#dewey finn x beetlejuice x reader

[imagination-phantom]

I really like the meme I’ve been seeing on my social media lately that says, “do you really like that character or is he just played by Alex Brightman?” Like AHA!? OK FIRST OFF!? Attacked. But also, looks at Beetlejuice, Dewey, Fizzoralli, and Adam. Like …. TEEHEE!

[musical-shit-show]

hi, I love the way you write dewey finn so much!! may I request #18 from prompt list 2 and/or “you are terrible at this.” from prompt list 3 for him please?

close enough to touch

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: #18 (“it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways.”) from Prompt List 2 and #36 (“you are terrible at this.”) from Prompt List 3, requested by anon

Warnings: Awkward flirting, fluff

Word Count: 2,370

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long, anon! I was really struggling with this one but I hope you like it! I’ve been meaning to write some post-School of Rock Dewey, and if people like this I wouldn’t mind doing another teacher!Reader one shot. So please let me know if this is something y’all like in the comments and reblogs! Also, check out my Masterlist, Prompt Lists, and About Me page, and submit an ask! It might take me a little bit longer with some requests but I promise to always make those my priority. I’m also working on my Beetlejuice series (to fill the void of course) so hopefully there will be more chapters of that coming soon. Thanks to everyone who’s supported my writing so far and enjoy!

“Don’t look now, but he’s staring at you again.”

“Who?”

“The music tutor.”

You decided to not look up from your coffee mug, the creamer you had just poured swirling slowly. It was the end of your second week at Horace Green, and Mrs. White had quickly taken you under her wing.

The teacher’s lounge was buzzing with activity, since the second Friday of every month meant free pastries from the local artisanal bakery. Apparently incentivizing the molders of young minds with sugar and fat never failed.

You placed an almond croissant on your plate, trying your best to stay discreet, “What’s his name again? Danny?”

Mrs. White laughed lightly, “Dewey,” she said with the smallest hint of disdain, “He’s the one I was telling you about last week. The one who impersonated a substitute last semester.”

Your jaw fell open slightly, and you decided to get another look of this guy. Turning from the spread of baked goods, your eyes wandered over to the other side of the room, where you saw the culprit averting his gaze from your direction.

He was, in a word, unkempt. His clothes were mismatched and ill-fitting; the button-down shirt hiding under his loud sweater vest was about half a size too large, and his dark jeans looked half a size too small. Most of the male teachers at Horace Green typically wore sport jackets and khakis, or at least a tie. Clearly Dewey didn’t get the memo.

His hair was also rumpled, dark brown and wavy and spurting in all different directions. You guessed he had rolled out of bed without running a brush through that mess, let alone even looked in the mirror.

You also noticed a significant amount of stubble growing on his round face, finishing off the whole scruffy vibe he had clearly committed to. He was almost…cute. His eyes were the same color as your coffee, deep brown with a touch of lightness.

“Not to state the obvious, but isn’t that a crime?” you murmured, trying to be discreet as you gossiped with your co-worker.

She answered with an eyeroll. “Of course it is,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. She took it black, two sugars. “But Rosalie—Ms. Mullins—decided to not press charges and hired him instead. Caused quite an uproar, but the students love him, so…”

You peered at him again curiously. Dewey was had just finished scribbling something in his notebook, breathing a heavy sigh as he slouched back into the plastic chair.

“I wouldn’t get involved if I were you,” Mrs. White warned, clearly noticing your interest in him, “From what I’ve heard, he’s nothing but trouble.”

You nodded. “Believe me,” you lied, “I know when to stay away.”

~oOo~

A sigh of relief left your chest the second the final bell rang at 3:15 that day. Teaching 10 and 11-year-olds how to structure essays all day really drained you, no matter how polite and well-behaved they were.

You gathered your belongings quickly and were walking briskly to your car when you heard your name being called behind you. You turned to see Dewey, and you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows. He was carrying what looked like stacks of sheet music.

One misstep and he’d be picking up papers until sundown. 

“Uh, hi,” he said as he caught up to you, the cold January air making his breath visible. He attempted to extend his arm for a handshake, but retracted when the heaps of music in his one arm began to falter. “I’m uh, I’m Dewey. Or ‘Mr. Finn’ as the kids say, but you can call me Dewey.”

Looking at him more closely, you decided he was even cuter than you first thought. With Mrs. White’s warning ringing in your ear, a part of you wanted to turn the other way, tell him you were in a hurry to get home, make up some excuse to not get involved.

But it was clear he was interested in you, and you’d be lying if you weren’t at least a little intrigued. And besides, it’d be rude to not at least introduce yourself, right?

“Hi, Dewey,” you parroted, giving him another once over. “I see you already know my name.” He was already flushed from the cold, but his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Right, well, I got it from the staff directory. Just…wanted to introduce myself. I teach the kids music after school most days.”

“I know who you are,” the statement came out colder than you intended, “I did see you this morning, do you make a habit of hanging out in the teacher’s lounge?”

He gulped. “No,” he answered, “No, I just…I had a meeting with Rosalie this morning about the spring concert.”

Pure enough excuse. However, Mrs. White had also let it slip that he and Ms. Mullins apparently had a fling a few months prior, which only intrigued you more. What was so special about this guy that he could avoid a criminal trial for identity theft and date his boss in one fell swoop?

“I see,” you said coyly, trying to scrutinize him without being too obvious, “And are you and Rosalie…close?” If Dewey’s face was pink before, it had now turned to an embarrassing shade of scarlet.

“Oh, um, no,” he said, clearly flustered. “Nope. She’s a great…lady. And really cares about the kids. But…no. Not very close.” You nodded, completely unconvinced. You didn’t want to believe the gossip, but with a response like that, how could you not at least consider that it could be true?

Dewey shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his grip tightening on the sheet music. “We kissed,” he blurted, exhaling heavily, “Like, twice. She’s great but…I’m single. Very single.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his honesty. It was oddly refreshing. “Should I be taking that as some kind of hint?” you flirted, smiling softly. You couldn’t care less that your nose and fingertips were growing red from the cold.

“Only if you want,” he said, a shy smile dancing on his lips. Panic overtook his features only seconds later. “I mean, shit, not to be too forward or anything—”

“You know, you are terrible at this,” you said, cutting him off. Dewey flashed an embarrassed grin, letting out another breathy laugh, “How about I just give you my number and we just go from there?”

The two of you quickly exchanged digits and walked to your respective cars separately, unknowingly sharing excited smiles that lasted all the way home.

~oOo~

A few weeks later, you found yourself sticking up flyers for the School of Rock’s annual midwinter concert after the final bell had rung. Dewey had somehow roped you into posting the brightly colored papers on every corkboard, chalkboard, and section of blank wall space in the school.

“I thought you’d be headed home by now,” you heard Mrs. White call from down the hall. You jumped slightly, the haughty timbre in her voice surprising you.

Plastering on your most innocent smile, you turned to face your colleague. “I will be soon,” your voice was dripping with saccharine sweetness, “Just hanging these flyers and then I’m home free.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “Any big weekend plans?” You shook your head, turning back to the wall where you stuck up another flyer. You hoped she would just walk past and be none the wiser.

Mrs. White approached you, skeptical. You were friends, sure, but she was old enough and smart enough to know when someone was hiding something.

And unfortunately for you, as soon as she caught a glimpse of exactly which flyers you were hanging up, it all clicked.

“I thought I made it very clear that Mr. Finn was nothing but trouble,” she said, sounding eerily like a disapproving mother. Despite your heartrate increasing rapidly, you remained calm.

An incredulous scoff left your lips as you placed your free hand on your chest, “Mrs. White,” she rolled her eyes at you using her surname, “I was simply assisting another educator in promoting a fundraiser for this school that seeks to promote the arts and enrich our students’ lives.”

“Did you rehearse that?”

“A little. But I mean it, Mr. Finn has been nothing but professional. We’ve barely even spoken outside of planning the concert.”

That was a lie, of course. The truth was, ever since you and Dewey had exchanged information, you had texted and called and even met up a few times outside of school. Of course, they couldn’t exactly be called dates—at least that’s what you told yourself.

He seemed nervous around you at first, sure, but as soon as you got to know him, that faded away and you were left with a carefree, albeit scatterbrained work buddy. And despite the occasional flirt, it was clear that he wasn’t as interested in you as you first thought.

Which only crushed you the tiniest bit.

Mrs. White glanced at the colorful flyer again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Well, of course I’ll be there to support our students’ artistic endeavors,” she said, a small smirk on her lips, “But don’t think I still don’t have my eye on you.”

You could tell she wasn’t being completely serious, but a small shiver of fear still wracked your spine as she walked towards the exit, the click clack of her pumps echoing on the linoleum tile.

You called goodbye sweetly, playing your role as nothing more than a helpful new teacher who was just excited about music education. Stapling up the last piece of paper onto a mostly bare bulletin board, you couldn’t help but overhear the noise of excited chatter coming from the music room down the hall.

The door was closed, but you managed to sneak a peek through the tiny window to see Dewey chatting with the bassist, who was about the same size as her as instrument. You felt a grin creeping onto your face.

Dewey’s passion for music came out the most when teaching the kids; even after watching him play a gig at the Roadhouse, you never saw his eyes light up more than when he was in that practice room.

You turned away and took a few steps toward the exit when you heard the door creak open, the chatter growing louder before muffling again. “Are you spying on me or something? You’re already getting into the concert for free, ya know.”

Dewey’s voice was more hoarse than usual, the gruffness making your stomach flip. “Not spying,” you teased, glancing over at the bulletin board, “Just doing your job for you.”

He clutched his heart dramatically, “You wound me,” he smirked, “But seriously, thanks for doing this. Hopefully we can drum up some more buzz.” You waved off his praise.

“No trouble. Consider us even since you had to suffer through listening to me babble on for way too long last night.” You two had made a habit of call each other late at night, which only confused your feelings even further. Your brain couldn’t decide if you were just co-workers, friends, or something more.

Apparently, Dewey couldn’t decide either.

“It’s okay,” he replied, running a hand through his messy waves, “I couldn’t sleep anyways.” He bared a toothy smile, wiping his palms on his dark jeans. His casual remark was innocent enough but still found a way to make your heart ache.

You decided the best course of action was to turn the attention away from yourself. “Well, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble with attendance,” you said, referencing the brightly colored flyer again, “From what I hear your kids are incredible.”

He beamed like a proud parent. “Yeah, yeah they are,” he said, “And thank you for spreading the word. Some teachers around here still aren’t too keen on me, after, well…everything.”

You felt yourself frown, your mind flashing to Mrs. White’s warnings. From what you could see, everyone had misjudged Dewey. He was kind, passionate, albeit far less put together than the other Horace Green staff, but he loved teaching and he loved those kids.

Wasn’t that enough to take a chance on?

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I did have big plans with my couch and a shitty movie, but—”

“You and me. Tonight. Roadhouse.”

“Okay?” he laughed, taken aback by your abruptness.

“And this is a real date, Finn,” you added. “No take backs.” A look of panic flashed across his face, and for a split second you wondered if you had made a terrible miscalculation. But how could you not take matters into your own hands after his weeks of mixed signals?

Before you could open your mouth to apologize profusely for stepping way over that friendship line, Dewey grabbed your arm lightly, pulling the two of you around the corner and away from the only occupied classroom on a Friday afternoon.

And he kissed you.

Softly at first, so gently that you felt yourself melting into the cold painted cinderblock wall as he grabbed your waist. Prep schools weren’t designed to be the most romantic of places, but perhaps that was for the best.

Nevertheless, you let your eyes flutter shut as your lips molded to Dewey’s, your breath hitching in your throat.  After a few seconds he pulled away, a shocked look on his face that surely mirrored yours.

“Sorry,” he muttered, a smirk creeping its way onto his mouth, “Surprised myself with that little stunt, huh?” You nodded as he peeled himself away from you. You instinctively checked your surroundings, but you were alone.

“Dewey, are you insane—”

You wanted to be angry with him for risking both of your jobs, but the fluttering in your heart was overwhelming. One thing was for certain, there was no mistaking that signal.

“I just, I couldn’t wait until tonight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “But yes. I’ll see you tonight. No take backs.”

You smiled as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and watched as he happily sprinted back to his students.

*****

thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed!

read part 2 here!

[littledanette]

so I was wondering

if I told you I'd finished writing Teacher's Pet (took me long enough, i know, lol)

...would you still be interested in reading it orrr??

for context - Teacher's pet part 1 here

[hoodoo12]

Jobby

Seeing the tour sparked an idea . . .

NSFW, mostly PWP. Beetlejuice x Dewey Finn x gen neutral reader! Established throuple.

Both the Bman and Dewey are Collette-flavored.

Enjoy!

You’d gotten used to lots of loud noises in the apartment: guitar (played pretty well), drums (played poorly but with enthusiasm), video games of mostly the first-person shooter type, and the occasional “discussions” that were “passionate.” And snoring. All of that was a typical day in a household with a rocker who had a part time job as a teacher and a ghost who had a full time job (he said) as a bio-exorcist.

You had no idea what a bio-exorcist’s job actually entailed, since Beetlejuice mostly seemed to hang out at Dewey’s place.

But that was neither here nor there at the moment. Silence in the apartment didn’t necessarily mean peaceful, especially if the two of them were giving each other the old passive-aggressive ignoring each other like they were five year olds throwing a combined tantrum.

It could mean Dewey was asleep and Beetlejuice was leaving him alone, however. So instead of calling for either of them, you moved quietly from the door down the hallway, where it opened up into the living room. 

Dewey was on the couch but most definitely not sleeping. On the floor in front of him, on his knees, kneeled the ghost. While Beetlejuice had discarded his jacket and his suspenders had been pushed off his shoulders, every other piece of his standard ensemble was present. Dewey’s t-shirt, however, was rucked high on his chest, all the way up to his collar bones. Even from across the room you could tell his nipples had had attention; they were darker than normal and still pebbled. His pants were turned inside out with his underwear caught inside; all of that mass of clothing happened to still be attached to one ankle.

Neither noticed you spying. Eyes closed, Dewey’s head tipped back to the cushion behind him. His free hand splayed on his own bare thigh, his fingers leaving indents in the flesh; the other had threaded into the mess of Beetlejuice’s hair. Beetlejuice himself had both arms under Dewey’s thighs, wrapped around his legs, hoisting his hips slightly upward. It was a position designed to give him better access; you knew that because the specter had wrapped you up in the same hold when he used his mouth on you. Dewey had managed to lift one leg over Beetlejuice’s shoulder. From past experience you also knew that was a common trick Dewey did to keep his lover close while being sucked off.

Soft wet sounds matched the smooth bobbing of Beetlejuice’s head. Dewey matched them with moans, a combination that could have been obscenely lewd if the two of them weren’t so obviously enjoying themselves.

To see Dewey, someone who hid his low self-esteem with a sour-grapes mentality like he didn’t actually care, simply allowing this to happen was a big step. Typically he’d insist on something mutual; his self-worth could be tied to making sure he gave, even if giving went against his own wants and needs. For him to sit back and relish the attention made you smile.  

Minutely, Dewey relaxed. His hand gave a little push downward on Beetlejuice’s head, and the specter began blowing him again.

And for Beetlejuice, as crude and as demanding as the ghost could be, for him to be so attentive without immediate satisfaction was a big step forward too. From the flush that had bloomed on Dewey’s chest, he’d been going down on him for a while, not a speedy wham-bam-thank-you-man-now-it’s-my-turn kind of ambush. Slow and deliberate, his head moved steadily and you could only imagine the amount of spit that pooled under Dewey’s legs. At least they put a blanket down first.

It wasn’t often sex in the household was a twosome. Even if it started between just two, the third party would be welcomed in. You found that being able to watch, however, gave you vicarious arousal in the pit of your stomach. To see the Dewey and Beetlejuice so soft, so intimate, was a special treat. Even if your hand did wander down between your legs.

Dewey gasped a little louder and dropped his head. “Oh, I-I’m gonna come!” he said in a strained voice.

Beetlejuice paused at the top of his motion, giving Dewey a moment to collect himself. Although you were across the room, you knew the feeling of his cock throbbing in your mouth, seconds away from ejaculation. You knew that even though he stopped, Beetlejuice couldn’t hold completely still; his tongue was most likely flicking the head of the cock between his lips. You didn’t know if Dewey was so far gone that minor licking stimulation would be enough to send him over the edge--

fin--

You wasted the opportunity to step back, out of sight, during those seconds. Since you’d held your breath in anticipation and didn’t, when Dewey opened his eyes he saw you standing there.

Instead of acting embarrassed or ashamed they’d be caught, he stretched out the hand not tangled in Beetlejuice’s hair to you. Quickly, you crossed the room and settled beside him on the couch. Your arousal increased as though the carnal activity of the two of them fed you.

Beetlejuice’s eyes had been closed too, but at the shifting of the cushions he lifted them to yours. His typically smokey blue eyes were almost completely eclipsed by his pupils, showcasing his own lust as well. If you turned to look at Dewey, you knew his eyes would look the same. You’d marveled before how their eyes matched. But you couldn’t draw your gaze away from Beetlejuice; his lips formed a perfect seal around Dewey’s cock and, as you’d expected, his lower jaw and Dewey’s pubic hair were shiny and soaked with excess spit. As the specter continued with his eyes locked on yours, his cheeks hollowed and relaxed during various parts of his up-and-down cycle.

“He looks so good, sucking you off,” you said, reaching forward to push your hand through the the rat’s nest that was Beetlejuice’s hair as well.

“Mmm-hmm,” Dewey agreed. Apparently those four stuttered words he’d uttered were the last he could string together.

Beetlejuice hummed too. You’d have expected him to throw his voice or switch to a hand--not one holding Dewey’s legs, of course! Just a third hand from out of wherever!--on Dewey’s cock so he could answer you properly. He didn’t. For him to be so intently focused at the task at hand, er, in mouth made you smile at the two of them again.

You hadn’t meant to interrupt and didn’t want to distract. Still, you put your head down on Dewey’s chest, your ear over his heart, and watched. Beetlejuice didn’t drop his gaze, keeping it firmly on yours even as his pace increased. With Dewey’s heart rate matching the suck and pull at his cock, even though literally nothing was happening to you the sound in your ear and the ghost’s direct stare made your lower stomach and groin tingle. You wouldn’t have ever thought you had a voyeuristic bent, but you couldn’t deny how much you liked it.

This time when Dewey announced he was going to come, Beetlejuice didn’t stop. Finally breaking eye contact with you, he took Dewey all the way to his balls and held there. If you’d had your hand under his jaw you were sure you’d have felt him still moving his tongue against the cock buried in his mouth, but you stayed as still as the other two.

After a moment when everything was completely still, Dewey groaned loudly as every muscle tensed. Beetlejuice remained frozen, you didn’t move, both of you allowing Dewey to enjoy his orgasm to the fullest. Only after he began to relax again did the specter gently back off his cock.

Shiny and throbbing in time with his heartbeat, Dewey’s cock fell back to his dripping pubic hair. Knowing he could be extra sensitive after he came, you made a mental note to get up to retrieve a tissue in a moment. Before then, you moved your hand from the side of Beetlejuice’s head and brought your fingers down along his jawline. It was slick with spit.

Beetlejuice grinned and kissed your palm, then made a show of wiping his beard in your hand.

“Gimme a kiss, baby? For a job well done?”

You leaned forward to give him his reward. Just before your lips met his, however, he said,

“I meant Dewey. But you’ll do.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him anyway, dipping your tongue between his lips to savor the earthy flavor combination of him and Dewey mixed together.

“I bet Dewey’ll kiss you if you get a Kleenex,” you suggested.

Beetlejuice sighed, “I have to do everything around here,” but there was no irritation behind it. He pushed away from the couch and went to find a box.

Splayed and mostly undressed, Dewey hadn’t opened his eyes yet. His cock had started becoming softer, with a thin line of post-climax come oozing from the tip.

“Gonna take a nap, Finn?”

“Sounds good,” he murmured.

“Well, clean up first and then you can snooze. I’ll wake you for dinner.”

Sleepily he asked, “Is it my birthday?”

“Nope. Just happy Dewey Finn day.”

He cracked open his eyelids just enough to see you, smiled and nodded.

nope

(that would be the end, except Beetlejuice overheard the whole, “happy Dewey Finn day” and shouts from the other room, “What about me?!” So you agree to take care of his “needs”--which is always the same thing, a little suck, a little fuck, a little desperate discussion as to if he should come inside you or on you--while Dewey naps. Then later in the evening, both of them ambush  you and give you the best spiritual rogering you’ve ever had.)

[brightmonsterr]

I WANNA START WRITING ON HERE PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS FOR DEWEY FINN (MOVIE OR MUSICAL) OR BEETLEJUICE (PREFERABLY MUSICAL BUT MOVIE AND CARTOONS FINE TOO)

im fine w nsfw im not good at writing it though lmao but if you suggest it id prefer it to be female x male or gender neutral x male im not homophobic i just think its weird for a girl to write gay smut 😧

[heknowshisherbs]

hey y'all, long time no see!! ◡̈ if anyone remembers me, i was pretty active on here (same username) from like 2020-2021 until someone irl found my blog and i panic deleted it; i've regretted ever since. i saw bug beverage on tour last night and now i'm back.

i missed y'all!! <3

[nuclear-static]

REQUESTS!

I wanna start writing fics on here because I know I can write decently and I wanna have somewhere to share that! However. I lack motivation. So, it would be extremely appreciated if y'all could give me some requests! I write x reader fics the best, but I'll do other things like individual headcanons or the occasional ship if wanted. Also! I am perfectly comfortable with writing fluff, angst, smut, whatever. I'm okay with just about anything angst/smut wise. Anyways! Onto what fandoms I’ll write for! Anything bolded is a current hyperfixation, so I’m more likely to get to a request for that faster!

Musicals (Favorite!)

School of Rock

Beetlejuice

Newsies

Hamilton

Heathers

Movies/Shows!

Mary Poppins Returns (Listen I haven’t gotten around to watching the original yet- I mainly watched it for Lin/Jack)

Dear Evan Hansen

Bonnie and Clyde

Little Shop of Horrors

Marvel Universe (Mostly Avengers and Guardians of the Galaxy cause idk a lot about the others)

Stranger Things

Rick and Morty

Steven Universe

The End Of The F***ing World (Obscure but I loved it when I watched it)

Games!

Pretty much anything Disney but some I'd be better at are Aladdin (cause I was in it) and Tangled (cause I was obsessed with it)

SMASH

The Stanley Parable

Detroit: Become Human

Uhh probably other things

And there’s probably more than that which I just haven’t thought of, so if there’s something you’d like that isn’t there, just ask and I’ll let you know if I know enough about it to write for it! Btw, I’ll likely write better for fandoms I’m hyperfixated on, so I’d request those more. That and I’ll probably write them faster. So just keep that in mind. Alright, thank you, and farewell!!

[beetles-and-rock]

Need a little help on this X reader I'm writing with Dewey. It got a good bit of that warm domestic stuff in there. You and Dewey live together what should the relationship be?

[finnsmusicalstuff]

︵‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

About me

︵‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

୨୧ | Finn

୨୧ | British

୨୧ | Non-binary

୨୧ | 19

︵‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

୨୧ | My favourite food is pasta

୨୧ | My favourite colours are green and blue

୨୧ | My favourite songs at the moment are Stick It To The Man from School of Rock and Goosebumps from Phantom of the Auditorium

୨୧ | My favourite game is Minecraft

୨୧ | My favourite animals are sharks

︵‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

୨୧ | I like musicals (obviously), singing, art and writing

୨୧ | I don't like people who are mean for no reason. Also proshippers and terfs please get the fuck off my blog. You are not welcome here

୨୧ | My birthday is February 25th!

୨୧ | I am autistic and I named myself Finn because I loved Adventure Time when I was younger lol

︵‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

I have opened my asks so if anyone has any headcanons to share or writing requests for either SOR or Beetlejuice, be my guest!

Here's what I won't write:

୨୧ | Beetlebabes. If you ship this, here's the door 🚪

୨୧ | Smut (I'm ok with spicy headcanons sent in asks but I won't actually write any myself. I don't have the confidence for that-)

୨୧ | Any minor x adult. No I won't age up characters for this

୨୧ | Any other fandoms

୨୧ | Gore/intensely violent stuff

୨୧ | Actor x reader. I don't like writing stuff about real people

Now, here's the list of fandoms I'd love to write for:

୨୧ | Beetlejuice (Musical)

୨୧ | School of Rock (Musical)

︵‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!!! ~Finn

[wholelifeisadarkroom]

if you interested in asking for stories

like Beetlejuice x reader

alex brightman x reader

i also do dewey finn x reader

just go to my profile and ask a story you like

(gn reader)

[floorbe]

okay okay okay so i was thinking maybe beej/dew w artist reader??? if thats alright with you obvs

yessss hehe

~

Beetlejuice

-Lord save you bc he is going to be SO INVESTED

-Like breathing heavy down your neck watching you draw invested

-He honestly loves watching the process, if you’ll let him. It’s one of the only times he’ll quiet down bc he’s so into how you create

-Oh definitely expect the “draw me like your french girls” or equivalent jokes, with copious eyebrow waggling 

-If you actually draw him??? Oh my god. Oh my GOD, babes, what!!!

-Stares at it for so long. He frames it. He hangs it on the wall. Puts it on the fridge. He puts a little “A++++” sticky note on it.

-Pink hair all the way, baby!

-“Damn babes, this how you see me? Sexy as hell.” his voice is wobbling and there’s a shine in his eyes, but he’ll deny it with his undead life

-You’ll catch him attempting his own drawings of you when he thinks you aren’t watching

Dewey Finn

-Another man who is invested in your process

-He thinks it’s so damn cool how you just.... make that?? You just make that. Wow

-If you draw him he is over the MOON. Huge grin, staring at for a long time, smothering you in kisses as a thank you, considering laminating it...

-If it’s small enough he’ll put it in his wallet to look at

-He’s either an artist himself or he draws stick figures. No in between

-No matter which one it is, he’ll return every and any drawing you give him with one of his own

-If you’re ever doubtful of your skills, this is the man to go to! Reassurance God

-You’ll be forgetting how you felt by the end of his support rave, which could last hours if you don’t stop him, honestly

-He likes fiddling on his instruments while you do your own art, quality time man

[nofoundboy]

So I'll add these ones to my writing list but my phone has problems editing my posts so my actual list will be updated later 👀 requests are finally open again

You were right, sometimes you just have to do it yourself

Yup

👉👈

👉👈x2

I totally forgot about Spree and that's a crime 💀

Blorbo uwu

I just want good things for Will and honestly...who wouldn't?

Not nsfw with him obvs

Same with Jonathan. Byers boys need luv

Ah yes, the man of the hour

I don't know if I want to be him or to be with him

Same as Eddie. Attraction and gender envy are quite complicated

Not nsfw with him obvs

[littledanette]

O.M.G., dressed to a T

Fancy and formal 💜✨🎉

New pic of our boy! 💚 by Kai Ravelson

[wholelifeisadarkroom]

I read an interview that he's leaving Broadway

But gonna write and produce I guess

But not on stage anymore

At Times Like These--

--we have only each other.

This past weekend was a blur but my exhaustion is worth it.

I splurged and saw the matinee on Sunday and well as the final show.

First, Andrew Kober as Beetlejuice for the matinee. He is AMAZING. It felt like watching the show for the first time again. People have their favorites and fans like us can appreciate the differences all the understudies put into the role, but Kober is the second best Beej. Full stop. He has a fantastic mix of desperation and manic energy, with an underlying menace that, ngl, Alex sort of lost as the show went on.

During the matinee there was audience participation I haven't heard ever happening:

Kober says his line, "All I want is for someone, anyone to look my way and say “Hey."

Couple of audience members say loudly, "Hey!"

Kober continues, "I see you."

More audience, "I see you!"

Kober, "I accept you."

More audience, "I accept you!"

Kober, "And I fear for my safety around you.”

All of the audience, "And I fear for my safety around you!"

Kober, pauses. Then, "Nope. Didn't work."

We, the entire audience, lost.our.minds.

Now. The closing show ...

Fucking hell. I mean that in the best possible way.

Standing ovations from the beginning. For every actor.

It took so long for Alex to even drop the newspaper. He tapped his foot. He leaned back (allllll the way back) to lean on the coffin. He got on the floor. Then, and only then, did he drop the paper to renewed enthusiastic applause.

Every actor played along with their rightfully deserved ovation and applause during their entrances. It was so heartwarming.

I know everyone has seen all the "what happened during the last performance" posts that people are doing, but NO ONE has mentioned these things:

1) at the end of the TBS reprise, Alex ran up the stairs with a clone and started aggressively making out with them as the set changed

2) when Adam stops him from murdering Charles and goes into his "you have groped me, etc" speech, Alex made these increasingly feral, increasingly loud snarling noises like he was getting ready to scrap (. . . or screw)

3) during the Adam and Beej kiss, it went hard. Alex groped David's ass and pretended to dip a finger between his ass cheeks/shove a finger in him, then smelled his finger when David was pulled away. Then he stalked after David for more before Kerry grabbed him.

(I know I am looking at all that though the lens of a smut writer, but hoooo boy.)

Alex Timbers' speech was nice, but not allowing anyone else to say anything?! Fuck whoever made that decision. Alex was actively walking forward for the mic when the curtain stared coming down. He and Elizabeth looked surprised, so they weren’t told about it, obviously, which is unfortunate and understandably upsetting. Here is someone who had been active with the show since 2017 helping to make it what it became plus a new star that embraced (and was embraced by) the fandom, to the point she cracked during the very last word of the show, and they were denied? I'd heard from reliable sources that other cast members had some things prepared as well, and they didn't get the chance to say anything either. It was just abrupt and crushed the energy that had been wild up till then.

This show has meant so much to so many people, including myself. Alex Timbers told us what we already knew: Over a million people saw Beetlejuice on Broadway. That the audience for Beetlejuice was statistically younger than the average for Broadway shows. That Beetlejuice was the first Broadway show for a huge number of audience members. That the fact that fans were so engaged and active that we helped bring it back from the dead. We said his name three times, and Beetlejuice returned for a real send off, one the show deserved, to 1600 adoring Netherlings.

[musical-shit-show]

waste my time

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #29 (you know this means nothing, right?) and #62 (enjoying the view?) from Prompt List #2

Warnings: cursing, drinking, mild drug use (marijuana), anxiety, depression, Dewey is a little bit of an asshole if you squint, light angst, a touch of fluff

Word Count: 3,745

Author’s Note: Okay this turned out a bit longer than I anticipated, but I’m really starting to like writing for Dewey. I suppose this is set before the events of SoR, but whatever…my one shot, my rules. If enough people ask (or if I get a jolt of inspiration) I might write a sequel. As always, please check out my full masterlist, about me page, and prompt lists! And if you have a request, please send one to my ask box! And of course, like, comment, and reblog if you enjoy! Thanks for reading :)

“Can we please leave now?”

“You know, you could try and have fun at one of these things for once,” your best friend Patty scoffed at you, “Even I’m having a good time. That’s how I know you’re being a stick in the mud.” You chuckled humorlessly as she handed you a beer.

The music was thumping so hard you could barely hear yourself think. Quickly, you took a sip of the cheap brew. How you had been roped into attending a Halloween party where you knew barely anyone, you’ll never know. Patty always had a way of dragging you to social events, because, well, her boyfriend Ned also had a way of dragging her to social events. Except now, you seemed to be the only one who was miserable out of the dozens of increasingly drunk twenty-somethings.

So, there you were, only having been in attendance for little more than a half hour and already eager to leave. Not only were you growing more and more claustrophobic as party goers crammed themselves into the seemingly ever-shrinking Brooklyn apartment, but you were also dreading the arrival of a certain wannabe rock star.

“He’s not here yet,” Patty said, catching you eye the front door, “Thankfully.” You didn’t know how it was possible, but you found Dewey Finn even more infuriating than Patty did, and she was the one who had to deal with his constant freeloading and loud scream-singing.

It wasn’t that you thought he was a bad person, per se. But he made it very clear that he did not give a shit about anyone but himself, and you couldn’t stand that. And what pissed you off even more is that he seemingly managed to make everyone like him, despite his utterly selfish ways.

It was at that moment that there was a cheer near the entrance of the apartment, and you rolled your eyes into the stratosphere; Dewey had just arrived, hoisting a keg the size of a small toddler into the crowd, stupid grin plastered on his face.

As he made his way to the kitchen, you could see that he was wearing tight black jeans with a matching black button-down shirt that was rolled at the sleeves, and a red tie. His hair was unkempt, as usual, and he was also sporting a thick ring of eyeliner around his top and bottom lash lines. ‘Oh, right,’ you thought, ‘Ned had mentioned something about him coming as Billy Joe Armstrong. Figures.’

For as long as you’ve known him, Dewey wanted to be a professional musician and performer. And he was actually pretty talented; the only problem was that he could never stay in a band long enough to make a decent amount of money.

“Hey, Dew!” Ned called happily, waving to his best friend who was emerging from the tiny kitchen area like a god among men. He and Patty had decided on a couple’s costume, Fred and Daphne from Scooby-Doo. Unoriginal, but you had opted for Wednesday Addams, so you couldn’t really judge. Even holidays like Halloween brought you little joy these days.

Patty took another swig of her beer, and you surmised that it would be the first of many if she was supposed to put up with Dewey all night. As he neared, you got a better look at him. More specifically, you couldn’t help but take note at how well that eyeliner suited him. It gave his typically dopey face a little bit of edge.

“Enjoying the view?” you heard him say over the blaring music, a small, impish smile spreading across his face. Shit. He had obviously noticed your staring. You thanked the powers that be that the lights were low; the last thing you needed was for him, Ned, and Patty to catch your face reddening in embarrassment.

Instead, you clenched your jaw, instantly tensing your muscles. “Nope, I was just thinking about how if your music career never takes off, you can always work at CVS recommending makeup products to emo teens.” Patty snorted into her bottle, amused. She loved it when you exchanged verbal blows with Dewey; when she did it, it always ended in an argument between her and Ned. This way, she could just watch and relish in your takedown.

However, Dewey seemed unfazed on this particular evening. “You’d know about emo teens in that getup, huh?” his tone playful yet not without bite, “That eyeliner looks almost as black as your soul.” You couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. If he didn’t make you want to tear your hair out, you’d be almost impressed with his little comeback.

“Alright, enough you two,” Ned said as you continued to stare daggers into Dewey’s eyes while his continued to mock, “I’m going to get a drink. Dew, could you uh, help me with the keg?”

“Of course, oh best friend of mine,” Dewey replied, straightening his tie and winking at you and Patty, “Enjoy the party, ladies. I’d love to see you two let loose for once.” Ned practically pulled Dewey’s arm out of the socket towards the kitchen, not in the mood for a spat to break out.

“In your dreams, Finn!” you called in their direction, feeling your temperature rise even further. Your night was already going about as well as you had imagined, you didn’t need Dewey Finn tormenting you with his antics any more than you needed a hot sauce enema.

Patty let out a dry laugh and grabbed another beer from the cooler that sat next to the torn-up couch, “Wanna get drunk?” Your mouth twitched upwards.

“Very.”

*

The alcohol was not working. Why wasn’t it working? You felt mildly tipsy, yes, but it wasn’t enough to stop the familiar tightening feeling of dread that was firmly present in your chest and quickly spreading throughout your body.

You soon found yourself in a bedroom, whose you weren’t sure. You didn’t care. You just needed to get away from everyone. Luckily, it wasn’t difficult. Patty was doing shots with Ned and some of their other friends, and it was almost too easy to tell her you needed some air and could fend for yourself. The truth was, you were so overwhelmed, by both the party and, well, everything else.

Work had been kicking your ass, your love life was in the toilet, and you still felt like you didn’t belong in the city. You could feel hot tears welling behind your eyes, allowing a few to spill onto your black skirt. You blinked rapidly, tilting your head towards the ceiling. The last thing you wanted was to fuck up your makeup and ruin your night even further.

Suddenly, your panic attack was interrupted by the bedroom door swinging open. You have got to be shitting me, you thought sourly as Dewey stood in the frame, looking even more disheveled than usual. The faint smell of hops wafted in your direction, and you prayed he wasn’t totally fucked up; Drunk Dewey was even less pleasant to be around than his sober counterpart.

He looked at you, then the pile of coats that adorned most of the bed, and then frowned. “Goddamn it, you didn’t happen to see a black and white guitar pick anywhere, would you?” he ran a hand through his messy brown hair. You shook your head, attempting to steady your breathing. Screw your makeup, the actual last thing you wanted was for Dewey Finn to catch you in a moment of weakness.

Luckily, he seemed too caught up in his guitar pick crisis to notice. “Can’t you just get another one?” you asked, your voice faltering ever so slightly. Dewey pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly annoyed by your seemingly harmless question.

“Another one?” he repeated, exasperated, “No, you don’t understand, it’s Van Halen’s pick. The pick he used while recording and on tour, it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He started haphazardly throwing coats onto the carpeted floor, scanning the comforter for his precious souvenir. You quickly decided he wasn’t as drunk as you first thought, given that he seemed to have all of his wits about him. And, if he was sloshed, he was certainly holding himself together much better than he usually did.

“And why exactly did you bring it here?”

“I had a gig tonight and I was nervous. That pick always gives me good luck, okay?”

That was almost…sweet. You had never thought Dewey Finn of all people would need help performing in front of a crowd. “Okay,” you finally said, throwing your feet off the bed, letting them dangle for a few seconds.

“Look, I know you hate me and everything but—”

“I’ll help you look,” you cut him off, standing up. For once, he wasn’t be a total douche, and you felt a little bad for him. Even if it was over a guitar pick.

The two of you scoured the room, throwing the remaining coats aside. Finally, Dewey found the pick buried deep in his own coat pocket, which ended up irritating you only slightly.

“Uh, thanks,” he said sheepishly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, “For helping me look.”

“Don’t mention it,” you said, deadpanned, “Seriously. Don’t.” He couldn’t tell if you were kidding. Neither could you.

“Wanna go out onto the fire escape, ya know, for some air?” he asked, gesturing to the window facing the still busy city street, “That is, if you don’t want to push me to my untimely demise.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” you say with a smirk, “But sure. Why not.”

The two of you crept out onto the fire escape gingerly, the air shocking your senses despite your tipsiness. However, it doesn’t do much to quell your anxiety.

“You really don’t like this shit, do you?” Dewey said, taking a gulp from his beer after scanning your demeanor.

“That obvious, huh?” you said dryly. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I…used to. I’m trying to again. It’s just…weird right now, I don’t know. I feel like I’m not myself here.” You turned from him, embarrassed, as you hugged your arms to guard you from the chill. It actually helped, or at the very least you convinced yourself that it did.

Dewey frowned. “Well, that’s no good.” He held his bottle over the railing precariously, watching it dangle five stories above the ground. “But hey, maybe when you get back to being yourself, you’ll finally see how awesome I am.”

You turned to face him, and punched him lightly on the shoulder in retaliation. He barked a laugh, and felt your guard falling. Maybe he wasn’t as terrible as you thought. And you were a little drunk. And he was also a little drunk. And you felt the sudden urge to kiss him.

You shook your head, ignoring the thought. But the way he was looking at you made your stomach do a somersault. It was a mix of morbid curiosity and genuine concern with a just a dash of flirty energy. A dangerous cocktail, really. Luckily, Dewey spoke again before you could do something you’d regret.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, bracing himself for a verbal assault, “but uh, every time I see you, you just seem so fuckin’ stressed. Have you tried, I don’t know, relaxing?”

You scoffed. Of course that would be his suggestion. He made everything sound so easy, didn’t he? “No, that never crossed my mind, Finn. How astute.” He shook his head, raising his arms in mock surrender. After so many spars over the years, you had never seen him give up on an opportunity to criticize you so quickly. You couldn’t help but grow a little suspicious.

“Hey, I said it earlier but I really think you’d benefit from letting loose a little, ya know?”

“And how do you suppose I do that?” you asked, your tone coming out more frustrated than you intended, “I’ve tried everything.”

A wicked smile spread across his face, “Well, not to be too obvious, but have you ever tried smoking?” He produced a small joint from his pocket, along with a black lighter decorated with red and orange flames.

You nodded your head, looking unenthused. “Tried it with Patty once in college. Didn’t work.” And it was true. Despite smoking what you considered far too much weed, you barely felt a thing aside from a slight bout of the munchies. What you thought would quell your nervousness only ended up resulting in a stomach ache.

“I doubt Patty had anything of substance,” he remarked, a smirk dancing on his lips, “I’m pretty sure a horse tranquilizer wouldn’t be able to mellow that woman out.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile. You usually found Dewey’s humor irritating, but you kept wondering if that was your own bias. Maybe you were just searching for reasons to despise him.

Still, you couldn’t trust yourself, not with the night you’d been having. “What’s the catch?” you asked, narrowing your eyes, “I thought we couldn’t stand each other, remember?”

“No catch,” he said, his voice shockingly devoid of sarcasm or snark, “Consider it even for helping me find my pick. Plus, I think we’d all benefit from you being high. At the very least, it’ll serve as my entertainment for the rest of the night.” You couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe you were too harsh on Dewey. Not that Patty didn’t have her own reasons for disliking him, but that didn’t mean you had to keep up your animosity when he had at least treated you like a human being since he entered the coat-ridden bedroom.

You stared at the joint apprehensively as he held in between his calloused fingers. He rolled his eyes, playfully this time. “This is the good shit, I promise,” he purred, waving the joint in front of your face, “Don’t you trust me?”

“Not in the slightest,” you mused, gnawing on your lower lip, “But when have I ever been right. Light me up, rock star.”

*

Far be it from you to admit when Dewey Finn was right. But holy shit. Whatever strain he had did the trick, because you actually felt yourself relaxing for the first time in months, even after just a few puffs.

You didn’t care that you had been outside for the better part of an hour; even more surprisingly, you didn’t care that you were sharing a joint with someone you thought you despised at the start of the night. “Okay, I’m not saying I’m gonna become a stoner now or anything like that but…” you drawled, hugging your arms to your chest, “That did help a bit. So…thanks.” You were already feeling the effects of the both the alcohol and weed wearing off, seeing as you only consumed small amounts of both. Still, you couldn’t help but appreciate Dewey’s attempt to help, despite your past dislike of one another.

Dewey couldn’t help but flash a wide smile, leaning on the railing of the fire escape. “Don’t mention it,” he said sweetly, “Or maybe do. I’d love to take credit for being the person who finally removed that stick lodged firmly up your a—”

Before he could finish the crude remark, you placed a hand on his broad chest, pushing him flush to the railing. “If you value your life, you won’t finish that sentence, Finn,” you threatened, your eyes darkening. Dewey’s widened in fear, if only for a moment. You were of course, unserious, but you didn’t mind making him squirm a bit.

You flashed a smug look and he instantly matched you playful yet aggressive energy. “Oh please, you wouldn’t send the life of the party tumbling to his death, would ya?” he clasped his hands together, mock begging for mercy, “I know you can’t hate me that much, babe.”

You shivered. You tried to write it off as the chill in the air finally catching up to you, but you knew that it was also from Dewey’s smooth talking. You noticed your hand was still pressed up against him as the space between you lessened.

“Well, no,” you relented, finally letting go of him, “I mean, you annoy the shit out of me most of the time but tonight has been…okay.”

“I’ll take okay.” The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, an energy hanging in the air that you can’t quite place. You glanced over at him, goosebumps prickling up on his exposed forearms. “Since tonight has been so okay��mind if I ask why you were crying earlier?”

You felt your face go flush in embarrassment. You could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen, but it was clear he was more observant than you gave him credit for. “I guess, well…I haven’t been myself. For a while now. And I just don’t know if I belong here: in this city, with these people. Ned and Patty have been a part of my life for so long but…I don’t know. Maybe I’m better off somewhere else.”

Dewey nodded, casting his eyes towards Manhattan across the river. The two of you looked on, the sounds of the street filling the quiet you shared. The light pollution was illuminating the night sky despite it being nearly midnight. “For what it’s worth,” he sighs, “I don’t ever feel like I belong either. I just try to convince myself that I do, and hope everyone else follows.”

“Well, you’re damn good at it,” you remark, “Everyone loves you, Dewey.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “Not Patty. Not my band. Not you.” His last words hang in the air awkwardly as he immediately goes red. At least you weren’t the only one feeling embarrassed that evening. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you mean,” you said, smiling with ease. Once you actually had a real conversation with him, you realized how freely you were able to speak to Dewey. “But for what it’s worth, I owe you an apology. I just always pegged you for an obnoxious deadbeat, but I guess we have more in common than I thought.”

“It’s okay. I may have also thought you were a lame ass wet blanket for years, but I’m willing to bury the hatchet if you are.” You both laughed at each other’s expense and suddenly, that urge returned. Only this time, you couldn’t blame it on the little alcohol you drank or even the weed. You just wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss Dewey Finn.

You felt your stomach churn at the thought. Sure, maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought, but were you so easily won over? Was he just charming you to end your little feud, or was he playing you? And even if he wasn’t messing with you, what the fuck would Ned and Patty say?!

“By the way,” he said in a low voice, snapping you out of your thought spiral, “I’ve seen a million Wednesday Addams costumes, but, uh, the goth girl thing works for you.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, holding back giggle. God, you felt like an idiot school girl around him now.

“Yeah,” he gulped, his face growing pink. Was it possible he was experiencing some of the same strange, conflicting feelings about you? From what you gathered over the years, it didn’t take much for Dewey to let his dick be in the driver’s seat when it came to decision making.

Feeling bold, you chose to throw some compliments his way, “Thanks,” you said, batting your eyelids, wondering how seductive you could possibly be when it looked like you were headed to a demented funeral, “You look good too. Green Day was one of my favorite bands growing up, so the Billy Joe costume was…definitely a sight to behold. In a good way, I mean.”

“Ah, so you were staring at me earlier?” Dewey raised an eyebrow, feeling extremely self-assured. You decided to let him inflate his own ego this one time, mostly because it made him more attractive all bloated with confidence.

“It’s possible,” you conceded, “But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

He laughed brightly, and your stomach did another flip. “That’s okay. It’s reward enough to know you secretly have the hots for me.” You pursed your lips, scowling at him. You could barely admit these new feelings to yourself, there was no way in hell you were going to admit to Dewey that you wanted to pounce on him at that very moment. So instead, you decided to do what you had be doing for the last couple hours: deny, deny, deny.

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

“Do. Too.” He inched closer to you, his gaze growing more intense with each passing millisecond. You felt your breath hitch suddenly in the back of your throat. And before you had any time to think, you sort of lunged at him, your lips catching his angrily, passionately. He tasted like cheap beer and tequila. A normally shudder-inducing combination, but you couldn’t get enough of it.

Though he knew he was egging you on, Dewey was still caught by surprise. Still, it didn’t take longer than a moment for him the wrap his arms around you, securing your body against his as he kissed you hungrily. Despite the weather outside being chilly and dry, his lips were soft and plump, and you couldn’t help but nip at them as he let out a faint, almost imperceptible moan. You felt your fingers tangle in his hair as his snaked to grip the side of your neck towards your jawline.

Once you realized what you had done, you broke away, looking Dewey dead in the eye, “You know this means nothing, right?” You could deal with your attraction to him later; for all you knew, this little incident would never be spoken of by the two of you ever again. Maybe that would be for the best.

Dewey blinked dumbly a few times, then smirked, “I’m sort of counting on it, babe.” He pulled you in again, his breath visible in the cold October air as it washed over you like a tiny puff of smoke. He couldn’t help but kiss you again, and perhaps stupidly, you kissed him back for a few seconds until his broke it, his smile sinful. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a deal, rock star.”

*

Thanks for reading! Like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed!

Read the sequel here!

[wallowawooza]

aha there is no real title

So. Hi. I was thinking about writing some fics (Beej and Dewey). I really don't know if anyone will read :)

Tags: (I have not been here for long sooo...)

@heresathreebee, @justapanuwu