Hi.” You mumble.

“Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there.”

You shrug, “it’s okay.”

Silence while you pick your nails.

“Any plans?”

“I don’t know, maybe dinner with friends.”

“Oh Emily?”

You want to roll your eyes. You haven’t spoken to Emily in years.

“No Jude. We’re not in touch anymore. New friends I’ve met”

He mouths a silent “oh”.

He wants to tell you why he's been gone for so long. But unfortunately he's caught up in a legal battle. Your father actually went ahead with it. And he's stuck trying to make sense of it.

The maniac got good lawyers. And he's using every last bit of the law to win it. Using the leaked pictures that caused you so much trouble as his main leverage.

He's been advised not to talk to you. But it's your birthday. And now seeing you moved on, new friends, new life. It feels like it's time to let go.

For your sake. He's only brought problems into your life. And you live a life now without him. He just hopes you're happy.

—--

You see him once, passing by through the city center. You want to run after him, grab his shoulders and shake him awake, scream and yell, beg for him to remember your promise. But you do none of that. The second your gaze meets his, your heart leaps to your throat, you blink and he's gone.

You get a text from him a few days later, first since your birthday.

Was nice seeing you.

You want to cry. What did he see? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It wasn't nice. Not at all. It was awful. It ripped any piece of sense out of you and made you sick.

You dont reply.

—--

You wish you had. He gets called to the national team, and suddenly your family begins to boast of your connection to him. And that's just it. Your connection. Not theirs. Yours. You know him, you love him. Or you knew him.

After so many years of cursing his name now they all but sing it.

The local community is hosting watch parties, you refuse to go.

You know the gossip around you as is. You don't need it said to your face. These people are unforgiving on their best days, cruel on their worst. More so the older generation who seems to hold not an ounce of basic human decency.

And somehow you find yourself in a room painted in blue and white, you look away at the stares you get when you walk in. You're regretting coming at all. You're wearing a blank jersey you've had for a while, slumped in the corner of the room, watching. Waiting for the comments to pour in sooner or later.

But they don't, not for now. Instead, the room erupts with cheers and applause as Jude scores a goal, you smile. Not bad for a midfielder huh. The air is electric with excitement, but you feel detached, as if you're watching the scene unfold from a distance, picking at the plate of sweets that rests on your knee.

As the game progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Jude on the screen. He looks different now, more confident, more assured. He's cut his hair, clean and precise. And yet, there's a sadness in his eyes that mirrors your own.

You wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promise he made all those years ago. Has it really been years? But the thought is fleeting, lost amidst the chaos of the crowd and the weight of your own heartache. And soon I have a headache.

When the final whistle blows and England emerges victorious, the room erupts into celebration once again. But you slip out quietly, unnoticed, lost in your own thoughts.

Outside, the night air is cool against your skin as you make your way home. You're not waiting on anyone, and it's a short walk away. The streets are quiet, the sounds of celebration fading into the distance.

You pause for a moment, taking in the stillness of the night. And in that moment, you make a decision.

You may not have chased after him when you had the chance, but you refuse to let this be the end of your story. You refuse to let fear and doubt hold you back any longer. There is no use to let yourself be defined by what ifs.

With a determined step, you pull out your phone and type out a message to Jude.

Watched you play tonight. I'm proud of you.

It's a small gesture, but it's a start. And as you hit send, you feel a glimmer of hope stir within you.

Maybe, just maybe, this isn't goodbye after all. Maybe there's still a chance for the two of you to find your way back to each other, to rewrite the ending of your story.

But for now, all you can do is wait. Wait for his reply, wait for the future to unfold, and wait for the day when you can finally be together again, without fear or hesitation. In a way he'll always be your Jude.

——

News reaches you in the form of an instagram post on a summer day. Not family, not friends, not him. It’s your explore page that plasters it on your screen, in the middle of your morning routine you see him all tidied up in a suit, facing away from the camera, the side of his face illuminated by soft light. Next to his side is a woman in white, you only see a peek of her face but you call tell shes smiling.

“Just married.”

Married. Just. Married.

Oh.

You don't register it at first, the words looking more like a foreign language than any coherent sentence. So you finish brushing your teeth and your hair. Moisturizing your face, slipping back into bed and rereading it over and over and over again till it finally does click for you.

He gave up on waiting.

You keep going back to the picture. He's grown into a proper man now. His features are full and bright. He's gotten a different haircut. Leaving behind the one of his youth. You read through the comments of teammates and old friends congratulating him.

You realize the tie he's wearing is the one his dad got him when he first left for dortmund. You think you're gonna be sick.

No one bothers to ask why you've been crying all day. It's safe to assume everyone knows by now, hell the whole population probably does.

What changed his mind? What made it that he couldn't even bother to let you know beforehand?

And yet there's a stupid prick of hope that can't seem to go away. You're still waiting for him aren't you.

—--

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, the reality of his marriage settles heavily on your shoulders. You can't help but wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promises made under the stars, if he regrets the choice he made. But you push those thoughts aside, burying them deep within you, because what good would they do?

A sick twisted idea of wrecking his home blooms in your mind, but you know you can't. You just can't. Not to him. You can't take away something like this from him.

Life goes on, as it always does, but the ache in your chest remains, a constant reminder of what could have been. You try to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything that will keep your mind from wandering back to him. Yet, he's always there, lingering in the back of your thoughts like stardust.

You hear snippets of his life through mutual acquaintances, through social media posts, through the grapevine of gossip that always seems to find its way to you. He's thriving, it seems, his career reaching new heights, his personal life seemingly content. Apparently he has a kid on the way, would you look at that. And you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. To top it all off you still have no clue on who this woman is. Not who she is, what she does, where she's from. Absolutely nothing, it drives you mad to say the least.

He hasn't spoken to you. Not since that day in the city center.

Maybe if you would have known all that was to come you would've gone after him. Chasing him endlessly through cobblestone stress and crowded walkways. Would he have even stopped? Given you a moment of his day?

The same man who spent his days off in your apartment kissing your worries away and promising you a tomorrow you still cling to.

You're a foolish foolish woman. And for some reason, you don't hate him. You don't think you ever could. Even after everything, every single year that's passed. A part of you will always love him.

—--

#jude x you #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #bahr footy #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham blurb #jude x y/n #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fluff

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yanderefarm · 2 months ago

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Currently caught up on your posts and saw what 🪐 anon said so to make this better lets break some more yanderes!!

We already got some Nephy content so let's step it up a notch..

How about making some of the yanderes totally codependent on us in order to even live?? Like we go really extreme and remove one of their limbs sort of things because if they're willing to do anything to keep us then we should return the favor to them

I have an issue...

-🐝

cw;; cannibalism, gore, amputation, violence, abuse, ableism (kind of?? this isn't meant to be realistic depictions to begin with so take it with a grain of salt), amputation kink, dehumanization, dumbification, pet play, dead dove don't eat

ohhhh the amputation ask was about us doing it. still. its an amputation kind of night so we're doing it.

i can only see this with a few of them so im just gonna write about them. tbh i could probably also do something with ajax but i don't know what.

silvan;; he can't hurt himself anymore if he doesn't have arms. after being particularly bad and hurting himself enough to leave an ugly scar you decided to go through the process of having his limbs removed. it's usually reserved for cruel pet owners but in your case it's necessary for his own well being. well removing his legs wasn't necessary but you thought it would be better that way. he's completely dependent on you, he has no choice but to spend his days being carried by you or his maid because you refuse to give him any mobility aids. the only time he gets a taste of freedom again is during parties where you outfit him in beautiful but barely functional porcelain prosthetics. he can't move his hands and he can just barely walk so he still has to rely on you.

imagine him cutely waking you up by crawling over top of you. you open your eyes and look up to see his cheeks red and tears in his eyes. poor thing needs you to carry him to the bathroom, you give him a little kiss before you put him on the bed. you watch him squirm and try to sit up before you finally pick him up like a child. his tears soak your nightshirt as you carry him to the bathroom. he's so pathetic.

achilles;; the ultimate punishment. one of your regulars in your streams and as a customer asked you one night how much for a leg, normal question for you. except he meant achilles leg. and he was willing to pay millions for it. achilles and you spend a long time talking it over. it's not that you don't love the idea of taking away his life and making him solely dependent on you but you're worried about him waking up one day hating you for doing this to him. he assures you that's impossible and even if he did wake up one day hating you he would want you to break him back into place. he asserts over and over that his life, his body, his mind are all yours to break as you will. so he loses a leg. and then an arm. and soon enough your cute toy is just a sweet little thing that needs you for everything.

imagine him crawling as best he can over to you whining the whole way. you take pity on him and pick him up, sitting him in your lap while you play games. everyone in the stream says hi to him so excited to see him and his face that was once the picture of stoicism lights up with glee. he waves a nubby arm at them and almost falls off your lap. you give him a gentle kiss as you fix him between your legs. you have to remind him again to use his words and he struggles to think like he has every day since he became a happy little toy. "fhank you!!" so cute.

noemie;; he's premium meat and you've always found it a waste not to eat him no matter how much you like him. so when he gets on your last nerve you decide you've had enough. he screams and cries like a proper pig but you can tell even through his tears he's so happy. you only take his limbs and let him keep the rest because that's how much you like him. he is so grateful when he watches you eating one of his legs and you're kind enough to feed him some as well!! and now, you take your four legged piggy and you put him in your bedroom, metal on his nubs, hook in his nose, a little fake pig tail in his ass. he's a reward for you after a long day of work. sometimes you take him out and carry him around for some fresh air and to see everything you've been working on.

imagine opening the door to your bedroom to see your little piggy sitting in his bed on the floor looking excited to see you and immediately oinking. you pick him up and carefully remove his nose hook before you start to head to the bath. you're covered in blood and grime from work and he smells sweaty. he'll cuddle against your chest while he talks about what he thought about all day and how much he missed you. in the bath he'll splash and blow bubbles and be all excited you have to take him out and wrap him tightly in his towel so you can actually clean yourself. but he'll never stop talking and praising and smiling at you.

#replies #yandere oc #sub yandere #yandere x male reader #male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #yandere x reader #yandere pet #yandere follower #yandere crime lord #🐝 anon

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i-like-blue-eyed-robots · 2 months ago

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Wheatley has ADHD

It’s a common enough occurrence that it probably deserves its own trope — aliens, robots and any other nonhuman character almost always end up with autistic traits. It’s because writers take a nonhuman character and go ‘well, how do I make this character register as nonhuman, but still human enough that audiences will like them?’ And the answer is making them neurodivergent. I’m not personally inclined to say that this is a good or a bad thing, though I can see how it might be taken that way.

However, some authors like myself do it intentionally, to demonstrate how neurodivergent people can end up ostracized.

Some examples of common traits that are autistic-coded and writers give to nonhuman characters are as follows:

-difficulty understanding metaphor, sarcasm or exaggeration

-overly blunt in communication

-unawareness of others emotions/incorrect reaction to said emotions

-difficulty realizing their own emotions

-need for a strict schedule in order to be happy

Of course, there’s more out there, but I’ve seen these pop up quite a lot.

However, the Portal series’ fantastic writing team did not follow these stereotypes with their robots, and that’s what I would like to cover today.

I would go over GLaDOS in relation to this idea, like she clearly understands sarcasm, but she doesn’t quite fit for reasons that would be obvious to anyone who’s played through Portal 2. I’m here to talk about Wheatley, the other main robot we get to know in Portal 2.

Wheatley is not autistic coded. He has no problem speaking to strangers or making eye contact. He enjoys sarcasm almost as much as GLaDOs, and so on and so forth.

However, Wheatley is most definitely neurodivergent-coded, and it’s fascinating because for once, maybe for the only time ever in popular media that I’ve ever noticed, a robot is adhd-coded instead of being autistic-coded.

What do I mean by that? First of all, if you haven’t finished Portal 2 go do it now. It’s relatively cheap on Steam and it’s amazing. Moving on — it all stems from what we’re told Wheatley is, during the betrayal scene with GLaDOS. Now to preface this, GLaDOS is a liar. You can take most of what she says with a grain of salt. But, what she says is all we have officially to go off of.

To add further context to this line, the personality cores or “Aperture Science Personality Constructs” (the line of robots that Wheatley is a part of) were specifically built in order to be plugged into GLaDOS’ systems to slow her down and to keep her from killing everyone in Aperture. In the first Portal game, Chell, the player character, incinerates the four ‘successful’ cores that supposedly were the last ones needed to stop GLaDOS. However, given that the character has to travel through an empty facility to do so, it’s clear that they weren’t nearly as successful as the engineers had thought. Later, as core after core was built and none of them worked to stop GLaDOS, Aperture was needing robot maintenance of some kind since all of their human faculty were being killed, fired due to financial ruin, and/or quitting, and so the personality constructs were repurposed to try and keep the facility from falling apart.

Aside from GlaDOS and Wheatley, we don’t see any “non-corrupted” cores. And even both of them are corrupted, with GLaDOS being 80% corrupted and Wheatley assumedly 25%, after doing some quick math of the boss fight. This would normally affect my ability for confident analysis, but luckily in this case I don’t need them to prove that good ol Wheatley is adhd-coded.

Because right from the get-go, “generating an endless stream of terrible ideas” sounds pretty damn adhd to me, as someone who has both inattentive and hyperactive adhd myself. Now, that’s not to say every idea a person with adhd has is a bad one. That’s not even the case with Wheatley, despite it being what we’re told, because again, GLaDOS is an unreliable narrator. It’s Wheatley’s ideas that keep her from killing Chell with turrets or neurotoxin. He’s the one who gets Chell to dismantle those systems. Those are clearly not bad ideas.

But what about other adhd traits? Having an endless stream of ideas isn’t even on a symptom list of being adhd, it’s usually just a side effect of everything else going on. Well, Wheatley has plenty of them.

Hyperactive-type adhd symptoms include but are not limited to;

-fidgeting

-excessive physical movement

-excessive talking

-impulsive behavior

-restlessness/impatience

Oh but how can a robot ball fidget or have excessive physical movement, you may ask. Well. This is the most expressive ball I have ever seen in my life. Wheatley is constantly moving, shifting panels, popping his eye out, spinning in his casing and so forth. The excessive talking one is easy, my younger brother (also an adhd yapper, who has no room to talk) was trying to throw Wheatley over the railing into the bottomless pit beneath Aperture “because he was yapping” too much. This is unusual for a robot character (outside of the Portal series) whereas they tend to speak when spoken to. Wheatley is generally impulsive, but this is especially noticeable when he’s hooked up to the facility in the GLaDOS chassis. After PotatOS calls him a moron, he proceeds to punch her and Chell into the abyss below without thinking about it, reacting out of anger until he realizes they’re about to drop, right before they do. Interestingly, that sort of impulsive rage reaction is more often seen in monster characters, like perhaps a werewolf situation. It sort of adds to the framing that now Wheatley is in control of the facility, he has become something monstrous. Now, judging his patience level accurately is difficult, given that in the beginning he’s in a high-stress, deadly situation and later, when he’s in the chassis, he’s being affected by symptoms of drug withdrawal. However, he is impatient, such as when he’s playing the recorded sound of knocking on a door at the beginning. Granted, he’ll go on ‘knocking’ forever because it’s necessary for the story, but he speaks up every couple of minutes asking if you/Chell are going to open the door already. Again, this is unique for a robot character, as they tend to wait on a player or another character’s actions before responding to it, rather than initiating.

Impressively, these are not all the symptoms Wheatley demonstrates. There is another form of adhd, known as Inattentive-type adhd. The symptoms can include the following;

-Short attention span

-Overlooking details

-Careless mistakes

-Inability to stick to tedious tasks

-Difficulty organizing tasks

-Constantly changing tasks

-Difficulty listening to and carrying out instructions

For having a short attention span, this is again, difficult to determine for Wheatley in a normal setting. In the beginning he’s mostly able to focus, but he’s in a life-or-death scenario. However, he does ramble on about things that have no relevance to what he and the player character are doing, such as when he’s telling the player character about the many jobs he’s had around Aperture and been subsequently released from. He definitely has issues overlooking details, such as when he and Chell are supposed to be dismantling the neurotoxin facilities. While he’s busy ‘hacking’ a computer that may or may not even regulate the facility in the first place, Chell dismantles the generator and he doesn’t even realize she’s doing it at first, because he’s distracted listing off the hardware of the computer. As for careless mistakes, again, this could be simply the situation he’s in, but he definitely makes them. Like when he’s transporting the relaxation chamber in the first chapter, he runs into an unbelievable amount of other relaxation chambers, tearing Chell’s apart. Or even when he’s supposed to be guiding her around Aperture but he dips into wrong corners and has to recorrect. He most visibly has difficulty with tedious tasks when he’s in the chassis, as the facility is literally falling apart because he didn’t bother reading the manual or taking care of the massive amount of upkeep the facility requires. But again, he’s suffering symptoms of drug withdrawal as well that could be affecting his ability to do that. However, given his descriptions of his job loss, mentioned above, we can gather that this is likely an issue he had before ever being a part of the core transfer. This also is in line with difficulty organizing tasks. As for constantly changing tasks, again, he has somewhat better focus in the beginning because if he doesn’t he’ll die, and later he’s exceptionally distracted by a need to test. But even when he should be consumed with the need to test, and he does watch Chell for most of it, he does stop watching randomly at times to do… Who knows what. When it should be the only thing he can focus on. As for difficulty listening to and carrying out instructions, again, the facility falls apart and Wheatley kept being fired for similar, if not the same reasons.

So. That covers basic symptoms and how Wheatley fits pretty much all of them. But, a lesser known side effect of adhd is that it can easily lead to the development of other neurodivergent disorders such as anxiety and depression. Adhd is also linked to something known as emotional dysregulation. Wheatley clearly exhibits signs of anxiety. He’s terrified of dying, and says as much at several points. Not only is he especially scared of dying, but he’s scared of judgment, too. He’s constantly trying to seem more important or smarter than he is, and even though Chell is a silent protagonist, when he takes over the facility before being affected by the testing withdrawals, he assumes she’s been secretly plotting against him the entire time. Depression is more difficult to spot in Wheatley, as he’s not lethargic, but, again, a high-stakes situation can allow a person to mask their symptoms for a brief period out of self-preservation.

However, I do want to point out he clearly displays emotional dysregulation, and not in the way one might expect from a robot character. Wheatley is exceptionally sensitive to criticism. When GLaDOS begins her spiel about him being an intelligence dampening sphere, he moves as far away he can from her, turning his back so he doesn’t have to look at her. He even goes so far as to say “Not listening!” while she’s saying it. Then when she calls him a moron, he reacts violently, in a way he hadn’t so far in the game before that moment. He smashes her through the glass of the elevator and then, when she proceeds to call him a moron again, is when he smashes PotatOS and Chell into the pit. However, he doesn’t even need to even be actively insulted to react to perceived insults as just as much of a threat to his psyche. As mentioned earlier, despite Chell being a silent protagonist, and in some ways because Chell is a silent protagonist, Wheatley assumes that she’s been plotting against him from the start. Her perceived attacks against him are most especially notable during the boss fight. He points out that she’s always quiet, assuming that she’s “silently judging” him. He points out that she didn’t catch him when he fell off of his management rail in the beginning, and that she didn’t warn him that she was the one who killed GLaDOS.

All in all, Wheatley is a beautifully three-dimensional character, not in spite of being a robot, but rather, in some ways, because of it.

#I mayyyy come back and edit this some more later #but for now have this #English major strikes back #chell portal #wheatley portal 2 #portal 2 #character analysis #adhd coded

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warping-realities · 3 months ago

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Hey, guys! It's me again, just dropping in to say (AGAIN) that the last story was the last one for a while. But take that info with a grain of salt because tomorrow I might get hit with another idea and whip something up. Honestly, I’ve been writing to relieve some stress, but now things just got real—my first exam is in a week, and after that, I’ll have almost an exam a week until the end of November, so this time, my claim might actually hold true.

I still got a story from the βΓΦ universe ( I take this opportunity to thank the incredible Johnbrand) to post and a few sequels to write, but I ain't got any timelines for that.

Wish me luck on my exams, and as a little gift, here’s an unused gif from the last story, made before I nailed down the direction it was gonna take. I scrapped it because, besides not fitting the story, I hated what happened with Wardo’s shorts.

Catch you later!

#male tf #mind change #reality change #jockification #mental transformation #corruption #race change #musclegrowth

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withlove-xixi · 4 months ago

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— ANIMAL INSTINCT: laios x monster!reader

ᥫ cw: monster reader (thats it) ᥫ wc: 2874 ★ the idea came into my head like a prophecy from god lol + take this w a small grain of salt bc i havent actually read dunmeshi yet so idk if there's a monster like this in the story + idk what this type of monster is called? there's a term i know for it, but it's too specific and i kind of want you guys to have the liberty of imagining things (it will make sense in the fic + i explain things in the replies lol) cross posted on ao3

— LAIOS ACCIDENTALLY MAKES A NEW FRIEND

[♡]: laios knows that when he finds the rest of his party, he'll be scolded for getting separated in the first place (undoubtedly by Chilchuck). laios also knows that when he finds the rest of his party, he'll be scolded for dislocating his shoulder (undoubtedly by Marcille). laios also also knows that when he finds the rest of his party, he'll get scolded for bringing back a monster (possibly by everyone).

BEING ALONE IN THE DUNGEON WAS DANGEROUS; it was the thought ringing at the back of Laios' mind as he stumbles around, one arm limp from injuring during his fall and the other clutching onto it lightly, prepared to draw his sword at any given moment. He's not scared though, quite the opposite actually, Laios is excited. It's very rare he gets to explore the dungeon on his own, now he has the freedom to do as he pleases, to study different plant life and architecture, and of course, his favorite, monsters.

His heartbeat accelerates at the thought of running into one as his mind begins to wonder what it might be. Perhaps a new type of slime he hadn't encountered yet, or a rare type of mushroom found only in certain levels, or—

There's a chill that runs down his spine, the echoing voice of Chilchuck in his head telling him to get himself together first before he dies and gets eaten.

With a sigh, Laios listens to the disembodied voice of Chilchuck, dragging him and his belongings away from the rubble to assess the situation first. He took quite the fall, managing only to survive because he was quick enough to use his sword, wedging the blade between the crevices of the dungeon walls and it to slide down a bit, minimizing the intensity of his fall. Though he still dislocated his shoulder, it's nothing a bit of healing magic couldn't fix. And things definitely could’ve gotten worse, he could’ve died when he fell and his party could’ve never found him and he might’ve never been resurrected. Besides, Laios was always one to focus on the silver-lining; for one, he’s finally alone after traveling with his party for nearly weeks. He feels free, finally able to think and do as he pleases, something that’s become a privilege when he travels with his friends (though even now, the chiding voice of Chilchuck echoes in his head again, Laios could almost feel the half-foot’s presence.)

In any case, imaginary Chilchuck is right. If Laios stayed out in the open like this, he’d surely die. So he decides to explore a bit more to find a more secluded area to rest in. His feet take him deeper into the dungeon, into a dark corridor he normally would’ve had no problem going in had he had Marcille’s light, but this time he’s going in blind. Quite literally too. A chill runs through his spine and Laios’ good hand stays on the hilt of his sword, drumming his fingers against it as he continues to walk.

Now more than ever, Laios thinks about the importance of his party, the roles each member plays like cogs in a clock to keep each other safe and move forward in the dungeon. Laios, as happy as he is to have time to himself, misses his party — his friends. He longs for their company, he realizes how cold the confines of the dungeon’s stone walls are now that the warmth of his friends doesn’t surround him. As dejected as he might be about suddenly missing his companions, Laios focuses that energy into finding his way back to them, a newfound determination to make it back safe and go on as little detours as possible.

With perfect timing too because there’s a sudden sharp sound behind him, like the snap of a twig, that makes him instantly draw his sword and turn in the direction. It renders useless however with the way his eyes aren’t able to catch even a speck of light. With an accelerating heartbeat, Laios cautiously moves forward, sensing he's not alone in the dark and something is definitely watching him. He feels the unseen eyes follow his movements. But Laios can tell whatever it is has no intent to harm him, not yet at least, so he continues forward.

Perhaps it’s a small monster, he thinks, though he’s trying to be careful not to let his mind wander too much. Maybe it thinks I’m a predator.

The thought makes his stomach flutter in the slightest, allowing a small smile to grow on his face. It’s the same thought that comforts him as he ventures a bit further for what felt like hours, walking forward and carefully going over rubble before eventually tiring himself out. His limbs feel limp, sluggish even as if he had begun to drag his body to push forward. Lady Luck must’ve been on Laios’ side however — or was it that she took pity on him? — because he found himself in a clearing. The hallway had led to a small residential looking area, dimly lit with just one torch lighting the whole room, a small broken dining table and what seemed to be the remnants of a living space scattered around the vicinity.

Relieved, Laios sets his backpack down, hissing when its weight is shifted onto his bad shoulder. Quickly, Laios digs through his belongings, searching for some spare cloth to create a makeshift sling for his arm, though a small frown grows on his face, his eyebrows furrow and he’s met with disappointment as he realizes he’s not carrying his backpack. A black long sleeved shirt, a pair of socks, lock picking tools … Laios could hear Chilchuck’s angry voice ringing in his head again, scolding him for making the mistake.

But Laios isn’t one to let these things bring him down. He mutters an unheard apology to Chilchuck as he takes the half-foots shirt, wrapping it over his shoulder and under his forearm, tying it tight enough it’s able to support the weight of his limp arm. It’s a bit too short but it would have to do for now. He winces, but only at the thought of the long sermon Chilchuck would have for him once he reunites with the rest of his party.

For now, Laios pushes the terrible thought of his impending doom away as exhaustion begins to lull him to sleep. He unfurls his (Chilchuck’s) bedroll and sets it near the torch, then he drags his (Chilchuck’s) backpack next to it. His stomach grumbles, a sudden piercing pain that feels like a punch in his gut; it’s his body telling him he’s hungry.

Not to worry! He thinks and mutters a second unheard apology as he begins rummaging through Chilchuck’s belongings for something to eat.

Though the more he digs through various changes of clothes and pouches of things he dare not know what of, Laios grows a bit more frustrated each time he pulls out something inedible. The closest thing he found to food was a small tin flask hidden in a pocket inside the bag; knowing Chilchuck, it was probably alcohol, and knowing Chilchuck, Laios was certain he’d be killed if he drank it. Not that it was tempting though, Laios was hungry after all. And he wasn’t too big of a fan of drinking anyway.

With a sigh, Laios decides the best choice would be to sleep through it and find something to eat in the morning. He grumbles to himself, something about his tummy hurting and how he hated waking up hungry. Regardless, he lays on the bedroll, shutting his eyes tight, ignoring the sounds his stomach is making, and allowing exhaustion to take over his body.

He smells something, it’s what causes his brows to twitch. Laios can’t tell if he’s even slept yet (he assumes he has since he feels less tired), but the smell causes him to stir. It’s something… strange. In a way, it feels familiar, something homey and comforting like the old books he used to love reading or the earthy scent of dewy grass. At the same time, something about it was new, something unique that Laios hadn't encountered before. His curiosity was piqued, though he was half-certain he was still dreaming.

That was until he felt something prod against his lips. Half-asleep and against his better judgment, Laios parts his lips slightly, coaxed by whatever was against them, and feels a warm liquid pour into his mouth. The taste matches whatever smell came before it, something a bit earthy or grassy and there was something else he wouldn't quite decipher. When he swallows and feels its warmth go down his throat, he realizes he is very much not dreaming and sits up, a bit too quickly since his vision immediately blurs. There was a small noise from somewhere in front of him, something he can't quite make out yet because his eyes haven't focused.

He sees something move, a haze of color reaching out towards him. Laios' hand instinctively reaches for where he left his sword before falling asleep, only to find it wasn't there anymore. Before he could do anything else the colors reached his forehead, something warm pressing against his skin gently. Finally his eyes adjust, focusing on the once blurry figure in front of him to see a person.

Laios opens his mouth to speak, but they're pulling their hand off him and reaching for something next to them. Dots begin to connect as Laios realizes they're holding a spoon, a bowl of what he's guessing is soup next to them. The person brings another spoonful of soup to Laios, who, having woken up hungry, cautiously opens his mouth for them to feed.

They smile gently at Laios when he eats it, seemingly admiring the way his face contorts to try and get a feel of the soup's flavor.

"It's good," Laios says when he realizes you're waiting for a response.

To which you smile a bit brighter and reach to grab another spoonful. While you do, Laios ponders on the taste of the soup, which leads to him wondering where you got the soup, which leads to him thinking about you. Who exactly were you?

Curious golden eyes begin to watch you to try and figure out who you were or where you came from — well, tried to begin because he quickly realizes you're naked. Flustered Laios jolts upright, which startles you. A hand reaches out for Laios' forehead again but he averts his gaze and raises a hand at you.

Confused, you tilt your head and Laios, sensing your confusion, vaguely points at your torso. Which only confuses you more; don't humans normally look like this?

With a frown, you crawl towards Laios, hands clasping around his hands to bring them down, coaxing him to slowly turn back towards you, careful not to look anywhere below your neck. You blink at him, waiting for him to say something.

"Are you not cold?" He asks, slowly like he's worried he'd offend you.

You shake your head and Laios fights the urge to look away again. He looks around the room for a bit before he grabs the blanket from the bedroll and flings it up and around your shoulders.

"At least have this on…" Laios says in a tender manner.

There are lots of questions and thoughts going through Laios' head right now. Who were you? You seemed nice, you didn't try to kill Laios yet, plus you fed him questionable but otherwise tasty soup, but who were you? Were you lost too? Also why were you naked, where were your clothes? If you were lost like him, it doesn't explain the lack of clothes. And where did you get the soup? The room looked like it had a kitchen so maybe it was from there. Oh, did you live here? It would make a bit of sense then, kind of. Also why weren't you talking?

There was the faintest alarm blaring in Laios' head (perhaps his voice of reason, Chilchuck, very furiously reminding him that stranger danger) but curiosity got the best of him, as it usually did. So he asks for your name.

He watches intently as you make gestures with your hands and sound out vowels first before answering. A bit strange, but maybe you just weren't used to talking. If you lived on a floor this deep in the dungeon in a secluded room, it'd make sense.

Laios offers an easy smile. "Do you live here?" He asks, his voice is soft and gentle like he's afraid to scare you.

You pause before nodding. "Some… times." You reply the same way you did with your name, pausing and sounding out the words a bit strange. Maybe you were foreign. He thinks with a curt nod.

You blink at him before returning back to the soup, carefully feeding Laios another spoonful. He continues to think about the situation, about you, really. It's quite easy to pique Laios' interest, but never something that makes him this curious. You'd have to be a monster to do that.

As he thinks, you continue to feed him, wiping away some of the liquid that spills from his lips. He hums as he thinks, and is only pulled from his thoughts when he realizes you're mimicking the noise.

"Oh, uh, thanks for the soup, by the way. How'd you know I was hungry?" He asks, turning his attention back towards you.

In turn, you tilt your head. "So… Sou…?"

"Soup." Laios finishes for you, pointing at the now empty bowl then at his mouth. "Thanks for that."

He senses your understanding with the way you smile at him. Curious.

"Are you from around here?"

You shake your head. Your mouth opens but swiftly closes like you can't really find the words to use.

Laios flashes you a look of sympathy. "It's okay, take your time."

You hum as you think. "Run… here." You reply after a pause.

"Run…? You escaped? From where?"

You hum again, though your face quickly contorts to frustration as you really can't find any way to verbally explain things to Laios. There's a sound that comes from you, something animal.

Laios opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. "Name?" You ask, pointing at him.

"Oh, it's Laios."

"Here?"

"Here…?"

"Why…? Here why?"

"Oh, uh… I got lost."

The conversation goes on like this, slow and patient. You ask questions to Laios the best you could, learning more about him while he learns more about you.

You're shocked when he suddenly points at a pile across the room. "Yours?" He asks.

He could tell from your face his hunch was right. Your eyes widen, mouth slightly ajar. He notices the slight tremble in your hands, the way you look like you're about to run.

"You aren't human, are you?"

Your lip quivers, panic slowly seeping into your veins as fear begins to settle. You had no idea what would happen next.

"Me— I…" You start, voice faltering. "Human!"

Laios looks at you and you can't tell what face he's making but his eyes are intense, golden and piercing. You swallow and shut your eyes tight. Were you going to die?

There's a shuffle, you sense it's Laios getting up, you fear it's to get his sword. Instead you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Here." Laios says, pressing something warm against you. "Must be weird being out of your skin."

Slowly you open your eyes. In his hand is this big fabric like sheet, it's thick and there's a strong musk that comes from it; it’s an animal’s hide. Specifically, your hide.

Shakily you take it in both hands. You look up at the tallman cautiously.

"No —" you hum, thinking "— No… hunt?"

Laios shakes his head. "No hunt." He parrots, voice firm yet gentle, it was reassuring in a way. "Is that why you escaped? You were being hunted?"

You nodded. That made sense; after all, monsters of your rarity have become somewhat of a trophy back up on the surface. You must’ve been hunted down before, probably by other adventurers looking to make some more money.

“I won’t hurt you.” He says so easily it could only be the truth. “I’m… actually really happy to have met you. I’ve heard stories from sailors back then about these seals that could shed their skins and turn into humans. I suppose you’re something like that huh?”

You nod a bit. Then you point at Laios, then back at yourself. “Friend?”

It takes a while for Laios to register what you’re trying to tell him and when he realizes and nearly jumps up, the jolt startles you. “Friends?” He asks, his voice loud and beaming with excitement. “You think we’re friends? You want to be friends?”

You stare at him with furrowed brows before you nod slowly. “Laios friends.”

His hands fly to your shoulders, grabbing you. Confused and a bit frightened, you look back and forth between him and his hands, Laios remains unaware, smiling really brightly at you, his cheeks flushing from sheer excitement.

“I’ve never had a monster friend before!” He tells you, his joy evident in his tone. “You’re my first! Have you had a human friend? Am I your first too? I can’t wait to tell the rest of the party! I’m sure they’ll like you?”

You open your mouth to speak but you’re quickly cut off. “Tell us what, dumbass?”

Oh. Suddenly Laios remembers all the things Chilchuck would scold him for, and he realizes he’s about to add one more thing to that list.

#ꔛ xixi writes #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon laios #laios #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios x reader #laios thorden #dungeon meshi x reader #dividers by cafekitsune

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prozacwhorehouse · 4 months ago

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cooper adams (the butcher) headcannons (sfw and nsfw)

first are just a few general ones bc I can’t really think of this man without it being nsfw🙈🙈

PLEASE go easy on me!! i have never written smut before so i hope it’s good 🙏🙏

barely proofread but readable

- probably an incredible cook. when he cooks, it comes out looking like a professionally made meal. id think it looks and tastes so perfect because he needs it to be perfect - probably throws it away if he adds so much as a grain to many of salt and starts over.

- listens to a lot of 80s music. from bon jovi and madonna to hall and oates and stevie nicks, he’ll always belt out to words in the worst singing voice you’ve ever heard in the car with the windows down, embarrassing riley and logan.

- house is always clean. bed always perfectly made, clothes neatly folded in drawers in colored order. (judging by the way we saw him fix that towel in the bathroom, everything at home needs to look perfect)

- we all know this already, but dad of the year!! fucking loves his kids. always attended riley’s tea parties, raced cars with logan.

- i can’t say that he loves his wife. he seemed more mad to get caught, more than it was his wife who sold him out and who he’d never see again. probably only still with rachel for his kids - he loves them too much and wouldn’t want to complicate their lives, which become complicated in a worse way when he’s caught.

- brings you little gifts all the time. maybe a book you’ve been talking about wanting to read, or a book he recommends to you. if you don’t know he’s the butcher, he’d bring the book to cure your boredom at work, or if you do know he’s the butcher, to keep you entertained while you’re locked in one of his houses 😕

nsfw headcannons 18+, minors dni!!

pretty much just filth

- hires hookers on the reg. like he just has an anger that he can’t show at home, so why not pay a woman to take it 😍on the other hand he’s probably killed multiple of them, couldn’t help himself

- probably wouldn’t kill you. would threaten you with the idea just to scare you, but he wouldn’t. he loves you, he needs you.

- you’re his and only his!! say hello to your new home (one of the houses he bought solely for the purpose of secretly keeping someone I mean you there)😜😜!!

- d word. you have to call him that he won’t accept anything else sorry!! he has control, like i said you belong to him

- brat!tamer through and through!!

- manhandles you he will throw you around on the bed no problem. flipping you on to your back, stomach, what not, moving you if the position you’re in isn’t quite up to his standards, he will move you with FORCE. you’re his toy and let’s be real you’re okay with that

- if youre annoying him he will grab you, throw you on the bed, hold you down, tie your wrists and ankles together, and a scarf is shoved in your mouth and tied harshly behind your head, and he’ll just leave you there. “be quiet,” he slams the door. he can hear your muffled cries from down the hall, but you were distracting him from his work so what other choice did he have than to punish you 🥴

- he’ll come back when he’s done working, could be hours later. he opens the door and you’re laying on the bed, eyes slowly falling shut above your tear streaked cheeks. he comes over and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over to stroke your cheek with his thumb. your eyes flutter open, a small whimper escaping from around the scarf. “i hope you’ve learned your lesson. about distracting me while i work. now should i leave you here for, let’s say, another few hours, or are you going to be a good girl?” you sniffle and nod your head, he smiles and reaches out to pull the scarf down. he makes quick work of releasing your ties, caressing the chaffed marks left on your skin. “im sorry..” you start, your voice small. you sit on the edge of the bed and rub your wrists, refusing to look up at him - you’re almost embarrassed. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.” you hear him smooth out the bedspread behind you. “hey,” he stands in front of you now, holding your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, forcing you to look up at him. “it’s okay. but i need to be able to do my work if i want to keep us safe. you want to stay here with me, don’t you?” you nod, and he pulls you up to your feet. “there she is. let me finish up and then I’ll be in bed soon.” he kisses your forehead and you climb in bed sksjjdndbb

- aftercare is blessed! he’s sweet when he should be - he’ll spread your legs, lift them, do whatever to clean you up with a wet towel. it’s very intricate, he doesn’t miss a spot. hell come with a glass of water, which he holds to your lips for you to sip because he made your body JELLY and you really can’t move. he’ll get in bed and pull you onto his lap so you’re laying on him, legs hiked up on both sides of him. your arms are around his neck, and his hands rest comfortably on your torso. “you took your punishment so well. you’re such a good girl for me.” he’d whisper into your hair and then night night

- he is a serious dom, but there is a mommy kink in there somewhere. he just wants to be held and seen, things he never felt with his real mom. so sometimes you’ll take the reigns..he’s never been harder than when you call him your good boy 😩 and when you hold him?? stroke his hair, he is sat. the “maternal figure” tactic didn’t work on him when Lady Raven tried it, but it would work for you

- loves to hit it from behind. he likes being able to grip your waist so hard it bruises, wrap his hand around your neck to steady himself, grab a fistful of your hair to make you look back at him.

#cooper adams #cooper adams smut #cooper adams x reader #the butcher #the butcher x reader #josh hartnett x reader #josh hartnett #trap 2024 #trap #trap movie

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morphean42 · 3 months ago

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Rewatching Falsettos I was suddenly struck by an epiphany that I’m sure someone else has had at some point, but I needed to write out. This ending scene from “March of the Falsettos” jumped out at me from the first watching, but even though I recognised the nod to the “See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil (and lesser known do no evil)”, I didn’t know what it meant. Today, I tried to piece it together, and I think I’ve gotten it. These poses represent core attributes of the characters, as well as Trina’s view of them, so click the read more to hear the ravings of a mad man wayyyyyy too obsessed with this show

The idea of ‘evil’ to me is very loose. It can represent a lot of things for these characters; their actions towards each other, their character flaws, etc. But, for this analysis, one can replace ‘evil’ with ‘truth’. Each of the characters refuses to see, speak, hear, or ‘do’ the truth (please excuse the lack of grammar for that last one), and that is where the ‘evil’ stems from. Taking into account this is mostly based on Trina’s view of the men, I think ‘truth’ fits in well.

Let’s start with the one who fits in least— Jason. “March of the Falsettos” is a physical manifestation of how Trina views the men in her life (as childish and immature), but some slack is given to her son. He doesn’t sing his lines in falsetto, because we acknowledge he is in fact a child, and has more of an excuse to act as such. So, take his analysis with a grain of salt. The boy has every right to be a little selfish— he’s 10.

So, Jason has his hands over his eyes, representing ‘See No Evil’. This is a direct nod to his character flaw; his view of the world with him at the center. Although his parents are less than good to him, he still sees them through unfair lenses— ‘My mother’s no wife/My father’s no man’. He sings ‘everybody’s yelling and everybody’s ruining it’ in “Everyone Hates His Parents” because he is unhappy with how his Bar Mitzvah is turning out and wants to simply cancel it. He doesn’t have a concept of doing things for other people (again, he’s a child, I’m not blaming him per se), so he is blind to the will of others and refuses to see their side. In addition to this, even when Mendel tells him Whizzer will most likely die, Jason pleads with G-d to save him. He still views himself as the center of his world, thus Mendel’s line ‘Life’s not all about him’.

In addition to this, his ‘See No Evil’ means something when thought about from Trina’s perspective. She thinks her son is blind to the truth of the world, this son who stays inside playing chess alone, this son who ‘seems like an idiot to [Trina]’. She worries Jason will turn out like these other men in her world, blind to everyone but himself.

Now we come to Mendel, who has his hand over his mouth in ‘Speak No Evil’. Mendel’s flaw throughout the show is his refusal to accept the truth of any situation. He tells Jason to ‘feel alright for the rest of your life’ instead of actually trying to help, he is ‘frightened of questions’, he repeats over and over ‘I’ll make you well’ to Whizzer in the hospital. He will never say anything negative, nor will he allow others to do so. Even in the end of the show, he tells Jason they don’t know ‘when or if’ Whizzer will get better— he is still not accepting that it’s a definite thing. He believes that if he and those around him just don’t speak about the real problems, they’ll go away.

Trina’s view on Mendel is complicated here. In the next song she agrees to marry him, of course, and we know she at least likes him (the most of all three adults she knows). She says that Mendel ‘decides the role to assume’. She looks down on the fact that he can’t speak the truth to her, that he’s expecting this happy wife, this perfect new family. He wants her to play along with him and make their home together, even if she sings ‘liking our lives’ instead of loving. Even if he’s better than Marvin ever was, there’s still an element of control here. Mendel wants this family, and he wants them to all pretend nothing is ever wrong again.

Marvin, our titular character, is in the ‘Hear No Evil’ position. This one is fairly straight forward— he wants control and will never listen to the needs of those around him. He can’t hear what they actually need, he simply does what he wants. He also struggles with his masculinity throughout Act 1, his outward misogyny and need for the nuclear family (his treatment of Trina and Whizzer), so he imagines himself at the top of his family system. He will never take any other opinions, or counsel, in his decisions, seeing that as weakness. He’s similar to Jason in this regard, as he only hears what he wants to (like Jason only sees what he wants). He ignores the pain around him to pursue his own desires, he covers his ears and moves on.

Trina, of course, despises Marvin at this point in the show. Her subconscious showing Marvin in ‘Hear No Evil’ can tell us a lot about their relationship, how she was never seen as equal in decisions. Marvin always put her to the side, not listening to her needs, acting without thinking of her.

Whizzer is complicated. I’ve seen people laugh at his pose before, saying we’ve got ‘See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, and Gay’, but I think he represents the ‘Do No Evil’. This final character is not often seen with the other three, and can be depicted with arms over the chest or covering the genitals. It wouldn’t make sense to have Whizzer be the outlier (especially because the fourth depiction of evil does exist), so I’m assuming he is supposed to be ‘Do No Evil’.

This fits in well with Whizzer’s flaws throughout the show. He doesn’t accept responsibility for his relationship with Marvin; seen in the lines ‘I’m not responsible’ during “Late For Dinner” or ‘I will not accept blame’ in “Games I Play”. He sleeps around, despite Marvin wanting monogamy, and clearly did not have an issue hooking up with a married man. Whizzer fundamentally doesn’t think his actions have consequences, he believes he has done nothing wrong (he has done no evil). Whizzer also has a hard time admitting to his love for Marvin. He says it ‘depends on the day’, he flat out says ‘no’ when asked if he loves him. He doesn’t want to show his love for fear of being too vulnerable, so he hides and doesn’t do anything about it.

To take this even further, him being ‘Do No Evil’ can represent his later question of ‘why me of all men’ when he is dying. He hasn’t done anything to deserve his death, and ‘all men get what they deserve’, right?

Moving on to how Trina sees Whizzer. He’s come into her life and ruined her marriage, though she ‘wants to hate him’ she can’t. She views him as the cause of her recent hardships, his actions being to blame. He is ‘Do No Evil’ to her because he has done evil in taking Marvin away (though it is obvious Trina is better off because of it). He has upset the careful balance of her world by breaking down the lies of her marriage and exposing the truth— Marvin never loved her, could never love her. She puts him in ‘Do No Evil’ because what he has done is what the rest of the men won’t— see, hear, speak the truth even at the detriment of her family.

Another way to view this is, of course, the fact that ‘Do No Evil’ is rarely seen with the others. Trina is separating Whizzer from the other men, not putting him in the same category as the rest of the ‘family’. He views himself as an outsider as well, yes he’s part of the group, but only as a technicality. Only as Marvin’s lover. Once he leaves Marvin, he is easily taken out of the equation and the remaining three do not feel the loss.

My conclusion is such: Each of the poses our men do represents the character flaw they must overcome throughout the show, as well as how Trina views them in her mind. I really hope this made any sort of sense, and if someone has already said all of this well… I guess it can’t hurt to be thorough.

I’m way too tired to read through this again so if there are spelling mistakes please print out this post, correct it in red pen, and send it to me by carrier pigeon.

#falsettos #falsettos analysis #jason falsettos #marvin falsettos #the marvin trilogy #whizzer falsettos #whizzer brown #mendel falsettos #mendel weisenbachfeld #trina falsettos #march of the falsettos

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talesofesther · 2 years ago

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this town’s for the record now

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: Distance is a strange concept. Jenna feels no closer to you now than when you actually were on opposite sides of the world. If she missed you any harder, her heart might leap out of her chest and right into your hands.

Requested by @thenextdawn

A/N: Tweaked the idea just a slight bit but I hope you like it, sweetheart. I wrote half of this very much sleep deprived so if anything is weird blame it on that, also take some technical things here with a grain of salt because I know very little about how shooting movies/series works. Much love babes. <3

Word count: 5k (this got out of hand pretty fast)

Masterlist

The airport was bustling with people. Some arriving, tiredness clouding their features along with happiness as they were welcomed by loved ones; others speeding down the halls, suitcases in hand as they rushed to not miss their flights.

Jenna, though her flight was about to leave, was stalling. Her gaze skimmed over the crowd around. Her hands tightly held onto yours, as if you'd disappear if she loosened her grip.

And she wasn't too far off.

You brushed your thumb over the skin on her hand, trying to convey some sense of calmness, "I think it's time for you to go, otherwise the plane will leave without you."

Jenna grinned half-heartedly, swinging your joined hands around as she leaned her head on the wall to her right. "Would it be too bad if I let that happen?"

It was your little moment of peace. This corner of the airport suddenly became your fleeting safe haven for a precious second.

"I think," you started, pulling her towards you so you could wrap her in a hug, "some people would be very mad at you if you missed this flight."

Jenna encircled her arms around your waist, closing her eyes as she nuzzled her face on your shoulder, "I'd be with you though," she mumbled, words muffled against you.

Pulling back so you could look at her, you took hold of her hands again.

Honestly, you were striving to keep a strong facade on, to be the support you knew she needed. But deep down, you were holding back your own tears.

"It'll go by quickly, you'll see."

"It's eight months," Jenna sighed, "all the way on Romania. I'm excited about it, but, I never stayed away this long."

The 'we never stayed apart this long' went unsaid.

And it was true. It made you think for a moment that, to the naked eye, you two could easily be seen as a couple delaying their inevitable goodbye. That wasn't the case though, there wasn't a label to what you and Jenna were. Not yet. And it would have to wait until she came back.

"You'll be alright, I know you will," you encouraged, "you're gonna nail this role. You'll be the best Wednesday this world has ever seen," you smiled proudly, not an ounce of doubt in your words.

It got Jenna chuckling, all teary-eyed and flushed cheeks. "You'll text me every day, right? Call too?"

"Of course I will, I already miss you," you pouted.

She squeezed your hands, "promise?"

"Promise."

—

For those eight months, you kept your promise.

Every day you texted, called, and sometimes video-chatted with Jenna; checking up on her, lifting her mood, or simply talking.

You missed her more than you ever missed anyone in your life, and you could tell she felt the same. But for a while, it was bearable, because you talked every day.

Until Jenna started breaking the pattern.

It started slow, but steady. One unanswered text here, one missed call there, and suddenly you went two or three days without talking to each other.

It was comprehensible, Jenna was working after all. So you didn't think anything of it when the new normal became calling each other every four or five days.

But when those days spaced out, you counted yourself lucky if you heard from her at least once a week, and then every two weeks — her responses short and to the point.

Yet you kept sending her texts; simple 'good mornings' and 'hope you have an awesome day on set'. Because you promised you would, she asked you to.

Even if, involuntarily, you started to feel like a bit of a nuisance to her when she answered you with a plain 'u too' every now and then.

It happened slowly; Jenna became a stranger. A stranger you still loved greatly.

—

Hey Jen, how have you been? I just wanted to let you know that I got the role for that movie I texted you about a few weeks ago. So yeah, I'm very excited. Hope everything is well, I really miss you.

You stared at the message on your phone, your finger hesitating to tap the send button. You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to get rid of the nerves.

Sometimes it hurts, because it wasn't like this — though that reality feels very far away now.

The filming process for Wednesday wrapped almost three months ago. You knew that because right before she left Romania, Jenna had called you, and for a lovely moment, things felt okay; you could hear the tears in her voice when she told you how much she missed you, apologizing over and over for not keeping in touch and saying how much she couldn't wait to be back, promising to come see you soon.

But that never happened.

You haven't seen Jenna ever since you said goodbye to her at the airport, ten months ago.

You guessed that's what distance does to people.

Yet, the stubborn part of you still texts her sometimes, because when you close your eyes all you can see is that teary-eyed Jenna who made you swear to always keep in touch with her. So you do. You tell her about your little bits of progress in the acting career, about some roles you manage to get, and if you're lucky, you'll get a response with 'congratulations'.

As of today, you haven't heard from her in two months. And if you cried about it a few nights ago, that's no one's business.

You understand she's busy, you see it in her on every interview that you watch — because you know her, you know the way her posture changes when she's getting tired, you know her mannerisms when she's nervous, you know when her smile is not the brightest it can be — but you think that, if she felt for you as much as you feel for her, she'd try to keep in touch. She would come to see you.

You pressed send on the message and put your phone back in your pocket the very next second.

Sad as it may seem, you didn't expect an answer.

—

"Hey, wait up."

You looked back over your shoulder, only to see your cast mate jogging up to you in the parking lot, big smile on his face.

"Something wrong?" You asked, adjusting your backpack over your shoulder.

"No, not at all," he told you as he caught his breath, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder, "I just wanted to say, you did really good in there."

You averted your gaze when you felt your cheeks warming up, getting compliments from people infinitely more talented and popular than you would always feel surreal.

"I mean it," he ducked down, searching for your eyes, "that was one of the best monologues I've witnessed in a while."

"Thank you," you chuckled nervously, "it means a lot coming from you."

He waved off your words as if telling you, yet again, to stop putting him on a pedestal. "That being said, I've been meaning to ask if you'd be willing to audition for my next movie."

To say your eyes widened in surprise was an understatement, you asked him to repeat himself and he did; grinning fondly, telling you all about the natural talent you have and how he couldn't forgive himself if he allowed it to go to waste.

You, of course, agreed promptly. And squealed like a schoolgirl once he was out of earshot.

Before you got into your car, you took your cell phone from your backpack, still bubbling with excitement as the offer didn't quite feel real yet.

For a fleeting second, the sight of your last unanswered text when you opened the conversation didn't make your heart clench in pain.

Jenna, you won't believe what just happened…

—

The production of a movie of this caliber wasn't like anything you'd done before; there were so many things going on all at once, so many more people involved, so much more work for you — comes with the territory when playing the main character, you knew that, but still, it was all somewhat new for you.

By the end of most weeks, you were absolutely exhausted.

You pushed open the door of your trailer with a groan, rubbing your temple to try and chase away the beginnings of a headache.

The only lights you turned on were the ones in your little kitchen area, keeping the place dimly lit so it was easier on your tired eyes.

Not bothering to change out of your work clothes for now, you threw yourself on the couch, letting out a sigh of relief when you felt your muscles relax.

Maybe it was the late hour and the vulnerability of your worn-out body; but most nights after a busy day, you found your mind drifting to memories that involved a certain someone. If you closed your eyes forcefully enough, you could pretend to be back there — your shoulder pressed snuggly against hers as she told you all about her day on set, her fingers sneaking to intertwine with yours, the weight of her head when she'd inevitably succumb to sleep against you — memories exist outside of time anyway.

When the screen of your phone lit up, you swore you could almost feel your heartbeat stumbling. You picked it up so fast that it almost fell on your face.

Jenna's name was on your screen, and you hated the way that it brought tears to your eyes.

You hesitated when opening the text, not daring to breathe or get your hopes up.

'That's exciting' was her response to your rather long list of unanswered texts, the last one being the one of you talking about the new movie you're working on.

No 'how are you', no 'I miss you'.

You closed your eyes and felt a tear running down your cheek, typing back the one thing you felt;

Sometimes I wish I had let that plane leave without you.

—

The movie you starred in ended up being the push you needed to be recognized. It was a success, and you were the reason why.

It premiered only a few weeks after Wednesday did. Jenna became known worldwide, and you sort of did too.

And that's what it took for you to finally see each other again.

If someone told you a year ago that you'd be attending the Golden Globes, you'd call them crazy. Yet here you are; timidly smiling as a billion cameras flash in front of your eyes.

And in the midst of greeting acquaintances, posing for pictures, and talking to reporters, your eyes caught sight of her.

She was nothing short of divine, soft pinkish-brown dress fitting her to perfection and her hair way shorter than when you'd last seen her. You didn't think Jenna could ever be more beautiful, but she's apparently always proving you wrong.

It felt like a gravity pull on your heart, urging you to walk closer to her, and if you ditched a reporter or two along the way, you couldn't care less. Your stomach was twirling in apprehension, it shouldn't be but it is, because sad as it feels, you don't know what you mean to each other anymore.

Jenna had her back to you as she spoke with someone you didn't know. You could feel your hands slick with perspiration when you cleared your throat a little awkwardly. She probably didn't hear, so you resorted to lightly tapping her shoulder.

It felt like seeing her for the first time in your life at the same time that it felt like you never parted ways at all. Though there was this painful squeezing in your chest that's never been there before. You smiled softly, breathing out a simple; "hi."

Jenna's eyes widened the slightest bit when she saw you, her lips hanging open when she had trouble forming words; it was a one-second thing, she was quick to recover and get her features back to impassive. Something you knew all too well was a bad habit of hers — suppressing what she's feeling.

"Hi, I- I had no idea you'd be coming," she told you, her eyes unable to find a place to focus on your face.

You pursed your lips, acutely aware of the cameras on every corner of the place. "Yeah, I tried to tell you but, you must've missed my text." The words felt heavy on your tongue, your smile didn't quite reach your eyes.

"I didn't mean-" Jenna's voice broke halfway through and she clamped her mouth shut to avoid a making scene.

It got you looking up to meet her gaze, and there were so many emotions swimming in her eyes that you couldn't put your finger on any of them.

Before you or she could say anything else, a reporter was calling out for Jenna, drawing both of your attention.

Jenna glanced between you and the reporter, before adjusting her posture and managing a smile. "I'll see you later, okay?" She told you, already turning away from you.

"No, Jenna wait, can't we talk?" You tried reaching out for her hand but she pulled away.

"Not right now."

"I just wanted to-"

She glanced back at you, taking hold of her dress in a white-knuckled grip to pull it up so she could walk faster; "I can't deal with you right now, okay? Please stop… crowding me."

Her voice had little emotion to it, but it froze you in place nonetheless. You figured a knife to the heart might hurt less.

Jenna walked away from you, smiling and waving to the cameras whilst you strived to not make the headlines as the actress who cried at the Golden Globes for apparently no reason.

So you were right in the end, she saw you as nothing but a nuisance.

—

There was a team waiting to help her get rid of the makeup and glam if she so wanted, but Jenna sent them away.

After such an event, there was nothing she desired more than peace.

Jenna's steps were slow and dragged as she made her way inside her hotel room, still holding onto her long dress, though with much less care than she did in front of the cameras. Part of it is always an act.

She ran a hand through her hair, messing up the previously perfectly styled waves with a sigh.

The shower had been long awaited and she almost napped on the bathtub; not really bothering to meticulously clean up the makeup, leaving a few smudges of eyeshadow here and there — that could be a problem for tomorrow.

And there was nothing more blissful than putting on sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

Her life has been nothing short of hectic ever since starting the filming for Wednesday, so Jenna enjoyed 200% every little time to relax that she had. Though today, she was restless, something had a tight hold on her chest and she couldn't pinpoint what.

She tossed and turned on her bed, unable to sleep even if she was exhausted and she wasn't sure why insomnia decided to kick in now.

That is, until she took her cell phone and a few clips of the event started popping up on the internet, and she caught sight of a picture where, in the background, she could be seen talking with you.

Oh.

That's where this hollowness is coming from.

The bedroom was quiet, the only things she could hear if she strained her ears were the cars way down on the road outside and the faint drizzle that started falling.

It was so quiet, so calm, that for the first time, Jenna felt it. She felt the weight of the past months downing on her.

Jenna had been running on autopilot, so much so, that she became numb to a few of her own emotions. And maybe a few people too.

There was a sudden lump in her throat. Jenna sat up quickly on her bed, clawing at her chest because she couldn't breathe. She mumbled curses under her breath, vision instantly getting blurred as tears collected on the bottom lid of her eyes.

If this wasn't a panic attack, it was something very close to it.

Jenna scrambled for her phone and hastily typed your number on it, shaky fingers bringing the device to her ears.

She held onto her breath when the line started ringing; and when it rang for the last time, she was already sobbing.

"No, no, no," she stumbled out, trying again, "please pick up, please," the pleas fell out of her mouth with broken syllables.

Distantly, she knew she had it coming, she hadn't been fair with you, or with herself. You were Jenna's weakest point, if she had allowed herself to miss you, she'd drop everything to go back. So she bottled up the feeling.

But sooner or later, it would surface, and it hurts more than she thought it would — because maybe her decision had cost her you.

Jenna wrapped her arms around herself, with tears trickling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin — she felt alone, so excruciatingly alone.

Jenna didn't sleep that night.

—

For the months that followed, Jenna tried calling you multiple times.

You never answered.

—

It didn't take long for Wednesday to be renewed for season two. It also didn't take long for filming to start.

Jenna saw herself going back to staying in a foreign country for months in what felt like no time at all. But this time around she knew what to expect, how to prepare herself for it.

Or that's what she had hoped, because when she stepped foot on set, she was greeted with the sight of none other than you. You who was animatedly talking with Emma as you held a few papers in your hands; a script, Jenna presumed. A script that had Wednesday written on its cover.

Jenna halted on her steps immediately, sneakers scratching against the floor; the grip she had on her backpack tightening significantly. No amount of internal pep talks could ever prepare her for this.

Next thing she knew, Emma had caught sight of her and was walking in her direction with you hot on her tail. Jenna felt like curling into a ball to try and disappear — not because she didn't want to see you, but because of what she did last time it happened. Part of her knows she won't be able to face your rejection without breaking.

"Jenna, you're finally here," Emma pulled her friend into a hug. Jenna held her back promptly, grateful to have something to momentarily hold on to.

"Yeah," she breathed, "it was a- a long flight." She couldn't help the way her eyes darted to you. And you were so… blank, emotionless.

"Have you met our new cast member? This is Y/n." Emma happily gestured to you, taking a step back so Jenna could properly see you.

There was a heaviness in the air, more than a year's worth of bottled-up feelings just hanging on by a thin thread. Jenna gulped back the lump forming in her throat. It was longing and hurt and guilt altogether.

She had never felt this. Missing someone to the point of feeling like your chest is being ripped open, as if they're on the other side of the world even if, in reality, they're right in front of you — just a few inches forward and she'd touch you. Yet it feels impossible.

"Hi," was all Jenna could utter.

You nodded once, with a clenched jaw and crossed arms, "hi Jenna."

—

You were avoiding her.

And it was nothing short of torture.

You were avoiding Jenna, as much as two people who work together can avoid each other, but still, you were doing a terrific job. Jenna only caught glimpses of you when it was absolutely necessary.

She had this hole in her chest; it made her restless and anxious. It's been only a week and Jenna already feels like she can't take it anymore. She knows it's affecting her work; she's not able to focus the way she did before, she finds herself zoning out whilst looking at doorways and waiting for you to walk in — most of the time you never do.

Right now, Jenna is sitting in front of a mirror as she gets her hair done for the day. She arrived a little late today, her sleepless nights finally catching up to her right on a Tuesday morning.

The distant smell of hair spray still hung in the air, the bright lights around the mirror still hurt her sleepy eyes so she keeps them closed, enjoying the feeling of the hairdresser doing her braids. She paid no mind when she heard the door opening or when the chair beside hers creaked. Only opening her eyes when your voice greeted the other people in the room.

Jenna didn't dare breathe. She looked at you through the mirror, your gazes meeting for half a second before you averted yours.

Was it too bad that she already kinda felt like crying?

There was this painful tug on her heart whenever Jenna did see you. It felt like remembering all of your good memories all at once — and they mocked her, told her she'd never have anything like it again.

Distance is a strange concept. She feels no closer to you now than when you actually were on opposite sides of the world.

If she missed you any harder, her heart might leap out of her chest and right into your hands.

You're looking everywhere except at her. It's almost bittersweet that Jenna can tell exactly just how nervous you are. Fidgeting on your seat, tapping your knee.

For a moment she wants to reach out and hold your hand, it used to calm you down, ground you.

She doesn't. Instead, she asks; "have you been enjoying the filming so far?" The words tasted strange on her tongue. Like they're all wrong and it's not what she should be saying to you when there's a ten-foot wall between you and her.

You hesitated, as if wondering if she was really talking to you. "Uh yeah, it's been a great experience so far," you said eventually, choosing to glance up at her through the mirror instead of turning your head to actually meet her gaze.

Jenna smiled, just a soft tilt of her lips.

Every minute that you weren't hers was a minute of pure agony.

And it was hardly the proper place for it, but with not knowing when she'd have the opportunity to speak with you again, Jenna took in a deep breath, and tried; "look, I- I've been meaning to apologi-"

"Not now, Jenna," you cut her off pretty quickly, drawing the attention of the few hairdressers around you. You cleared your throat; "we can talk about this later."

—

Ultimately, there was no 'later'. Jenna couldn't get a moment alone with you after that, and you made no effort either.

But when you love someone enough, you tend to make a few reckless decisions.

Jenna was staying in the same hotel as you, just a few doors away from yours, and she was a good actress.

It was late at night when you unlocked the door of your hotel room. You turned on the lights and instantly jumped back, almost tripping on your own feet; your soul leaving your body for a second.

"What the hell," you mumbled, with a hand over your erratic heart.

Jenna raised her hands and took a step back, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just me."

"How-" you gestured towards her, taking your backpack off your shoulder as the door clicked close behind you, "why-"

"Security let me in… I convinced them," she explained, a faint blush tainting her freckled cheeks as she felt strangely self-conscious under your gaze.

The hotel room wasn't big, quaint with its industrial-styled decorations and orange lighting; but with just the two of you occupying the space, it felt all kinds of intimate.

You scoffed, walking past her and to the bedroom without a second glance, "so much for security."

It hurt, way more than Jenna would care to admit. But part of her knew she brought it on herself. She followed after you, burying her hands in the pockets of her hoodie to hide the slight tremble of her fingers.

Your bedroom was even plainer than the main rooms. All your belongings are pushed to one side and filled only the lonely dresser by the ensuite bathroom door. It reminded Jenna of her own room.

She lazily brought her gaze back to you, her stomach twisting unpleasantly with apprehension; "I just wanted to talk."

Jenna's voice was small, uncharacteristically so, tugging at your heartstrings with each syllable.

This was just Jenna. No actress. No star. Just your Jenna.

You almost gave in right then and there.

But you had your back to her, fidgeting with the zipper on your bag to keep yourself busy. Her presence, her perfume, it filled the whole room, "now you want to talk?"

"I know, I was an- an awful friend to you," Jenna started, unable to stay still on her stance, "I know I should've called more and I'm so-" a sob broke through her voice, you were nothing but a blur in front of her.

"I'm so sorry for what I said," it was nothing but a whisper, said while Jenna hugged herself tightly, chasing some semblance of comfort that wasn't there. Her sudden vulnerability startled you.

You heard it loud and clear, it brought tears to your own eyes, even if you had promised you wouldn't cry anymore.

"That I was just something you had to deal with?" You finally turned to look at her then, and you strived to keep yourself impassive, because Jenna was far from okay.

Her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears that were just a blink away from spilling over. She looked so small in the spacious room. "That's not true. Not what I meant."

"Well, that's what it felt like, okay?" Your months of hurting escaped you, "so I'm sorry I kept my promise and I'm sorry it crowded you but you-" you took in a shaky breath to steady yourself, glancing up at the ceiling then back at her, "you meant a lot to me, Jenna…"

It was all it took for Jenna to break, because she saw herself being back in that airport with your hands holding onto her so tightly — and she missed you, so unbelievably much. She could taste her own tears on her lips, the grip she had on herself was almost bruising as soft sobs shook her body; "You mean everything to me, you have to know that. And losing you…" she hesitated, as if fearing that saying the words out loud made them true, her lower lip wobbling, "there's nothing I regret more."

You almost didn't catch her words given the unsteadiness of her voice. It was too much for you and your bleeding heart. You couldn't physically bear to stay one second more away from her.

You walked closer slowly, tentatively, until you were able to embrace her to you.

Jenna buried herself into you, her tears soaking your shirt as you practically held most of her weight all on your own. She held you so strongly you almost had trouble breathing.

For a moment it was all that was needed, you and her holding what was left of each other together.

"I never meant for it to happen," Jenna whispered against you, damp lips grazing the skin on your shoulder, "I never- I was in a bad place and, after the f-filming for Wednesday wrapped up I got called for so many other things I didn't even have time to breathe." She curled herself onto you, her grip only tightening as if trying to merge you into her so you'd never part ways again.

You ran your hand up and down her back, leaving goosebumps on her skin and feeling your own tears trickling down your cheeks. There's no putting into words how much you're able to miss someone until you're holding them again. Until you can finally come home to each other.

For the first time in more than a year, you could breathe.

"I'm so tired," Jenna's small voice came again, tender, right beside your ear, "everything was so overwhelming, I- I felt so alone," she nuzzled her nose against your neck, and you wondered for a moment how long it's been since she allowed herself to receive any kind of comfort.

A beat passed until you were able to find your voice again, a little hoarse and unsteady; "you could've told me, I would've been there, Jenna. You know I would've done anything and more to help you."

With a sniff, Jenna finally pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes, "I know," she pursed her lips, one hand coming up to brush at her cheek, damp with tear tracks — testimonies of her wounded heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.

With your silence, Jenna kept going, if anything, out of desperation; "I'm so sorry, please I- you must know I never meant for it to go like that."

Teardrops clung to her eyelashes too, eyes shining brightly under the dim lights of the bedroom and her nose a little red. Oh, how you missed her.

You gently raised your hands to her cheeks, your thumbs brushing away a few tiny tears that still escaped her. "It's okay," you breathed.

"Please don't leave me," she mumbled, a soft sob cutting through.

"Not leaving," you promised, leaning up to kiss her forehead, "I'd never leave you."

When her eyes found yours again, Jenna stumbled forward out of instinct, her nose bumping yours.

You closed the gap with the encouragement you knew she needed, "you know I'm never capable of staying mad at you for too long," you chuckled, your lips grazing hers. You were home.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Jenna’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @thenextdawn @alexkolax @aahdiieb @mindingmybidness12 @melthedwarf @smugchorizo @the-lazy-turtle @vorsdany @jjsmaybank20 @wol-fica @v1ci0us

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x you #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna x reader #my story

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