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starsstuddedsky · 5 days

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Blonde Phase

Renjun x gn reader

summary: spontaneous hair decisions always end in regret. that's what you expect to hear when you tell renjun you're bleaching your hair, but instead you find support, and even his help. you should appreciate his wholehearted support but instead it has you wondering: why doesn't he care?

genre: fluff, minimal angst, technically they're in grad school but that's not particularly relevant, non idol au,

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, spontaneous hair decisions (i do not endorse), lmk if I missed any

wc: 4.4k

a/n: in the immortal words of charles boyle, the most intimate thing you can do with a lover is wash their hair. yknow i made fun of him for that until i wrote this. i see it. also its been so long since ive finishing anything, pls forgive me if this is bad. renjun i love u. as always I'd love to hear what you think <3

“I’m bleaching my hair.” If you say it fast enough, Renjun won’t be able to talk you out of it. The plastic bag swings around your wrist as you walk across the parking lot. “I’ve already bought the bleach and gloves and stuff, and I’m going to do it, today.”

He’s quiet for so long you check to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. “Okay.”

You almost drop your phone. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing the word out. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

“Um, yeah?” You say. “You have opinions about literally everything. You talked me out of buying those pants two days ago.” You finally get to your car, tossing the bag onto the passenger seat and half-falling behind the wheel.

“That’s because they were made of polyester, and the thrift store was still charging $15,” he says immediately. “That was a scam.”

“Money is temporary, drip is forever.”

“Those pants would have lasted a year max, before they fell apart, and you still haven’t learned how to sew so you wouldn’t even be able to mend them or upcycle them.”

“You know what, I didn’t buy the pants, so this fight is moot,” you say. You set the phone on speaker, turning the engine on to blast the AC.

“Well, not moot. Technically I won,” Renjun says.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t insufferable.”

“Here I was thinking you appreciated my insight,” he says. “You even asked for it.”

“I did not!”

“You literally asked about bleaching your hair.”

“I said I was surprised you didn’t have an opinion, not that I wanted to hear it,” you say.

“Semantics,” Renjun says. “So what time do you want to come over?”

You frown. “Tonight?”

“The roommates are out of town for the whole weekend, and I have way better ventilation,” he says. “I’d much rather bleach it without passing out.” He pauses. “You do want help, right?”

“Honestly, I was not expecting support. I was fully ready to fight you on this,” you say.

He snorts. “Come over whenever, I'm not doing anything today.”

“See you in twenty minutes.” You hang up, feeling a strange ball of tension roll around in your gut. That was… too easy? Renjun always has something to say about your admittedly impulsive tendencies. But if he’s going to help you’re not going to reject it—knowing Renjun he’s probably already watching Youtube videos and learning more than you will ever know about bleaching hair.

And it’s Renjun. When have you done anything without his help?

Renjun opens the door wearing a wearied expression. He doesn’t bother to greet you or even smile, just unlocks the door and steps to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” you say, trading your shoes for the spare slippers resting by the doormat. You follow Renjun into the space that serves as kitchen, dining room, living room, and Jaemin’s miniature gym, with weights and mats stacked next to the television.

“Who the hell clogs a toilet and then leaves for the weekend,” Renjun says.

You set down your plastic bag full of hair products and frown. “That’s disgusting.”

Renjun leans against the counter. “And you didn’t have to spend the last forty minutes trying to unclog it.”

“So which of the guys are you going to murder?” You try to guess, running through his roommates: you find it hard to believe Jaemin would do such a thing. Jeno maybe, and Donghyuck would certainly think it’s funny. But, in all honesty, it could have been any of them.

“Don’t know,” Renjun says, “but knowing them, they’ll make a pact to protect each other.”

“Seriously?”

Renjun pauses, gaze sheepish. “It’s what I did when I accidentally killed Jaemin’s little succulent that survived his college dorm.”

You fake a gasp, placing a hand over your chest. “Every day I learn something new about you. That’s devious.”

“I was drunk!” Renjun says, holding up a finger. “And Jeno and Donghyuck pushed me into it, so it was equally their fault.”

“If you say so.” You glance around the apartment. “Where are they all?”

“Jaemin’s visiting family, Jeno has a soccer tournament, and Donghyuck said he’s going camping with Yangyang.” Renjun says, counting off with his fingers.

“Donghyuck and Yangyang are friends?”

“Yeah, according to them they bonded over dealing with me.”

“Those were their exact words?”

“Dealing with my ‘stupid ass,’” Renjun says.

“That’s more on brand.”

Renjun nods.

You think about Yangyang, Renjun’s friend from when he was a kid. You’ve met him a few times now, especially since he’s moved half an hour away from Renjun. He’s fun, always bringing out a chaotic side of Renjun whether it’s dancing on a bar or bringing out angry-Renjun. But Yangyang and Donghyuck?

“That’s a terrible friendship. They’re going to ruin you.”

Renjun nods again, but you see the smile hiding in his eyes. He can rant all he wants, you know he’s excited his friends are getting closer with each other.

You point at the bag. “So where are we doing this?”

You half expect him to lecture you about rash hair decisions but he just gestures to the kitchen. “I figure right here should be fine. The tiles should be pretty easy to clean and probably could use some bleach anyway.”

He drags the chair with a rickety leg from the dining table. You dig through the bag and set everything on the counter. While Renjun cracks a window open, you begin to mix the developer and the bleach, curling your lip at the sharp scent. Renjun joins you, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Wow that’s strong,” he says, wincing.

“Yeah,” you say. “Definitely a good idea to do it here.”

When the powder is finally combined, you sit on the chair, Renjun following behind you. You section off your hair together, then he grabs the bowl and the brush.

He holds the thick paintbrush brush up against your hair, glancing at you, giving you one last chance to back down. You give him the nod of approval and he shifts back to focusing on your hair, brushing the bleach into it as carefully as he spreads paint on a canvas. He works section by section, carefully drenching your hair with the creamy solution.

“So, are you going to tell me why you decided to do this?”

You can’t resist turning and glancing at him. “I thought you approved.”

“I didn’t try to talk you out of it,” he says, “that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about how you came to this decision.”

You nod until Renjun uses his gloved hand to hold your head straight. “I suppose that’s fair.”

You pause, trying to find the right words. But you find yourself drifting back to Renjun. Why didn’t he ask this before the bleach was in your hair? It’s not like him to keep his opinions to himself. When you first met him, he was yelling at Donghyuck for going to a philosophy seminar just to fight with the notorious bigot of a professor (which Donghyuck did and then got kicked out, and proceeded to get the professor suspended). You only knew Mark back then, a friend from another class who invited you to meet some of his other friends in the dining hall. When Renjun turned to ask what you thought, you said Donghyuck should do what he thinks is right. Renjun didn’t hesitate to call you an idiot then. So why isn’t he calling you an idiot now?

To his credit Renjun doesn’t rush you. He continues to paint the bleach into your hair, content to wait for you to figure out an answer. Except you’re thinking about all the wrong questions. Like, seriously, why do you want him to call you an idiot?

“I want a change,” you finally say. “I’m stuck in a degree that will make me absolutely no money when I graduate, I can’t afford to break my lease, and don’t have any major relationships that need upheaving, so, hair.”

“‘A change?’” Renjun repeats. “Like, you woke up this morning and thought, today I’m going blonde?”

“Like, I have this feeling in my chest, this aching feeling that there’s something I need to do, someone I’m supposed to be, something more than the person I see in the mirror but I’ve made my decisions and I’m happy with my decisions and I genuinely like who I am. So, hair.”

You see Renjun’s hand falter out of the corner of your eye, halfway between the bleach mixture and your hair. He freezes for a heartbeat then continues to move, lifting some hair off your ear, careful not to brush the bleach onto your skin.

“‘So, hair,’” he says.

“Are you really going to repeat everything I say?”

This gets a short laugh from him. “I think the fumes are getting to me already.” He pauses, setting down the brush and stepping in front of you. “For what it’s worth, I like who you are, too. I’m really glad we’re friends.”

You smile at him. “Me too,” you say. “I definitely would have fucked up trying to bleach this on my own.”

“There’s still some bleach left,” Renjun says after he finishes with your roots. “You’re sure you don’t want your eyebrows to match?”

“Why don’t we do your eyebrows,” you say. “Better yet, why don’t we shave them off?”

Renjun sets down the brush. “Okay, no eyebrows.”

You grin at him. “That’s what I thought.”

He helps you get a plastic bag wrapped securely over your head, then sets the timer.

“What do you want to do for the next half hour?” You ask. “Preferably something that requires little to no movement.” You gesture to your head. “We’re not winning any frisbee tournaments tonight.”

“It was one time,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head and stepping around you plop down onto the couch. “We can watch something.”

You follow him, sitting on the other side, a cushion between you. The space feels strangely empty. Though you’ve spent plenty of time alone with Renjun, even alone with him at his apartment, the silence is usually interrupted by one of the guys getting bored of playing League, or coming back because they can’t go out to a bar without someone forgetting their ID, or in desperate need of Renjun’s expert advice (read: Jeno never remembers to ask Renjun to look over his submissions until 12 minutes before they’re due). The cushion between you never stays empty for long but the moments stretch on, only making the distance feel greater.

You wonder, not for the first time, how long it’s been since you’ve thought of Renjun as just a friend. If he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much about what he thinks. And if he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much that he suddenly doesn’t think.

You sneak a glance at him, fiddling with the remote for a couple seconds before realizing he grabbed the wrong one. He’s certainly always been handsome—that was undeniable from the moment you met him. But more than just being good looking, it’s Renjun himself. Not just those dark eyes, but the way they burn with passion (even when he’s arguing about the proper number of appetizers to order). It’s his perfectly shaped lips, the way they betray how he feels with a slight curve up or down—and his smile. Always, always his smile, beautiful and breathtaking even though you’ve seen it a thousand times.

He turns, a little furrow in his brow. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re looking at me funny,” he says. “Did I get bleach in my hair or something?”

You turn to face the TV, trying to pay attention to the show Renjun chose. “I wasn’t looking at you funny,” you say. “I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“If you say so,” Renjun says, “but if there’s a blonde spot anywhere in my hair, I’m so making you pay for it.”

You shake your head. Where the hell did those thoughts come from? Renjun, more than a friend? Sure, you’re close with him and sure, he’s objectively attractive, but you’ve never had those thoughts before. Well, at least not sober.

“Um, why are we watching Singles Inferno?”

“Because I asked and you were too busy not staring at me to answer, so I put it on,” Renjun says. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t like it. I saw you rant on your Instagram story the other day.”

“Okay, but you don’t get it,” you say. “This bitch really has the audacity to to—”

“I saw your post,” Renjun says. “Believe me, I get it.”

“If you didn’t want to hear about it you should not have turned it on, because now I can’t stop,” you say. Renjun rolls his eyes but even as you delve into a full on essay about the horrible men particularly common in dating shows, you see the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile.

The timer goes off halfway through an episode.

“Saved by the buzzer,” Renjun says. “I’m putting a ban on anything reality TV related for the next three hours.”

“You’re the one that brought it up,” you mutter without any real annoyance. Despite his banter, Renjun dutifully listened to your rants, and even got mad along with you.

You drag a chair to the sink while Renjun drapes a towel over your shoulders. He puts on gloves and unwraps the bag, letting your hair fall into the empty sink.

“Close your eyes,” Renjun says gently. He tilts your head back, cupping the back of your head for a moment before pulling the head of the sink faucet out. He runs the water, long enough for you to peek your eyes open.

You’ve gotten used to seeing Renjun focused. He gets a little furrow in his brow, always glaring at his work. Before you were friends, you used to think he was actually angry, that his frowns and short tone were real. You’ve learned since then, it’s not his emotions, it’s his passion. The frown only comes out when he’s focused, trying to be perfect. When he cares.

“Unless you want bleach in them, close your eyes,” Renjun mutters, with absolutely no malice behind the words. His eyes shift to meet yours and that’s how you know you’re right. He can glare and bluster all he wants, he can’t hide his eyes, warm and shining. Like when he’s looking at his art, his gaze is a combination of soft and intense, creating something stronger than affection. Except he’s not looking at his art, he’s looking at you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Despite every attempt to shut down the thoughts, they race through your head, a stampede grown out of control. Renjun, who you’ve only known a year and a half but who has become one of your closest friends. Renjun, who never fails to share the only opinion you really care about. Renjun, who you can’t imagine life without. Renjun, who you’ve never dared to imagine life with.

He places a hand on your forehead, bringing the faucet closer to rinse your roots while keeping the water from pouring onto your face. You prepare for a cold shock but the water that soaks into your hair is the perfect temperature—not scalding hot, not freezing cold. Some water sprays over his hand, falling onto your eyelids and cheeks.

“Sorry,” Renjun murmurs. He holds the head farther away, running his fingers gently through the roots of your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, warm against your temple. You can feel his body, hovering over yours, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but warmth seems to emanate from it.

His friends would laugh at you if you described Renjun as soft to their face, but it’s the only adjective that captures the way he works the water through your hair. Soft and gentle and careful and nothing like the Renjun that has to corral everyone into his car at 3 in the morning. And yet this Renjun doesn’t feel like a stranger to you.

Washing your hair takes a lifetime, but as soon as he steps away and turns off the water, you miss it. You miss him, even though he’s only a couple feet away.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says. As soon as you do, he tosses a towel at you. It hits you in the face before you can get your hands up.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Renjun says, not sounding sorry at all. He manages to hold back the laugh but still grins at you, unashamed. He steps forward and pats your face dry, with the same gentleness as before, though there’s still a mischievous glint in his eyes. You yank the towel away before he gets any ideas, drying off your face on your down and wrapping it around your hair. You wring it out a couple times before letting go, doing your best to get it to fall evenly around your head.

You raise your eyebrows at Renjun. “Okay, how bad is it?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m insulted that you think there’s any way I’d fuck up you hair,” Renjun says. “And it looks really good. Blonde suits you.”

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone, studying yourself in the mirror and… he’s right. The color is even, somewhere between blonde and orange that is unavoidable when using bleach. Radical hair changes generally end in tears but looking at yourself in the mirror, you don’t feel the usual dissonance. The hair is different but somehow more familiar than the “normal” you that doesn’t feel right anymore.

“I’m right,” Renjun says.

You smile. “Yeah, you are.” You put down your phone, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Renjun.”

“For what?”

“Doing all of this for me,” you say.

“It’s the least I could do,” he mumbles. “You’re my friend.”

You shake your head. “Thank you anyways.”

Renjun just shrugs and grabs the bowl, rinsing out the bleach in the sink. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s avoiding your eyes.

You do your best to clean up the bleach from the floor, busying yourself until Renjun finishes. You wonder if you’re imagining the tiles getting a little bit whiter. Finally, he turns off the water and glances at you.

“You’re really happy with it?” He asks, sounding more like he doubts you rather than changing his opinion.

“Yeah,” you say, standing up. “I think it’s the ‘me’ of right now, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Like, I feel disjointed, and blonde hair is definitely not me, but it's the me that feels kind of all over the place, so even though it doesn’t look like me, it looks like me.” You wring your hands together, fingers tinged red.

“That makes no sense,” Renjun says, “but I think I get what you mean.” He smiles. “And I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets.”

So he did think this was a potential mistake? Why didn’t he say anything?

Renjun turns back to the sink, but before he can turn the water on, your voice calls his name. “Renjun?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Why didn’t you fight me on this?”

He doesn’t move for a long moment. You wish you could see his face. “I have been told by certain people,” he begins, which is code for Donghyuck and Yangyang certified their position as Renjun’s worst nightmare. He turns to face you, wiping his hands on a towel.

“That I have a tendency to be overly opinionated in a generally negative direction. And I thought about it, and I realized I'm never really fully supportive, whether it’s a big decision, or, like, coffee, and I’ve always been this way, but, apparently, it’s especially… apparent with you.” He frowns. “This is all coming out wrong. I’m trying to say that it’s different when I’m around you. I’m different.”

Your eyes jump between his, trying to decipher what he’s saying. “Different?”

“I care a lot about you,” Renjun says, “more than anyone, actually.”

“Oh.” You blink once, twice. “Wait, you like me?”

Renjun’s eyes shift to the floor. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but let out a short laugh, reeling at the absurdity of it all. Renjun likes you? But he’s Renjun. Even though he’s the most common main character in your daydreams, you never once realistically thought he might be fantasizing about you too. But he likes you.

“I really didn’t want to say anything, I mean, before anything else you’re my friend, and I don’t want to ruin that,” Renjun says rapidly. “We’re good friends, and I really didn’t want to be the guy that pretends to be your friend but just wants to date you the whole time, that’s really not what I was trying to do, it’s just—”

“Renjun.” You put a hand on his shoulder and he freezes mid sentence, mouth still hanging open a little. Before he can move, you lean closer, the type of line you’d only dare to cross in your dreams.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you say softly. He blinks, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“I’d like that,” he finally breathes. So you kiss him.

It starts light, his lips exactly as you imagined—soft and warm. His arm works its way around your waist, pulling you closer. The other works its way into your hair, still wet and sticking to your head. Renjun kisses like he’s been planning this for a long time, and maybe he has. Every movement is slow and careful, until he’s stolen all your air and even then you don’t want to pull away.

Your bravery fades the minute you meet his eyes. You bury your face into his chest, your cheek resting against your own hand. Renjun wraps both of his arms around you, holding you snugly in place.

“I like you, too,” you say into his chest. It’s the cowards route but if you look him in the eyes the words will never come out. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“It wasn’t actually,” he says softly. “I think I drove all of my friends insane trying to figure out whether I should confess or not.”

“They all know?” You groan. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”

“Yeah.” When Renjun laughs, it shakes your whole body. You can feel the rumbling, overtaking his heartbeat. “It’s okay though. It’s worth it.”

You turn your head, emerging from the sanctuary of his chest and tucking your head so that you can see his face. He smiles at you with the familiar warmth you’ve come to expect.

“Yeah,” you say, “it really is.”

Renjun grins.

“Your hair on the other hand…” He says.

“I thought you liked it!”

“I like it,” Renjun says, “but when has Donghyuck ever liked a single change to anyone’s hair?”

“Since when do you care what Donghyuck thinks?”

“I’m just saying now that we’re officially dating, my friends are going to be extra annoying,” Renjun says.

“Extra annoying? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Don’t underestimate them.”

You groan, pressing your face back into his chest. “It’s not too late to get some hair dye.”

“You are not changing your hair because of my dumbass friends,” Renjun says.

“You like it?”

“You like it,” he says. “That’s the only opinion that really matters.” He pauses then adds, “But yeah. I like it.”

You grin, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. “Maybe we should dye your hair too.”

Renjun snorts. “Oh yeah?”

“We could have matching couples hair.”

He laughs out loud this time. “Maybe we should just get some shirts.”

“Three minutes of dating and you already want matching shirts? Huang Renjun, be honest.” You push off of him until you can place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Are you obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he says, layering his voice in sarcasm that still isn’t enough to hide the truth of the admission. “All day every day, all I think about is you.”

“Well, see, that can’t be true because if you were that obsessed and I’m this close, you would already be kissing me because—” You forget whatever you were going to say, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when Renjun is kissing you like this. Your hands at his shoulders slink around his neck, while his wrap around your waist, leaning so close to you, you feel your back begin to dip.

Huang Renjun is poison, the kind that turns into a heart-shaped puff of pink when the bottle is opened. You melt into his kiss and it’s still not enough. You could die, right this instant, and you don’t think you’d notice. Death itself wouldn’t be able to tear you away from this moment.

“Renjun!” Donghyuck’s voice thunders through the kitchen. “How dare you? You bastard, you’re cheating?”

You jump apart, turning to see him looming in the doorway. His glare settles on you, and you see the exact moment he realizes he recognizes you.

“Jesus Christ, you could have knocked or something,” Renjun says.

“I live here too,” Donghyuck says automatically. He squints, then looks at Renjun, then back at you. “YN? Your hair is blonde.”

For some reason, you raise your hand and wave at him. “Hey!”

“Oh my god!” Donghyuck cries. “Yangyang owes me thirty dollars!” He races back out the door, screaming something that’s lost as the door swings shut.

You glance at Renjun. “Cheating?”

He frowns at the door, still a crack open. “Did he… seriously think you were someone else? That I was cheating on my unrequited crush?”

His eyes shift to yours. A heartbeat passes and you burst into laughter. His friends might be annoying, but they’re still endearing. You press a messy, smile-infested kiss to his lips and wonder if you’ll ever get used to the giddy feeling.

There’s plenty messy in your life, plenty to doubt. But watching Yangyang and Donghyuck drag their backpacks in (apparently Donghyuck forgot his power bank and they decided to give up on camping) as they attempt to interrogate Renjun on every detail, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t really matter. You don’t doubt Renjun. You don’t doubt blonde suits you. And you don’t doubt the power of a last minute hair decision, not anymore.

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #renjun #renjun fluff #huang renjun #nct renjun

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rollingsins · 1 year

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all hers, part viii

summary: Wes is acting weird. Weirder than usual. Ghostface!Tara

warnings: (+18), ghostface!tara, possessive behaviors, murder of an established character.

word count: 4k

a/n: peep the murder warning for this one, thought we’d get stabby again ;) as always, thanks so much for the love and let me know what you want to see next!

Wes is acting weird. Weirder than usual.

You’ve felt it ever since the night of Amber’s party. He had always been one of Tara’s quieter friends. Shy, almost. But he was sweet, and he’d always had a lot in common with Tara. They both liked those awful, gory horror movies. Video-games. They had the same taste in food and in books. In fact, out of all of Tara’s friends, you think you liked Wes the most. He’d been the first to welcome you into the group when you’d started dating Tara, and he always went out of his way to make you feel like you belonged.

But over the past week he’d been acting even stranger.

It had started in the cafeteria on Monday, when you’d arrived late to lunch and climbed into your usual spot in Tara’s lap. He’d watched you close as you’d kissed her softly, fed her the last of your grapes. He was just lonely, you figured. He wanted a girlfriend of his own, maybe.

But then Tuesday he’d looked down at your entwined hands in the hall and made a face. Something you couldn’t quite place in his expression.

Wednesday he’d left the table the moment you and Tara sat down.

And Thursday he spent the entire biology lesson staring at the back of Tara’s head. And something clicked.

“Wes has a crush on you.” You tell Tara that night. She’s in the kitchen, one hand stirring the potatoes, the other minding the chicken. You’d been thinking about it all afternoon. Stewing about it all afternoon. The idea of him and her made your stomach writhe with hot, wanton jealousy.

Tara looks up at you for a moment. Then, she quirks her eyebrow and snorts.

“It’s not funny.” You tell her, smacking her arm gently.

“Why on earth would you think that?” She asks. She’s amused, you can tell by the sparkle in her eyes. You’re not laughing.

“I caught him staring at you today.” You say, “All through biology. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

She stirs the chicken, a smile playing on her lips.

“Maybe he was daydreaming.” She suggests, a little wry.

“Babe. He wasn’t daydreaming. He was staring. He has a crush on you.”

Tara puts down her spoon, reaches for you.

“Wes doesn’t have a crush on me,” Tara assures. She pulls you into her, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “He’s like my brother. You have nothing to worry about.”

She makes her point with a kiss. Strokes the hair out of your eyes.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” You mumble. You feel hot, a little tingly. It had been hard for you at first to understand why Tara got so angry when she thought someone liked you. You think you understand it now. Anger burns under your skin. Anger towards him.

“Stop worrying.” She kisses you once more. Retracts to go back to her cooking, “Wes is harmless. And he doesn’t like me. I’ve known him forever.”

It feels unfair, the way she’s allowed to brush this off so easily. Your mind can’t help but wander. Dan. Sam. Sadie. Chase. Amber. All with one thing in common.

“If he had a crush on me, you’d have killed him by now.” You don’t often bring it up, the elephant in the room. It was unspoken between you. Like if you didn’t talk about it, it didn’t exist.

Tara looks up at you. She isn’t smiling anymore.

“That’s different.” She says, quiet. Your lip twitches.

“How?”

“You know how.”

You do know how. She’d explained it, one night when you were entwined and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. The Rage, she’d called it. She described the feeling. Hot, ever-present, like burning bright fury coursing through her veins.

“Well, maybe that’s how I’m feeling right now.”

It feels like a low blow, the moment the words leave your lips. If you were honest, you had no idea what The Rage felt like. This was something different. Something less. Insecurity, maybe. Jealousy. You didn’t want Wes thinking of your girlfriend the way only you were supposed to.

“So what are you saying?” Tara asks, “You want to kill him? You want me to kill him?”

You hesitate a moment.

“No. Of course not.”

“Good.” She says. There’s tension in her shoulders. She stirs the potatoes, a little more violently, “Because I won’t. He’s my friend.”

She points her spatula at you, accusingly, “And besides, you made me promise-”

“I know.” You cut her off. Rub your eyes, “I’m sorry. Forget it. I don’t know why I said that.”

You lean into her, press your forehead to her shoulder. She’s tense. You press your lips to the back of her neck, trying to soothe her. Trying to apologize.

“You’re right, he was probably daydreaming.” You say and she relaxes.

Wes isn’t in school the next day. It’s still there in the back of your mind, the idea that he wants your girlfriend. You try to shake it, the horrible feeling of suspicion that seeps into your bones. He has no chance with her even if he does like her, you tell yourself, She loves you. She wants you.

If nothing else you can believe that.

It’s Friday, date night, and Tara’s taking you out to a new place that opened up a couple of towns over. You want to wear something special, look nice for her, so you insist she drives you back to your house so you can grab your outfit after school. She parks in her usual spot, down a small side street so your dad doesn’t see her and switches off the engine.

“I’ll only be five minutes.” You tell her, leaning over the console of the car to kiss her, “Thanks, baby.”

And you exit the car and dash up to the house.

Your dad isn’t home, a small blessing, so you make your way upstairs and rifle through your closet, looking for the dress you want.

Not a minute later, someone is ringing your doorbell.

When you answer, it’s Wes standing at the door.

He looks terrible. Dark circles under his eyes. He’s jittery, nervous. He swallows when he sees you.

“YN.” His voice is serious, “Can I come in?”

This is it, you think as he plays with the can of soda you’ve offered him, he’s about to tell me he’s going to make a play for my girlfriend.

He’s refused your offer to sit down so you stand, watching as he paces back and forth through your kitchen.

Your stomach writhes, that familiar feeling of jealousy sinking in.

Tara will rebuff him.

It’s that voice in your head, trying to calm you.

But then again, what if she doesn’t?

Wes sits. Flattens his hands on the table. His knee is bouncing, nervous. He looks as though he might throw up.

“I have to tell you something.”

You blink back at him. Grit your teeth.

“Alright.”

You wait, but he takes a minute. Decent of him to pay you a visit, you think briefly, as decent as a person could be when he’s about to try and steal your girlfriend from you. Your mind flashes to all those times he’d been with her alone. Taking her to the cinema to watch whatever latest slasher was showing. Talking for hours with her about the importance of elevated horror over a plate of fries at the local diner. You wonder if that’s how he’d fallen for her. A beautiful girl talking animatedly with him about a bunch of teenagers who’d been carved up by a masked killer.

If only he knew.

“I don’t want you to freak out.” Wes says. His eyes are wide, earnest. “I’ve thought really long and hard about this and I wanted to come here first. You deserve the truth.”

He runs a hand through his bleached hair. He’s handsome, you suppose. You could see the appeal. They’d make an attractive couple. Your heart clenches painfully at the thought.

Tara loves you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara doesn’t want him.

The voice is back. You’re grateful for it. Wes could tell Tara he wanted her until he was blue in the face, it wouldn’t make a lick of a difference.

“Wes-” You say. You think for a moment, trying to pick your words carefully, “I know what you’re going to say. And-”

“You don’t.” Wes says. His leg is bouncing again, “Please, YN. I need to get this out now or I won’t be able to say it.”

You stare.

“Do you remember that party a few weeks back? The night Amber died?” His voice is shaky, uneven. You frown. That’s when Wes realized he was in love with Tara? The night one of his best friends was being murdered?

“Of course.” You say.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. You look down at it, see Tara’s name flash across the screen.

almost done babygirl? not getting any younger over here.

“Is that Tara? Don’t answer it.” Wes says, voice urgent. “Please.”

You put your phone on the counter.

“Wes, I have dinner reservations. Whatever you need to say-”

“My mom has this theory.” He interrupts, “I’ve overheard her talking about before. The attacks, they’re not random. They’re all connected.”

Something niggles at you in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m confused.” You say, “What are we talking about?”

“Amber made a pass at you that night.” Wes continues on as if he didn’t hear you, “In front of all of us, do you remember?”

Your stomach flips. Wes is staring at you, his eyes wild. Suddenly, you think you’ve got everything wrong.

“Yes.” You say, voice low, “So what?”

“Sadie was your ex-girlfriend. Chase was your best friend.” Wes says, “Everyone knew he liked you. Including Tara.”

The room’s getting smaller, closing in. You press your hand to the counter, suddenly wishing you’d sat down.

“The other two - I don’t know, maybe they liked you. Maybe you had a thing with one of them at some point.” He’s rambling but you can barely hear him. “I think they were killed because they liked you. Same with Sadie, same with Chase, same with Amber.”

The blood’s rushing to your head. You grip the counter so hard your fingers turn white.

Wes doesn’t seem to notice. He takes another shaky breath, looks you straight in the eyes.

“I think Ghostface is killing people who are connected to you.” He says. “YN, I think Tara is Ghostface.”

The room spins. The hair on the back of your neck rises tall. Every atom in your body courses thick, fast, in a mesh of panic and fear and confusion.

He knows.

His eyes are wide, desperate to convince you.

“Please don’t panic.” He says. He rises, reaches for you. His hands press hard around your forearms. Your face is white, he must see how you look as if you might pass out.

“I know it sounds crazy. I know it’s a shock. But I’m certain. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t certain.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. You have questions, so many questions. You want to know how he knows, what he knows. You want to know everything. You don’t know how to ask.

“Have you told anyone else?” The most pressing question spills from your mouth before you can stop it. His mom is the sheriff, god, his mom is the sheriff. If she knows it’s over. Tara will be in a cell by sunset.

He shakes his head, wildly, “No. I wanted to come to you first. I wanted to keep you away from her before she could hurt you too.”

You exhale. You can’t hide your relief. He catches it, his eyes knit tight in confusion.

“YN, do you understand what I just told you? Tara is Ghostface.”

You take a breath. Look him in the eye. Wes is sweet. He’s nice. And Tara is his friend. You can talk him down, you know you can.

“Wes, that’s-” You take a shaky breath, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

He stares at you, shakes his head.

“No, no it’s not. YN-”

“Tara is not Ghostface.” You tell him firmly, “She’s my girlfriend. She’s your friend.”

“It’s her, YN. I’m sure. Think about it. Where was she, that night that Amber died?” He’s staring at you, searchingly, desperate to convince you.

“She was with me.” You insist, “She drove me home. I stayed with her, in her bed. She was with me the whole night. If she had left, I would have known.”

Something flickers behind his eyes. His eyebrows knit tight in confusion.

“She didn’t drive you home.” He says, voice a little flat. “I saw Sam pick you up. I watched Tara put you in the car.”

Your heartbeat pounds. Idiot, you think, of course he saw you. why did you lie?

The look in your eyes is all he needs. His blue eyes blink back at you as he pieces it together. Hurt, confusion, realization.

“Oh my god.” He says, as it dawns on him, “You already know. You already know it’s her.”

Your fingers grip white on the countertop. You swallow hard.

“Wes. You’re confused. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He backs away from you slowly, runs his fingers through his bleach blonde hair.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe this. Are you in on it with her?” He’s staring at you with wide eyes. He’s scared.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Wes, calm down.” You reach for him but he jerks back away from you. “Wes.”

Your mind races. In all your effort to unravel his theory, you’d only confirmed it more. Tara flashes through your mind. Her sweet smile. Dark, chocolate-eske eyes. Freckle-kissed face.

You think of Wes driving madly to the police station, pointing the finger at her. You think of the Sheriff pulling up to Tara’s house in a squad car and dragging her away in handcuffs.

You think of Tara in a cell. Tara in an orange jumpsuit. The smack of the Judge’s gavel as he declares he guilty and locks her away for life. Far away from Woodsboro. Far away from you.

You’re thinking of her when you grab the knife.

It happens in a flash. Wes launches himself at the door, trying to make a break for it. Adrenaline rushes through you. The handle is cool around your palm as you wrap your fingers around it. You surge forward, grab the back of Wes’ shirt and tug him towards you. In a panicked, heavy swing, you thrust the knife forward and sink it into Wes’ back.

He cries out, stumbles forward onto the carpet. The knife is lodged deep between his shoulder blades. You don’t think, you act. Rush forward and take the handle between your fingertips. He yells out again as you pull the blade out. Thrust it forward once more, then twice, then three times until his whimpering is dying down and your hands are coated thick with his blood.

He falls limp beneath you, face down on the cool tile of the kitchen floor. Your hands shake as the knife clatters to the fall.

Over the blood in your ears, you hear your phone buzzing.

You stumble backwards, grab it from the kitchen counter. It’s Tara, her smiling face looks back at you as you coat the phone bloody.

“Five minutes my ass.” Her voice is light, she’s teasing, “Maybe I need to buy you a watch.”

“Tara.” You whimper into the phone. Your hands are shaking. You stare down at Wes’ bloodied body.

He stares back at you, lifeless. Dead.

“Baby?” You hear the concern in her voice, “What’s wrong?”

“Tara,” You gasp into the phone. You feel dizzy, like you might pass out, “Tara, please you have to come, I’ve done something really bad. Tara-”

“Don’t move, I’ll be right there. Stay on the line with me, sweetheart. Tell me what happened.”

But you can’t, you don’t even know it yourself. It’s all a blur. The shake of Wes’ knee, his blue eyes earnest, worried. Fearful as he backed away from you. Glassy now as he stares back at you. Tears roll down your face as you sob into the phone.

By the time you hear the front door open, you’ve sunken down into the floor, wide-eyed, clutching the phone in your hands as you look at the sight in front of you.

When she enters, you watch as she freezes. Blood splattered across the floor. On the ceiling. All over you. Wes’ lifeless body at the center. Her eyes linger on him, wide and mournful.

“Baby. What have you done?”

“I had no choice.” You feel tears spill from your eyes. The awful metallic smell of blood permeates from your red hands. “He knew, Tara, he knew.”

She’s moving over to you, kneeling down to your level. You sob as you feel the warmth of her on you, her fingers on your face, brushing your blood soaked hair out of your eyes, on your shoulders, tugging you into her.

“He knew what, baby?”

She takes your hands, looking for something, inspecting. Cuts, maybe. There’s no point. It’s all his blood.

You choke back a sob. She pulls you in close.

“He knew you were Ghostface.” You say, tears are streaming thick and fast down your face now, “He came here to tell me. He didn’t know I knew.”

Your voice shakes, “He was going to go to the police, I had no choice-”

“Oh, honey.” She pulls you into her, nestles her hand in your hair. You choke back a sob. Press your face to her chest. Her scent, her arms around you soothe you instantly. But you don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve her comfort. You just killed somebody.

“Tara, what did I do?”

“Hey. It’s alright.” Her hands are either side of your face, cupping your cheeks. “It’s going to be okay.”

She presses a long kiss to your lips. Your lips quiver against hers.

“It’s all going to be okay.” She murmurs as she pulls back. You feel her take charge, “You’re going to go and get into the shower. Wash your hair. Scrub under your nails. Put the clothes you’re wearing in a plastic bag and wait for me upstairs, okay? I’m going to clean this up.”

A fresh wave of tears falls thick down your face.

“Tara-”

“Baby. I need you to be strong for me now. Okay? Tell me what you’re going to do.”

You swallow. Her voice is urgent, her eyes flitting between yours.

“Baby.”

“I’m going to shower. I’m going to wash my hair and scrub under my nails. And then I’m going to put my clothes in a plastic bag and wait for you upstairs.”

She kisses you.

“Good girl.” She murmurs against your lips, “That’s my good girl. It’s all going to be okay, sweetheart.”

You shudder as she retracts.

“Where’s your dad? What time will he be home?”

You didn’t even think about him. Panic swells in your chest, fills your eyes.

“I don’t know. God, Tara, if he comes home and sees this-”

Her hands grip firm around your shoulders.

“Shh. It’s okay. Don’t panic. Just think. Where is he usually on a Friday? What time does he finish work?”

You blink, struggle as you think hard.

“Friday drinks.” You say, finally, “He goes to that bar on 2nd with his work friends. He’s not home until like eight.”

“Good.” Tara says. She presses a kiss to your forehead, “See? Everything will be fine. Now go upstairs, and do exactly what I said.”

You try not to think.

You shower, exactly like she said. Put your clothes in a bag and leave them on the bathroom floor.

Then you slip into one of Tara’s old hoodies and curl up into your duvet and press your eyes closed. Try not to think about how Wes had felt under you as you drove your knife into him. Try not to think about his screams.

She doesn’t come up for a while. You hear her down there, moving around. You can smell the bleach wafting up the staircase. Finally, after what seems like hours she’s moving into the bathroom and turning on the water.

She’s naked when she emerges, drops her towel and rifles through your wardrobe for an outfit. Slips on a pair of your sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“What did you do with him?” Is the first thing you say. Salt on your lips from the tears. You can still taste the metallic twang of his blood.

“Don’t worry about that. Come on sweetheart, we’re leaving.” She pulls you up out of bed, wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

The kitchen is immaculate. Scrubbed down, perfectly clean. Almost like it never happened. There’s a large suitcase by the door when you get down the stairs. You stop in your tracks. Your heart drops.

“Tara, is he in there?”

Her hands are strong on your back as she leads you forward.

“Yes he’s in there. It’s broad daylight, sweetheart. It was the only way.”

You didn’t even think about the logistics. The clean-up. The neighbors. The body. The body that was inside your Dad’s suitcase.

“What are you going to do with him?” Bile rises in your throat. Tara rubs your back, presses her lips to the side of your head.

“It’s better if you don’t know, babe. Come on, let’s get in the car.” She tries to pull you forward, but you resist.

“Tara. I want to know.”

She stares at you for a long moment.

“I’m going to wait until it’s really late and then I’m going to drive out to the river and dump him in it.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand. She doesn’t allow you a moment longer to think.

“Baby. Come on.”

The drive home feels like a dream. You stare out through the windshield, trying to blink back your tears. Her hand grips yours tight over the center console. The radio blares some pop song. Kids play in the street. Grief washes through you. Grief you caused yourself.

Tara helps you out of the car, half carries you upstairs to her bedroom. You can’t stop thinking about him. He’d been here only a couple of weeks ago, laughing and smiling and smoking weed in the living room. The lump in your throat aches at the thought.

You curl up under Tara’s covers. Breathe deep, trying to surround yourself in her scent. You feel her tuck herself into you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, not an inch of space between you. Her lips ghost the back of your neck.

“Are you hungry?” She’s murmuring, “I’m going to order us some food.”

“We’ve missed our reservation.” You say, a million miles away. You could have been there by now. Sharing a plate of sushi and holding her hand over the table.

“We’ll go next week.” She promises, as if things are perfectly normal and there isn’t a body in a suitcase in the trunk of her car. As if it isn’t your fault he’s in there.

“His mom’s going to be so upset.” You can’t stop the tears from flooding over now. You’d met Wes’ mom once. Judy, the town sheriff. She was a hard ass. And she loved her son with everything she had. Tara squeezes you tight.

“Don’t think about that, honey.”

“I’m an awful person.” You whimper.

“No you’re not. You did what you had to do.” Her voice is firm, “You were protecting me. The way I protect you.”

She kisses your neck. You close your eyes, try not to think. Feel the beat of her heart, the warmth of her body pressed against you. The sweet smell of her shampoo. Coconut, you think, coconut and vanilla.

“If you didn’t do what you did, I’d be gone now. I’d be locked away. They’d take me far away from you.”

At that, you turn in her arms. Lean up to kiss her, fierce.

“Nobody’s taking you from me.” You say. You lock your hands around her neck, brush your nose against hers. “Nobody.”

Not Wes, and certainly not Judy. You’d die without her. You’d kill to keep them from her. She’s yours. She belongs with you.

Your heartbeat steadies, slightly. You take a shaky breath as you look into the warm brown of her eyes. Brush your fingertips over the spatter of freckles across her nose. She’s everything to you. She’s more important than anyone else. Anything else.

“Nobody.” She affirms.

Next part

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #wednesday #mine #ah #fanfiction

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ornii · 5 months

Text

Folie a Deux IV: Jealousy

(I also Made an alternate Cover! Don’t know why)

A college student finally finished their midterm exams and makes their way back to the dorm. First thing they do when they enter is check YouTube and spot the perfect video.

Jenna Ortega and (F/n) (L/n) answer the Webs most searched questions. It plays as the two sit casually together.

“Hello I’m Jenna Ortega.”

“And I’m (F/n) (L/n), and we’re here to Answer the Webs most searched questions about us.”

The video begins as the duo take a board and answer various internet searches. (Y/n) tears off one.

“Is (Y/n)… Blind.” He said, he turns to the camera, staring at it as people try not to laugh.

“…No.” He answers, “It was just a Character I was playing, I’m not actually blind, but what I will say is that acting blind is a lot harder than you think.” He explains, Jenna eyes him as he looks at her.

“Okay so let’s say we’re doing a scene, and I have to listen to you, I can’t look directly at you even though I obviously want to, I have to basically look in your general direction but not directly at you.” He said, she nodded, admitting that makes sense.

“He’s smarter than he looks she says jokingly, the interviewer continues as another question pops up.

“How did.. Jenna Ortega and (F/n) (L/n) meet.” She said, “it was… the Grammys?” She Said and (Y/n) nodded.

“Yeah it was the 2020? I remember they told I was gonna sit next to Orgeta so I thought, “oh it’s probably Brian Orgeta or something.” This was my first Awards show so I was obviously anxious and I had a few things in my brain to say to break the ice, well it didn’t end well. I look to my left and this, beautiful girl just sat down next to me and, you remember the old windows PC’s and that blue screen sound effect they make? That was my brain.” He explains without cracking a single smirk, Jenna pursed her lips, trying not to laugh, also because he said she was beautiful.

“But yeah, ever since that, and us getting casted in Wednesday we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Yeah, Friends.” She mutters.

With the last question, they both tear it off and say in unison. “Are Jenna Ortega and (F/n) (L/n).. dating.” They look to the camera to speak but the video, hilariously and abruptly ends.

“So they cut the video for dramatic effect?” (Y/n) Asks Miss Ortega as he sits at a marble table inside a beautiful kitchen, it was part of a beautiful villa in Tuscany Italy. He asks the girl walking out of the room putting on a pair of gorgeous golden earrings, her hair done so well, adorning a beautiful gold trimmed Princess Line dress. He saw her and much like before, his brain couldn’t fathom her beautiful, he simply stood up and walked to the window, looking out to see the gorgeous countryside and it’s beautiful hills, perfectly matched by the slowly setting sun.

“I really appreciate you coming with me.” He said, “I mean getting invited to some ball was pretty scary.” He explains, Jenna shook her head. “It’s funny to hear that, I’ve been doing this since I was a kid, it’s natural to me.” She explains, walking next to him she also looks out the window. Taking in the slowly setting sun over the beautiful Italian mountainside.

“I could look at this forever.” She said, reveling in the beauty of the moment. (Y/n) nods, his phone suddenly rings, checking it was his manager and he reluctantly answers.

“Hello? Oh, yeah I’m just waiting I— oh, she did?” He said, Jenna turns to him, her interest growing in his conversion.

“That’s, fine? Okay.” He hangs up, and turns to Jenna.

“Apparently Olivia’s going too, so that’s fun.” He said, Jenna was taken aback slightly. Not expecting someone else.

“It’ll be nice to see her at least, cmon we should get going.”

The two were escorted, mostly driven to there. (Y/n) was humming to “Good 4 U”. Jenna, having a taste for music picks up.

“You must really like that song.” She said and (Y/n) nods, “Love it. Actually, I guess the boys version I made was okay, but nothin compares to the original.”

“Boys?” She replied, and (Y/n) reluctantly shows a video, it was a small recap of it all. (Y/n) releasing a version that swaps the protagonists of the song. Not to diss Olivia but to show that breakups are nasty on both ends. Turns out, Olivia loved it, and obviously retweeted it.

“Breakups suck on both ends a lot of times, it’d be like if you and I stopped being friends, we’d both be hurt.” He explains, Jenna sees the look in his eyes, she always found he was always honest, even if it was painful and the look in his Eyes, he would be hurt if they stopped. Jenna reached out, her hand almost grabbing his, until the vehicle stopped, they halted and prepared to make center stage, as the door opened (Y/n) stepped out first, adjusting his suit he then turns to the door and reaches out for Jenna, she smiles, taking his hand and steps out. The duo make their presence known.

Cameras flash and (Y/n) was still a bit novice at this, Jenna took it for the moment to make her power move, her arm wrapped around his and he was surprised but didn’t make any attempt to stop her, the two walk in to the Ball, adores with tapestry and music, it felt like the 1900’s once more, a whimsical prince with a beautiful princess on his arm, this was a fantasy to many, but a dream come true for (Y/n).

It was mostly mingling and talking, the two keeping close to each other. While they weren’t locked arms they were still in yelling distance, mingling and enjoying the ambiance. Staying in the Limelight, but something caught (Y/n) in the corner of his eye, a girl with sleek black hair approaching, in a large silver Ball gown, it was Olivia. She smiled and approached, (Y/n) was caught off guard by another beautiful woman talking to him first!

“(Y/n)?” She asks. (Y/n)s pep picked up and he smiles.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you!” He offers a handshake and Olivia kindly shakes it. Yeah we’ve talked on the internet before but, it’s weird in person.

“You come here alone?” (Y/n) asks.

“Yeah, it was nice to not be on tour or stuck making music, good to get out, you?” She replies, (Y/n) looks over.

“No, Jenna’s with me.” He said, Olivia nods in jest, “A nice date night then huh?” She said.

“What? No it’s, she came as a friend, I’m not too good with people.” (Y/n) awkwardly admits. Olivia looks around for a moment, spotting Miss Ortega, who sees the two chatting and, isn’t in the most enjoyable mood. Olivia smiles.

“Hey, Mind if we talk in private? Something I want to run by you.” She asks, (Y/n) casually agrees and Jenna watches the two walk away to a more secluded part of the Ballroom. Her frown was very prominent, and she sulked after, slowly following them. They pass by a pillar To the outside and Jenna has lost their trail, listening to any talking she picks something up, she follows past a pillar and to smaller balcony, she was suddenly stopped as (Y/n) came around the corner. They almost bumped into each other.

“Oh! Sorry!” (Y/n) said, Jenna’s worry faded as she looks around.

“It’s fine, so, what were you up to?” She asked.

“Olivia.” He said at first, “she wants to collaborate on a song, first collab for me!” He said with a giddy smile. Jenna couldn’t help herself with a smile. (Y/n) walks out to the Balcony and Miss Ortega soon follows.

“So, music?” She asked, “Yeah, she’s working on something called.. “Vampire.” Can’t say much more.”

“You aren’t taking any more acting roles, are you?” She said, a hint of sadness on it.

“I don’t know… I’m not really fit for it. I mean I had my first kiss on a Netflix show, am I really made for this?” He says to her, Jenna shrugs off his fears.

“It’s a rough thing at first but… wait, First?” She asks, not fully catching that first part. (Y/n), lacking any awareness nods.

“Yeah, that scene we did after my character did that whole speech and Wednesday had that vision.” He explains, Jenna blinks a few times in disbelief.

“Was I..?” She asks, trailing on. (Y/n) awkwardly nods. “Yeah, you were my first Kiss. So, how did I do?” He admits, for the moment the roles were reversed, Jenna was the dumbfounded fool whose heart skipped a bit. Jenna’s face was perfectly lit by the moonlight which hid her growing blush, she turns to face the party, hiding her smile so much.

“You did… you did fine..” she said, and calmly but confidently walked back to the Ball.

#male reader #reader insert #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x male!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x reader #olivia rodrigo #olivia rodrigo x male Reader

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loversj0y · 10 months

Note

Dadbur never grow up !!!

never grow up

event masterlist

pairing: dadbur x AFAB reader (gn pronouns)

tws: none!

notes: iin honor of speak now tv!!!!! ive never written dadbur before and ive also never written many parent dynamic type things? but this is way too fucking cute as a concept so <;3

word count: 1.1k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @ghostsacrosslndnfields / @melunnek

When you had Tallulah, Wilbur sobbed the first time he held her. He had been so supportive throughout the pregnancy, and he was scared to death the entire time as well, worried that he wouldn’t be a good dad, or that something would happen to you.

So the first time he held your little girl in his arms, he sobbed out of love and happiness, kissing her head and whispering about how he’d never let anyone hurt her or break her heart. You could already tell he was going to be a great father. When she gently wrapped her hand around his finger, he suddenly felt like everything was going to be okay. The world had never seemed so quiet.

He was incredibly attentive after she was born. He was constantly with her, and he took so many photos and videos of her as she grew up. He did have to go on tour eventually, but he would call every day, and he’d look at every photo and video every night to remember what he was coming back to.

When he came back from tour, she’d grown so much.

“My little ‘Lulah,” he cooed, holding her close in his arms, “You need to stop growing, ‘Lulah. Before I know it, I’ll be beating up any person who tries to break your heart.”

You chuckled, leaning into him gently, “I wish she could stay this little forever.”

He smiled, gently kissing her head. She rested her head on his shoulder, babbling sleepily. She was about 15 months old now, and she was such a sweet child already. She had pieces of her father’s wild soul, but she carried more of his quieter traits.

“Here,” he passed her over to you, “Let’s go tuck her in. I wanna play her a song.”

You held her and walked to her bedroom, while Wilbur followed with his guitar strapped along his back. As you set her down, he sat down next to her crib, playing a soft tune on his guitar for her as she fell asleep.

As she grew up, Tallulah continued to be the spitting image of her father. Same mess of curly brown hair, and same big brown eyes. She was sweet and kind, always making sure that her friends were doing okay and wanting to help them. However, the similarities with her father meant she definitely got his sense of teenage angst. She was fourteen, and Wilbur was driving her to the movies with you riding shotgun. She looked nervous.

“‘Lulah? You alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she sighed softly.

“You don’t sound fine,” Wilbur added.

She frowned lightly, “‘M just a bit nervous, dad. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded softly, “Remember your breathing exercises in case, okay?”

“Yes, dad, I know,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m not a child.”

You and Wilbur shared a look, slight amusement on both of your faces.

Wilbur pulled up to the front of the movie theater, and you spoke up, “Be safe, and text us when the movie is over, but wait inside for us, okay?”

“Yes, I will,” she got out of the car quickly, and for a moment, she looked like she was going to slam the door shut.

“Bye, I love you.” She spoke softly.

“Bye, darling. We love you too,” Wilbur responded, and she closed the door softly.

You took Wilbur’s hand as you watched her walk in and meet up with her friends.

“You think she’ll be safe?”

“She’s your daughter, Wilbur. I don’t think we have to worry about if she’ll be safe, we should worry about if she’ll talk someone’s ear off.”

He laughed, kissing your hand gently, “God, I hate that she’s growing up. It feels like just yesterday she was just tiny.”

“I know,” you sighed softly, “I wish I could protect her from everything.”

“Me too,” he started to drive away, keeping his hand in yours, “We’ll be there for it all, though. We can’t protect her, but we can help her.”

“Is this your ploy to get her into music?”

“It’s not entirely a ploy,” you both laughed, swiftly heading back home.

“Dad, let me carry it, it’s fine,” Tallulah groaned, reaching for a box Wilbur was holding.

“I’ve got it, ‘Lulah. Don’t worry about a thing,” he smiled, carrying the box up to her apartment. Her first apartment. Neither of you were coping well with the thought, but she was only a two and a half hour drive away. You were so incredibly proud of her. She did follow in her father’s footsteps, but she learned every instrument she could find. Her hard work paid off, granting her a full-ride music scholarship. She also decided to minor in English as well, and it was weird to see your daughter so adult, even if she was just on the verge of 19.

You’d taken great care to helping her move in, making sure the place felt like home. Mostly by sneaking in little notes from you and Wilbur into every crevice you could find, to be discovered later. It was so odd, to see her in her own place now. Wilbur was setting up her internet while she made sure all of her instruments were in their proper place (she always had a thing about making sure everything had its own specific place). Before you left, you placed a scrapbook next to her bed, filled with some of the photos of her, you, and Wilbur.

Leaving her and driving back home was messy. You and Wilbur both cried, and you caught a glimpse of her tearing up as well before you started on back home. It was so tough to leave her, even if you’d been watching her grow up and preparing for this for years. It was just hard to see her go off. The car ride home was quiet as well, his hand in yours as you wiped at teary eyes.

Late that night, you and Wilbur were lying in bed, just holding each other close. “She seemed so happy to leave. Do you think she’ll miss us?” You asked softly.

“I think so.” “Really? I just remember how happy I was to finally be away from my parents.” “Well, your parents weren’t exactly the kindest.” He noted.

“I know, but I mean, it’s the freedom and feeling grown up, right? I’m worried we’ll lose her for a bit.” “I don’t-” his reply was cut off by his phone going off. He grabbed it, smiling softly. “I don’t think we’ll have anything to worry about,” he turned the phone towards you, showing off Tallulah’s contact proudly.

He answered the call, and you both spoke to her as she got settled into bed for her first night alone, and you could hear just how much she missed you both in her voice.

#mar's 200 follower event #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #wilbur soot #mar writes #wilbur x reader #dadbur #dadbur x reader

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maukiki-but-cringefail · 2 months

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i swear to fucking god im not a hater but if i see another fucking badly-made thumbnail boring neurotypical straight guy with lame monotone voice talking over buncha mfb clips video of the worst metal fight beyblade takes ive ever seen with the unfunniest jokes im gonna rearrange the DNA sequence of the closest person to me to that of a Doto greenamyeri nudibranch because i swear to god just shut the fuck up.

how the fuck do you meatheads base how much you like a character over powerscaling and win ratio. would you prefer a wild bear over your own mother because the bear is stronger than her? thats how you fuckin sound like. i gotta rant this shit out because i had enough if i hear another fucking "ryūga da goat🥶🐐" "beyblade really is that serious🤣" "This show is so acoustic😵" "did you know that moses split the sea with a be-" WE FUCKING KNOW THE WHOLE WORLD KNOWS AT THIS POINT. ALSO IF YOU DEADASS USE AUTISM AS AN INSULT LET ALONE USE THE WORD ACOUSTIC OR ARTISTIC FOR IT STAY 7 KILOMETERS AWAY FROM ME AND ALSO DONT WATCH METAL FIGHT BEYBLADE EVERYONE IS GAY AND AUTISTIC YOU KNOW WHY⁉️ which cishet neurotypical out there makin spinning tops fight with neon green or blue whateverthefuck hair half the cast looks like they been hiding in closet before their debut episode.

PRIME example of these bad takes is , because of powerscaling again the hate on masamune ? i thought people hated him because they thought he was annoying (like how i did when i first watched it when i was little) (FOUR YRS OLD) and like id get that as in he talks alot or whatever but people hate him because. fucking. "he has a low win ratio and claims to be the number one blader" BITCH THATS A 15 YR OLD. or like around that age somewhere you get the point. so what if the taco doritos colour palette guy a little confident in himself bitch you hate fun you hate sillyness. people also use him as like a tool to praise kenta? constantly i see takes like "kenta is like masamune if masamune didnt suck" or something as in they both try to rise to the top and get stronger but one of them doesnt talk shit like did you know you can praise a character without putting down the other one motherfucker. another one is "masamune isnt a legendary blader because he talks shit but cant actually back it up" Hey my brother in Allah lets play a little game. which one of the fucking legendary bladers talks big about himself. you have ten seconds. 10...9...8....KING. KING IS RIGHT THERE .

also saw someone say damian shouldve been a legendary blader⁉️⁉️mf that boy was on rearrangement stereoids the effects of that wouldve already worn off by the time of metal fury how does that even WORKK😭😭 he was probably off with 3 big fucking pet dogs to eat custard pudding or sumn idk .Ryūga dickriding has been a thing for for ever but right now for some reason people decided they didnt talk about that guy enough. theres so many videos on him guys there are other characters to talk about i can write a three billion word essay on damian but i dont think i can say anything about ryūga that hasnt been said at this point. also the people who claim hes alive BECAUSE hes alive in the manga is crazy like yall cant see those as two different universes? im not saying wether if i think hes alive or not this isnt about that dont miss the point. i wanted to make text posts about mfb for forever but i was embarrased for god knows why so i just posted my mfb fanart on my main but i cant take it anymore (eatina burger with no honey mustard) must speak this time im afraid

also sorry if this is hard to read im not good at ending sentences where i should punctuation jumpscare. powerscaling mfs will hear u say u like a character like for example tsubasa or sumn and immediately bring up ryūga like shut the fuck up this shit happened on twitter i dont even use twitter i opened the app for 000.1 seconds. you just jelaous ryūga will never serve like did mf also im not a ryūga hater anyways i reached the character limit fuck

#rant post #Sorry i had to . FUCK.#mfb #beyblade #beyblade metal saga #metal fight beyblade #beyblade metal fight #beyblade metal fury #ryuuga #Ryūga #masamune kadoya #me if i was written by vivziepop

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stitchwraith-stingers · 4 months

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HAII!!! SURPRISE GIFT JUMPSCARE!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!! luv u all!!!

lampwick for @castlingvanias , sophia carter for @springbonnie-fanclub , amaya izumi for @valleyfthdolls , heath for @frindoka, ocha for @toothlesstdm , satoshi for @cobrajacky and GLaDoS for @bearionette

tried to get every detail on these guys sorry if i missed something </3 ALSO IM SORRY FOR ANY SHAKEY LINES THE MOUSE I USUALLY USED DECIDED TO STOP WORKING THE MOMENT I STARTED TO WORK ON THIS AND I HAD TO USE MY SISTERS GAMER MOUSE RIP

seperate versions under cut + extra words <3

andrew - HI ANDREW SORRY IK UR IN UR PKMN BRAINROT MOMENT RN BUT I ALWAYS LOVE TO DRAW LAMPWICK EVEN THOUGH I DONT KNOW HER AWHOLE ALOT <333 thank you for making pinnochio yuri real in ur adapation and i did not expect you to follow me after i found ur andrew art that one time and im still so happy i mananged to name one of ur aus AKJDKJ ALSO YOU JUST ALWAYS HAVE THE BEST OPINIONS EVER . EVERYTIME YOU GO INTO MY ASKBOX TO TYPE AN ESSAY UR THAT ONE GUY WRITING ON FIRE GIF... COOLEST PERSON IVE EVER SEEN

bonnie - THANK U FOR HAVING SUCH BASED OPINIONS I LOVE THE IDEA OF TRANSFEM JULIUS... estrogen probably saved her... GRAHH I LOVE UR PIXEL-ISH ART STYLE AND YOU ALSO JUST GET IT.. YOU GET EVERYTHING AND I ALWAYS TRUST U W FAZ FRIGHTS OPINIONS..... yes rouge thank you for listening to my insane ramblings about peeing in a hot topic /ref (how faz frights yuri should be more popular)

onyx - GRAHH I LOVE UR IDEAS SO MUCH UR SO GOOD W WORDS i love ur au as well AND I LOVE UR IDEA OF VANNY / VALENTINE....that one time you made a comment about how ur impressed w the fact i can draw in ms paint has stayed in my mind i dont know why ..... ONE HUNDRED BILLION TRILLION SMILES AND HUGS... UR SO COOL AND EPIC WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE IT

fret - HII FRET .. NOT ALOT OF WORDS CUZ WE ARENT SUPER CLOSE SORRY </3 ur art is so epic and awesome and i love how you draw tufts so much ... i did not expect you to refind me again after i dissapeared from twt LOL but so cool and epic... i tried to get heath as accurate as possible but i couldnt find a ref that wasnt from september and i wasnt sure if it was updated so im sorry if i got anything wrong </33 i LOVEDD doing the stripes so much sorry the ones on the tail look so rushed

lillie - WE DONT TALK ALOT EITHER!!! I LOVE HOW COMPLICATED YOU CAN DO ANY DESIGN!!!!!!!! i tried to challange myself to get it fully accurate to the ref i found.. yeah that anon was me sorry....GRAHH UR ART IS SO PRETTY IM GRABBING YOU LIKE A SOPPY WET CAT.. PEACE AND LOVE ON THE PLANET EARTH you are the most joyus person on the planet i have ever seen i swear if i walk into your room it would be straight up the sun you are SO HAPPY AND POSITIVE I LOVE IT

charolette - HIII ... KEEPING THE RUNNING THEME OF ALWAYS MISPELLING UR NAME CUZ I CANT FIGURE OUT HOW TO SPELL IT.. YOUVE BEEN HERE THE LONGEST ... EVER SINCE MY DA DAYS AND MY DRTWT SHINANIGANS... i will forever mourn the fact the 'WHAT THE FUCK IS POISON GENDER' video where we dunked on some random romanian dudebro guy for making fun of my pkmn headcanons and we used danganronpa sprites is gone... ur the type of person to read the bible as if its some random every day novel and i think thats rad and cool.... this florust guy looks so cool i hope atleast he survives abit in ur fangan.. holding a cake that says IM SORRY THAT YOU KNEW ME WHEN I WAS 11

atlas - HI ATLAS... UR ART IS THE SHIT I LOVE IT... THE COLORS R SOSOSOSO BEAUTIFUL.. ONE BILLION SMILES FOR YOU AND I LOVE UR CASSIE DESIGN... IF I EAT UR ART IT WOULD PROBABLY TASTE LIKE MANGO... GRAHHH i cant believe we started to talk after you drew my cookie run oc that one time... ITS SO COOL TO SEE HOW FAR YOUVE GONE W UR ART.. i tried to keep the blocky shape of ur GLaDoS design AND IT WAS SO FUN TO EXPIRIMENT WITH..... yipee

#calico.exe #SORRY FOR ANY MISPELLINGS... PEACE AND LOVE ON THE PLANET EARTH #hope u all like it <3333 i speedran this in 2 days and i did not expect it either #ms paint #mspaint #artists on tumblr #my art #gift #gift art #SORRY FOR ANY OTHER MUTUAL WHO SEES THIS I PICKED THE FIRST 7 PEOPLE THAT CAME TO MIND #ALSO MERRY CHRISTMAS IF YOU DO CELEBRATE IT* IF YOU DONT SORRY #also special shout out to my slowed glass animals and the worst playlist i could have conjured up cuz i listened to them like 30 times #while making this

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utahlive · 1 year

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im sorry utah nation. I played videos game instead of working on an episode,, orz

on an unrelated note, I wanted to ask: does anyone have any tumblr themes or ways to make posts chronological? We have roughly 150 episodes of UtahLIVE, and although most of them can be read out of order, there is a timeline (plus it would be more convenient for new readers. Ive gotten a lot of asks about topics or scenarios that have already been answered). If there are any tutorials/themes/tips let me know via DMs or ask box!

additionally:

LETS GOOOOO!!! This is insane! 4000 people... thats roughly twice the size of the student body at my school. I dont know how many of you guys are porn bots, but im still going to take this W. I feel like I should do something special? People usually do community events for milestones I think so if you have ideas let me know?? Otherwise I’ll have something fun to post in the next week.

+ some quick q&a below

avoiding potential lawsuits 🙏

I know this one is meant for Wilbur, but alas thats just how I draw eyes. Sorry my art style gave your fave character cataracts. yeah its permanent. no sorry we cant fix it. um. insurance doesnt cover the surgery so hes like that forever. yeah. sorry

(i do like to mess with how I draw eyes, but the white color is a stylistic choice)

its a psycho-competitive relationship that can be construed to be romantic (but it's not explicit). obviously

anon im holding your hand so tenderly and lovingly. it means a lot that people like my art! more than I can say, which is why ive been trying to figure out how to answer this ask for the past like... two+ weeks since you sent it in! Im probably gonna hold off on sharing my other accounts for a few reasons (there might be some people who already know my other blogs which is fine idc welcome to my twisted mind etc im just not going to advertise them here). My main blog is basically a spam blog where I dont tag anything. I dont really post original art and my fandom art is few and far between. 90% of my work just goes in discord DMs or servers 💀 I think the main reason though-and this may or may not make sense to some of you-is that I don’t want your opinion of me to change how you view the story. This is a super specific example, but for all my fic readers out there: have you ever joined an authors server, and then after meeting them you feel a bit odd about the fic since the creator isnt exactly the person you thought them to be (not necessarily in a good or bad way)? That’s exactly what I don’t want happening with this blog. Basically: Nooo what if you find out about me as a person and realize im cringeeee aaaaa [image of the werewolf transformation (you know the one)] That being said, we’ll see how things go, I guess! At the very least, I’ll probably put my socials out when I’m done here (we got a ways to go before that happens though, so dont even start to worry about that) that was a lot of text for one answer. yeesh 😬 sorry about that

#utahlive #4th wall break #im a creep. im a weirdo #it is crazy as hell to see blogs and artists I really admire following this account #(image of the guy at the party) they dont know we're mutuals #also for the tntduo romantic ask; the implied answer there is that its up to you #I do have my own interpretation and canon but I know not everyone agrees so Im not gonna make it obvious one way or another #sorry for so many non-answer posts the past few days

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horrorscoupes · 10 months

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im supposed to be writing a term paper rn but instead im gonna explain why regulus’ listener does not need a dedicated name because ive been pondering it for like. a year

cw: the usual dehumanizing/demeaning/manipulative/etc regulus shit 👍

the biggest and most overarching theme of regulus’ storyline is and always has been a comparison of love and obsession/possessiveness, especially now that we’ve gotten some extra info on the guy they were seeing before regulus came back from the slammer. obviously there is something so incredibly wrong with him- both because he’s Like That but also because in a patreon stream erik said smth to the effect of “oh just wait until you see how he ended up like that” which to me means that something either deeply traumatizing or catastrophic led to regulus being the mangy beast he is today. <- this is supported (in my opinion) by how rampantly insecure he is shown throughout all of his videos, most noticeably in the beginning when he’s vulnerable about how he’s been lonely too (“I don’t want you to be nervous when you’re with me. I want you to feel safe. At home. Because that’s how you make me feel. You make me feel so warm inside. It’s been a very long time since I felt that way.” [Yandere Invisible Man Makes You His Forever (11:10)]). that quote among many others lends to the theory and idea that something happened to him/one of his charges/etc that irreparably affected his ability to maintain healthy boundaries. all of that is obvious tho.

i think that regulus choosing his listener as his charge (as opposed to being assigned to them as ive seen some people on here say)(“I believe they were not his official charge, but he has now kind of taken them on as an unofficial one… …They were not his-- they were never an official charge of his, but, y’know they are… He would now consider them a charge. I don’t know that they would agree.” Working on the Train Model and Hanging Out (2:34:00)) was very deliberate, since it’s very clear that for as long as he was in their house the first time, no one was overwhelmingly worried about their absence from the outside world. that isn’t to say that no one was worried at all, we still don't know how he got caught, but it’s obvious that his preying on them had to do with their predisposed social isolation. this is clear to me because he watched them for a great deal of time before he ever intervened.

before i get to the main point i also want to chime in on the ever present discourse of how he managed not to starve to death. in my opinion, there are two equally likely scenarios for his first stint with them, with one being far more likely for the second stint. his listener had close to no mental strength before him, and certainly did have much during his stay with them, so there’s no particular evidence that could prove he Never Ever put them to sleep (or just left them magically paralyzed) and left to filter feed out in the real world for a bit. i don’t know how likely that is after he got out of prison, but i don’t think it’s entirely out of the question. the second, probably more likely, possibility is that after days/weeks/months of nonstop love-bombing, physical affection, and manipulating regulus’ listener Did enjoy being with him. not in a conscious or happy sort of way, but by way of their body and brain reacting positively to his presence. when you don’t have anyone else, even an abuser can be a point of relief.

FINALLY onto the topic that i started word-vomiting over in the first place. i think that the most articulate and correct way to refer to them is as “regulus’ listener” for one very specific reason. i think that they are purposefully nameless. he doesnt call them by petnames or by their actual name because they don’t need it. they are not a person to him, they are a possession. he wrote over their memories of their boyfriend, wiping away the way him calling them “sweetie” made them feel, because he will never call them that in any kind way.

his most recent video gave A LOT of context to their living arrangement and the way that he controls them on a day-to-day basis (as all of my friends have suffered through hearing about lol). and i think that the context we learned is really important when set against all of the other manipulatorcore characters we get to see on there. it seems very vital that his listener has no name and no identity, but he still requests their permission to “help” them (“I can rework these memories. I can make them feel better than you could ever imagine. Mine. I can help. I can fix this. Can I help? Will you let me help? Please let me help.” Possessive Yandere Demon Rewrites Your Memories (4:03)). in doing this he offers them autonomy that he has no obligation to give, but he still won’t give them a name. because, as he calls them 52 times in that one video, the only thing they will ever be to him is “Mine.”

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted regulus #no hate to people that give them a name obv you guys have fun

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yonpote · 5 months

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under cut cuz i talk too much lol

i am not blaming dan or anything (and obviously this has been a joke in lgbt spaces for forever) but i do think he unintentionally enabled the like "homophobia is a good thing actually" type jokes and like i definitely make them too, and im always seeing jokes on here like "god why are they Like This" etc. but i think some people just dont know the line or view them so much as friends that they don't think about how it could read differently from someone who is essentially a stranger. ive said smth similar before of like, dnp (ESP DAN...) used to be not great at drawing boundaries esp since youtube and social media culture were so different back then, but now even when they draw hard lines ppl either continue to step right over them, or dont understand exactly where the line goes. they dont care if u write smut or dead dove fics, they dont care if u make shippy fanart, but like maybe dont tag them in buttsecks? (or maybe do, idk theyre being so unhinged lately maybe we gotta start @'ing them in catboy porn (JOKING))

i was talking w a friend a little bit ago about the exact differences between the generally speaking philosophies between older fans and younger fans. it seems that older fans embrace creating transformative works and having their own interpretations on who dnp are, whereas younger fans want to know dnp on a personal level and want dnp to know Them and recognize them not just as fans but as people. and OFC there are older phannies who want the parasocial interaction and younger phannies who write fic and people who do neither, and people who do both! (hi :3) but then some people have a difficult time being able to marry the two ideas maybe?

heres the truth. dan and phil are real human beings who have made a career largely off their shared dynamic together, BOTH because they genuinely enjoy creating and being together AND because a lot of people really get invested in it and it makes them more money. they don't mind fic or art, you probably SHOULDNT tag them in the saucy stuff, but they know it's out there and generally have been respectful of fan spaces and knowing where OUR boundaries lie (altho maybe the line was toed w the roblox video but thats debatable.) they really do care about their audience both in order to please us and keep us coming back, AND because they see how much theyve affected us as people and have a deep *Sarapocial Relationship with us.

there are both parasocial AND tranformative ways to break boundaries, and oftentimes they can be one and the same. they aren't our friends they arent our dads and they arent objects with no feelings. they don't stalk our accounts but they are still able to see whatever we post publicly. theyve seen so many horrible things and have had many horrible things happen to them, and while no one can be certain something like that won't happen again, now that they have been able to be more honest with us about a lot of things they are able to trust us a little bit more.

anyway ramble over back to me talking abt how dan should embrace their transness

#*sarapocial relationship (term coined by john and hank green):#the relationship that creators have with their audience and viewing the audience more like family or friends than just viewers #myrambles #mytext

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dnpbeats · 1 month

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I do feel like they are probably more open about 'acting like a couple' in public now, specifically bc that fear of being caught and outed is gone, because a) they are out now, and b) i dont think many people in their audience now would post a photo of them acting that way if they saw them in public, not for that reason, that wouldn't be the focus, and even less people i feel would engage with anything like that if they did see it online. Take that interveiw for example that dan did for wad, in 2016 'basically, yeah' would've be all people would talk about for years, and it would've been this massive thing, but bc it was published last year, it fizzled out really quickly bc it seemed like dan was pressured to say that, where as the tortoises quote is still being repeated daily bc he said that of his own free will and it was the gayest thing ive ever heard. So for the same reason if for example there was a photo of them holding hands or whatever in public, it wouldn't be as big of a thing, bc its not something they decided to share? If that makes sense? Where as if it was in a gaming video we would all talk about it forever.

This is all a long way of saying i think (i hope) they feel a lot less scared to exist as a couple in society now. However, with that being said, I think they have gone their whole relationship not showing a lot of pda, so I do think they wouldn't really do anything super coupley in public, bc i dont think its something they are used to at all. If I was them, it wouldnt be something I would feel comfortable doing at all, even after I was 'allowed to', especially with how much they value privacy. They know they care about each other, they dont need pda to show that they care, bc theyve never needed it before. Idk maybe im thinking about this too much.

you make really good points anon! I wasn’t rly thinking about that before u brought it up but I do think you’re right that their audience nowadays is a lot more respectful of their privacy and would not post/engage with things that they themselves did not willing share. And totally agree that they don’t need pda to show that they care for each other. And yeah I’m sure it would be weird for them after so long of not doing it! But I don’t think that that necessarily means that they don’t ever want to be at a point where they feel comfortable doing it yk?

#and dw lol i don’t think you’re thinking abt it too much!#ask #anon #d&p

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jils-things · 4 months

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happy new year! ; my farewell letter to 2023.

last year, ive written a similar farewell letter to 2022 and i want to make this a little tradition - so here's my second one <3

okay, so - wow. first of all, just wow.

this might be incredibly bold to say, but i think this has been my best year to be alive (i promise you i do not want to sound corny about it, but i really think 2023 was amazing for me.) of course, many things happened. im at my last year of senior high before i go to college, which is very scary but i hope i can be brave for it. school has been actually very generous to me recently, despite a few minor setbacks that looked very major when i was going through it, but overall it was very generous to me. but irl rambling is boring, so let's talk about my selfshipping blog!

last year, i had a verrrry firm grip on a previous f/o that im 100% sure old followers know - though im a little sad I can't find that spark to focus on him again - the shift in media has helped me find new f/os that i can say has been incredibly memorable to me. as we all know, im in a very INSANE pokemon brainrot since november or october(?) of 2022 and it has still remained heavily active in my head right now - which i honestly didn't even know i had the full capacity of doing! I don't know what magic this game did to me but i promise you im so happy i revisited this game again.

i would talk about how grateful i am to everyone has been supportive and sweet about my romantic f/os but i think the best highlight of my blog is my newfound love for my familial f/os - before that, i never had a single one on my list because i was simply quite disconnected to the family love concept, but after indulging myself in pokemon - i would come to discover pokemon adve.ntures, or poke.spe for short hehe. i have so many fond memories of finding myself wanting to read more and MORE - i would have every chapter downloaded beforehand just so that i can read it in my spare time, not even school that demanded my attention would stop me from sneaking my phone to quickly read through the manga LMAOO - but consuming the media itself wasn't enough, i needed people to understand the ROLLERCOASTER of emotions i had while reading and well, i think its very clear who those people were, the ones who came to save my miserable ass from (insert shocking scene in poke.spe) AHSJHSHSJSJS you know who you are and i appreciate you forever and they - i kid you not, helped me create something wonderful!

but of course, the video games were just as amazing. would you believe me if i told you i played gens 1 to 7 in one year? that's how much i adore the game and i still have yet to catch up to other games like the spin offs :] im not sure how to end this statement but. im so happy appleshipping and memoryshipping exists 🥹 i usually don't like thinking that they'll be with me forever because i believe nothing lasts for eternity but i just wanna say that they were just ... im just so contented 🥹 again, all of this actually would not have been so impactful to me if it weren't for my awesome mutuals hearing me out about it and supplying me with even more ideas - these mutuals would also end up becoming such loving friends of mine that helped me get out of my comfort zone and im still happy they're around (hi guys!) 💚

oh! and, what a surprise, i never thought id have an oc f/o! i initially thought that this was so impossible to do but?!??;?! it just happened i guess!!!! i keep surprising myself this year 😭

ok now here's the obligatory art summary for the year 💥

literally the best thing i ever done with my art is try using csp and it actually really helped me change the way i draw, and i even managed to cross out a few items in my last year's resolution thanks to it! i still bounce between using ibispaint and csp but i certainly improved!

the last thing im forever grateful about are the people who has been consistently supportive of my art - especially the commissions, i can't stress it enough how much it has helped me outside and it allowed me to go beyond my comfort zone when it comes to my drawing skills :']] thank you all so much

and finally, big thank you to everyone who sent me nice letters to my tree 🥹💚 its a gentle reminder that im actually ... pretty cool ig 🥹 and if you didn't send one, that's also ok!! you're still cool for reading this mwamwa

again im so bad at ending posts like these but cheers to a new year and let's hope it'll be better for everyone. 💚🫡 goodbye 2023!

#~ misc #~ rambling

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physicsfox7 · 7 months

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I was just about to go to bed. I was thinking about all the time ive spent the last few weeks with my friends. We talk, we play games together, we stream, we watch videos and trade stupid memes. We support each other. Then I had a realization.

A bit of backstory first, for anyone who doesn't know (how could you not? I never shut up). Growing up, my dad worked all the time to provide for us, so I spent all of my time with my mother and sister. Over time, this developed in to "I dont know how to interact with guys." I mean, I do. Now. As long as its not the hypertoxic, hyper masculine nightmare that I have abhored since I was young.

I have always hung out with girls. In school, 4 of my closest friends were girls. I was always surrounded by a group of girls. I'd rather sit with them. Yeah, I know they can be toxic and vicious and gross too. But for whatever reason, I can talk to girls in a way that I can't talk to guys. (There are always exceptions to the rule, and yes, a couple of my dearest friends are guys, and we can vibe)

Anyway, on to my realization. A large portion of my friends are trans. There is an inside joke about this that is way too funny, and I still giggle when I think about it. Some of my friends I knew before they figured out that they are trans, some I met just after, and some have been on HRT for a time.

I have surrounded myself with people who have every right to be angry, to hurt others, to hate the world. Not for who they are, but for how they are perceived and treated. What the US government is doing might be the most disgusting thing I have heard about since the 1930s. My friends have been spat on, they cant go outside as themselves, some have been verbally and physically attacked. And every other trans person has to live woth that thought every day. They have every right in the world to want to destroy people like me. Cis, White, American males who have grown up knowing little to no hardship (I do whine a lot, but that's for the other bits of my blog) and being happy and comfortabla and feeling at home in my skin.

But they don't. They aren't mean. They are warm, and genuine, and wholesome, and caring, and doting, and loving. Every single trans person I know, without fail, is a lovely human being.

From personal experience alone, they have gone out of their way to make me feel included, and important. They help me when I need help, they spend time with me, they do things that I'm interested in and talk about my topics of interest. They support me in new and ever expanding ways. And they're happy to do it. Its not false, they aren't trying to get something out of it. In all reality, I dont have a lot to offer and I'm pretty clear about that when I start talking to new people.

They are just kind. I can't say for sure why that is, but I strongly suspect they get up every day and see the hatred aimed at them and consciously decide to be a positive force in the universe, even when they're being beaten down.

I am awe inspired. I want to be a better person and a better friend because my friends are so good to me. And frankly, I dont deserve them.

I was a terrible fucking person just 5 or 6 years ago. All the usual tropes apply, I'm not going into it here. If you care enough ask in the comments.

But for all of that, and yes, I have talked with each of them about what a PoS I was, they still show me love and kindness. I dont deserve friends like that, but I will forever try to earn the love and respect they have shown me.

Please, if you can, please hug your trans friend for me today. Because none of mine are close enough, and the only thing I want in this world is to show them that they are genuinely loved. And who doesn't like hugs?

Growing up, I had friends. Who doesn't? Some were good, some were better, some were bad. But what I never had was a family. And that's exactly what this is. I hate calling it a found family, because I didn't "find" them, they saved me. We are together, as a cooperative group for the betterment of each other and the world around us.

I will endeavor every single day to make the world around me better, and try to show the genuine compassion and caring my family has shown me, to others.

That joke? My handle across every single platform is Fox, in one manner or another. I have adopted it, and for all intents and purposes it is me. Foxes like eggs. Its a small thing, but when my friend said it to me, I thought my heart exploded. I was allowed to be included. I am included, I'm not secondary or tertiary, I'm not on the sidelines. I may forever be the wallflower of the family, the one who is willing to walk behind everyone else because the sidewalk isnt wide enough, but I will forever sleep better because you let me be part of the family.

I have unconsciously surrounded myself with people who will show me patience and kindness, compassion and love. I might not have gotten enough of that growing up and that's why I searched it out. But I have found the place I belong, and it's only fair that everyone else does too.

I say this all the time, but I hope its not too old. Thank you for letting me be a part of your lives, letting yourself be shared with me. I love you so dearly (this goes for all of my family and friends, but i bet you already knew that) that my heart feels it might burst.

And seriously, go hug your trans friend today. Just pick one, give them a warm, attentive hug, and when you pull apart, tell them you love them. Dont ever stop telling your friends you love them.

I generally dont farm interactions, it feels cheap. I mean this with all sincerity: tell me about your trans friend in the comments. I dont care if its one sentence or one thousand, I want to hear something you love about them.

So for once, new rule: do interact, do comment and repost. I want to hear about them.

💚

#actually autistic #transgender #trans rights #wholesome #found family #appreciation post #thankful #i finally feel like i belong #long post #hugs and kisses #stronger with support #support

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