#i actually listen to these while studying

[unacknowledgeable]

SK!Reader x Yan!Batfam: Not in the plan

I have thoughts about the batfam going yandere before finding out about Reader being a serial killer.

Because if the fam go yandere before finding out, this gives them time to formulate their own perceptions of the reader, based on their limited knowledge of them and a lot of wistful thinking, so there's now an illusion built that can be shattered. 

It’d definitely be a slower roll into being yanderes, because they view the Reader as a full civilian and obviously don’t want to scare them off. They only really have the media's view of the Reader, and Alfred's view to make assumptions off of, which both are pretty biased tbh.

 They end up forming this version of Reader that is quiet but charming, social but reserved, irritable but kind, meek but shrewd, etc etc.

So they start off slowly, with little things, like Tim bumping into them on the street then offering to buy coffee, running into Steph while buying groceries, Jason waving at them from across a clubs dance floor, Bruce cutting in during their chat with Gordon at a Gala, getting “leftovers” from Barbara whenever she brings her dad lunch at the station, being asked for your math notes by Duke, Cass having Alfred give you tickets to her dance recitals, Damian entering rooms you’re in without making a snide comment, Dick inviting you to family game night–

The list of tiny ways they try to insert themselves is endless and every new acknowledgement from the family leaves the Reader fucking terrified.

Reader stares, bug eyed, at Tim for his offer, falls into a shelf at Steph's excited hello, downs a shot before running to the the club's bathroom to climb out the window when Jason tries to approach your seat at the bar, tripping a waiter to distract Bruce while you ditched the Gala, nearly back handing Barbara because you were listening to music and you didn't hear her come in, asking Duke ‘what math notes?’ ...while studying said notes, saying ‘no, you couldn't make the recital because you had to water a friends dog that day’ before quickly leaving the kitchen, throwing a book at Damian when he moved to close because the only times he’s ever been this quiet around you is when you're inevitably stabbed, or flinching so hard when Dick reaches out a hand to clap your shoulder, he thinks he somehow actually hurt you and the look of fear in your eyes gives off such a startling sense of deja vu, it leaves him despondent for the rest of the week.

 So now the batfam are thinking “Why the fuck are they panicking so much? oh god did we seriously fuck up so badly they're afraid of us?!?!?! DD: Why are they so uneasy??? It can’t just be because they’re estranged from them. Can it??” And now they're getting increasingly desperate to fix this because this wasn't supposed to be so difficult, but now it is and that's making it more intriguing and thus higher on the family’s list of priorities. 

Meanwhile… from the start, the Reader is just-

Because despite outward appearances, Reader is constantly paranoid as fuck. We’re talking Batman levels of paranoia. Hard not to be when he’s literally your dad. You have contingencies for your contingencies, escape routes by the dozen out of the city and out of this mortal plane itself, if needed. You had plans for every conceivable possibility, just not for this. 

You're now met with such a glaringly obvious flaw in how you go about life in general, the way you live and how you operate as a serial killer, it all hinges on the idea of the family never turning their attention your way. It wasn't even an option and now it’s happening and you had no idea how to function because this isn't normal at all. Now you're actually forced to put in more than 25% of brain power to bury any possible leads and dissuade any possible connections to yourself and the silent terror on Gotham, while also trying to figure out what the hell happened.

Safe to say, this cat and mouse game is no longer fun for you.

I'm meltingggg. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, I'm going to bed bleh

X-X

Masterlist

[pinkaditty]

Starstruck Coral (Romeo Lucci x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

okay so uh. i don’t really know how to explain this one. like truly i don’t. i feel like it came 2 me in a vision from a higher power or something bc this doesn’t feel like it was my own idea, much less self-indulgent, but regardless??? i actually like it!!!!

a/n: what i can say is that this was directly inspired by me buying this lip plumper tint called "Starstruck Coral" and how literally everyone around me once i put it on was like "ITS SO PRETTY!!" so yea. that's what this is. also. yea. been writing a lot of porn-free fics lately. don’t worry, im not uninspired. rather, i just wanna focus on budding feelings 4 a little while. then it’ll be back 2 porn i promise. im too insane 2 be kept from porn 4 very long i fear. 

maybe part 2? maybe? idk yet i dunno. i might. i might not. we’ll see what my brain says…

summary: romeo cannot stand your visage so he styles it to his liking. why are you suddenly the belle of the ball? (leo, rui, haru, ed, and lyca make guest appearances here lol)

cw: some sexual comments. minors dni as per usual. no smut i fear!

“...Why are we doing this, again?”

“Shut up.” Romeo’s voice is practically seething with barely restrained anger as you interrupt his focus for the umpteenth time. He holds up one finger in the air towards you, not even turning to look at you. He slowly puts his finger down, and his hands twitch, clearly resisting the urge to ball into fists. “Just shut up. Let me handle this.”

Romeo continues perusing the available colors. Pearlescent White, Modest Matte Mauve, Cherry Pop Red, Hot Tease Pink, Starstruck Coral, and Raven’s Wing Black. He narrows his eyes and whips his head around to your face, studying your features intensely. His eyes pause on your lips, and he frowns as you roll them between your teeth nervously. 

“Would you stop-! Urgh, nevermind.” He starts before abruptly stopping, turning fully towards you and grabbing your face, directing it in different angles in the light. He pays strong attention to your lips, noting the thickness, color, and shape of them. He grumbles to himself, looking back at the colors on the shelf. Only one seems to be a perfect match.

Starstruck Coral. That’s the one.

He plucks it off the shelf and places it in the basket before stalking off to the cash register. He knows you know to follow him, and you do, meekly following his steps, still unsure of the purpose of this outing. You shift idly from one foot to the other as he pays at the cash register, listening to the general ambiance of the store. People chattering, items being scanned, wheels of carts rolling along the tile floor. You’re idly reading the label of a pop culture magazine when Romeo appears at your side, sour expression etched into his face. It makes you jump, and he looks at you with an even sourer expression. “Let’s go,” is all he says, his voice loud and demanding, leaving little room for argument. He walks off again, casting a look over his shoulder to ensure you’re following him, which you are, confused expression still stuck on your face. 

The two of you return to the Darkwick train station through a door labeled “Employees Only”, careful not to get caught. Once you board the train, Romeo unceremoniously tosses the bag of products towards you and sits across from you. His expression is enough to broadcast that he’s more than over this, despite having spent hours meticulously scanning the available products to find the ones that best matched your skin. He studies you again as you take your seat and the train begins to move. His eyes rove over your face again, as though picking apart your appearance in search of flaws. He hardly flinches when you look up and catch his gaze, though when you nervously turn away, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go on. Ask what you want to ask.” His voice comes out exactly as exasperated as he’d meant it to be. He would hope this would discourage you from asking any questions, but he knew better than that.

He watches you shift nervously before speaking up, looking down at your fingers fidgeting with the bag instead of making eye contact with him. “...What is all of this for?”

He exhales, already sick of answering your questions even though he hadn’t answered any. “That anomalous cloak does not do your makeup for you.” Part of him assumes this would be enough explanation, but at your still confused expression, he rolls his eyes and continues explaining. “I am tired of going on missions with someone as basic and unappealing as you. If you are going to be a constant, I insist you at least know how to do your makeup to fit in when we go on high-class missions.” He doesn’t bother sugarcoating anything. Instead, he leans back in his seat again, deciding this was a job well done. He hears the crinkling of the bag and pops one eye open, watching you as you study the products in the bag. You pull out the Starstruck Coral lip tint and suddenly you have his full attention. He opens both eyes and tries to discreetly lean forward, watching as you turn the box around in your hands. He was awful proud of that choice. It was the perfect ombre blend of coral and pink, not too warm and not too cool. It would match your undertone perfectly and it even had a shimmering quality to it. So long as you wore it right, he was sure it’d refine your appearance an exceptional amount. 

After finishing praising himself for his genius internally, he leans his head back onto his seat, content to just get this over with. As long as you didn’t look as constantly unappealing as you usually did on missions, it would be fine. He couldn’t get why, but it irritated him. Granted, your skin was okay at best. There were some acne scars here and there, blackheads all over your nose, and slightly puffy undereye, which he suspected was from not getting enough sleep on this accursed campus. Other than those faults, your skin was okay. No visible outbreaks or dryness. He had to applaud you for at least taking his advice to heart and moisturizing a little bit. It had done noticeable wonders, at least to him. 

He hears the unmistakable sound of plastic wrap being torn, and he perks up again, noticing you unwrapping the Starstruck Coral lip tint. He leans forward again, curiosity suddenly bubbling within him. “Put it on.” He says before he can think about it, his eyes focused on the small unwrapped box in your hands.

“...Huh?” You give him a puzzled look, tilting your head. His eyes flick towards you in annoyance and he gestures towards the box, his eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“Don’t be dense, put it on!” 

You nod hurriedly, and he can tell from the way your eyes glimmer that you’d wanted to try it. He has to resist the urge to smile, your subtle but affirming reaction filling him with pride. He watches as you open the box and pull out the lip tint, turning it over in your hands before unscrewing it open. Romeo can already feel himself growing impatient, idly tapping his foot as he waits for you to start. “It may be a little messy because I don’t have a mirror, but I’ll do my best.” You warn him, finally unscrewing the tint, admiring the pretty ombre color. He sits up when you speak, and unbeknownst to you, a scowl crosses his face momentarily. You hear his footsteps before you see him, crossing the short distance across the train in record speed and snatching the tint away from you before you could apply it with shaky hands. 

When you look up at him questioningly, he shakes his head, holding the tint and applicator brush in his hand. “Just hold still.” 

With that, he leans over you, placing the thin tube of tint in your hands and firmly holding your chin, his eyes seemingly glued to your lips. “Open.” When you do as he says, he gently applies the tint to your bottom lip, pursing his own lightly glossed lips as he focuses. He exhales, and fails to notice the way you shiver, his breath fanning over your neck. His knuckles gently press into the soft skin of your cheek and chin as he carefully follows the border of your lips, watching as the plush skin yields to the pressure before plumping up again. Somewhat caught between a haze of his intense focus applying the tint and unexpected fascination with the buoyancy of your lips, Romeo accidentally smudges some of the tint. Despite his bubbling annoyance at his own blunder, for a moment, it’s an almost charming imperfection. The lip tint glitters against your skin, smudged just off the corner of your parted lips. If he were any more brazen, he would have given in to the odd temptation unfurling in his stomach to simply kiss it away. Fortunately for him and his own reputation, he’s far more proper than that. With a pointed glare at the corner of your lips, he wipes away the smudge with his gloved thumb. He glances at the sparkling residue left on his glove before wiping it away onto your top lip. When you flinch in response, he has to suppress a shiver down his spine. This action was inexplicably intimate, yet he didn’t understand where his flusteredness was coming from. There was no reason to act nor feel like this.

He applies the tint to your top lip in a more rushed fashion, suddenly wanting to replace the earlier distance between you two. He frowns when he finishes, nitpicking any slight smudges or missed spots, before stepping away, admiring his work. “There.” He plucks the tint from your grasp, screwing the applicator back on and tossing it into the bag. “...This might be good enough,” he says, feigning confidence, but he can hear the way his voice wavers with uncertainty, a part of him itching to do more. His gaze flickers upwards to meet yours and an idea pops into his head. He could do your lashes. They were long by itself, but some of the mascara he’d bought couldn’t hurt. Despite himself, he finds himself sitting back down in front of you, reaching for and holding your chin firmly again. He turns your head every which way, determining what else he could do to refine your appearance some. Unfortunately, he’s aware this train ride ends soon, and he feels himself getting nauseous at the idea of spending more time with you than he has to, despite the anticipation crawling up his spine. He reaches for the bag again, pulling out the mascara he’d bought earlier. When you reach out your hand to apply it yourself, he gently swats your hand away. “No. Hold still.”

He doesn’t give you much choice, still holding your chin and pulling your face closer to his. He purses his lips again, telling you not to blink as he applies your mascara. He finds himself staring at your eye color, noting the color of the mascara in comparison. Perhaps next time he ought to choose something that made your eyes stand out more, or maybe that’d be easier done with some eyeshadow in the correct shade. He decides to halt his thoughts there, scowling. He had to focus, and he was damn well sure there wouldn’t be a ‘next time’. He internally recoils at the thought of having to peruse the shelves with you over his shoulder again, constantly shifting your expressions, making it harder for him to focus. The slight furrow in your brow even now was distracting, and all he could think about was how he wanted to remind you that frowning causes wrinkles, and you would be especially susceptible to them if you didn’t keep up your skincare regime. Instead, he lets go of your chin and flicks you between your brows, frowning at you himself. When you get the message and relax your expression, he nods appreciatively and continues his task, moving to your other eye. 

Finally, the task was complete. His eyes flick back and forth between your eyes, watching as you blink at him dubiously. When satisfied, he pulls away, screwing the applicator back into the mascara and observing your face. Your eyes seemed wider and brighter, and the added mascara helped your lashes appear longer. Your lips were bright and shimmering, still covered in that Starstruck Coral color. Romeo smiles to himself, proud with how he managed to turn around your appearance with so little. He reaches for your face again, holding your cheeks with considerable tenderness, as though scared one wrong move would smudge and ruin the perfect portrait of you. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath as he gazes at you, checking your entire face for imperfections, glazing over the negligible or unnoticeable imperfections that couldn’t be immediately cleared. He exhales, feeling himself gleam with pride as a reluctant smile digs into his cheeks yet again. He sits down beside you, still holding your face. “Non c'è male…” He mutters to himself, finding his gaze lingering again on the pretty ombre mesh of pink and orange and red on your lips. Truly, Starstruck Coral had been the right choice. 

He’s basking in his pride more when he hears the shutter click of a camera, and a whistle in a familiar voice. “Now this will do numbers on WickHive.” The same familiar voice cackles and Romeo already knows he hadn’t moved away quickly enough to avoid the picture. One glance up and there he is, Leo, staring down smugly at his phone, where the incriminating image is probably being held. Surprisingly, hunched over Leo’s shoulder is Rui, inspecting the picture with a crease in his brow. Romeo cannot believe his lack of luck. 

Romeo catches it when Rui makes eye contact with you, and it doesn’t escape him how Rui’s eyes flicker with an emboldened interest. Stepping past Leo, Rui heads to you with an extra skip in his step, wide smile already spreading across his face. His voice is higher than usual, and Romeo wonders if mere makeup was enough to trip up the ladykiller himself. “Woooow, MC!” He stops a short distance away from you, his eyes flickering across your face as he takes in your makeup. “You look cuter than usual today. What’s brought this on, huh?” Rui’s tone is filled with mirth as he pokes your nose playfully. Romeo stiffens and has to bite back the urge to swat his hand away from your face. 

Romeo carefully watches your reaction, and is almost relieved when you don’t smile immediately. “You like it? I haven’t seen how it looks yet.” You reply to Rui, a little hesitant but clearly glad for the praise. 

Rui sticks his bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Awww, you should! You look so cute!” His face breaks out into a wide smile again, and it’s almost crushingly obvious that Rui’s a flirtier version of Kaito at this point. “I’m assuming we have you to thank for this, hm?” Romeo looks up to notice Rui’s gaze on him as Rui vaguely gestures in your direction. 

Romeo doesn’t resist the urge to puff his chest out a bit, folding his arms indignantly. “Indeed.” His terse answer doesn’t hide his swelling pride, he’s aware, but brevity is the soul of wit, which he likes to claim to possess.

“He picked out some makeup items for me.” You chime in, holding up the bag with a relaxed smile. It seems you’ve finally taken to Rui’s compliments. 

Rui shakes his head with a complicated look in his eyes, clearly picking up on the message behind the gift, but happy for you nonetheless. “Well, leave it to Romeo to pick out such a pretty color. It suits you.” Rui winks at you before finally finding a seat on the train, just across from you, taking Romeo’s former seat.

Leo, who’s clearly been either editing the picture or waiting his turn to soak up all the attention, saunters up to you, smug smile still on his face. Romeo doesn’t miss how your earlier smile seems to fade all at once. He would laugh, but it’s not that funny. 

“Gotta say, I agree with Rui. Who knew…” Leo trails off, his fingers reaching for your chin and holding it with uncharacteristic tenderness, tilting your face upwards towards him. Romeo notices how you stiffen at the contact. “...That the honor student could be—” Leo suddenly snaps his lips shut, and Romeo can tell from the way his lips purse despite being in a smug smirk that he had to bite back a compliment. Leo only falters slightly, brow creasing minutely before quickly straightening again, lips quirking back up into a teasing smile, more words as demeaning as they were saccharine sweet on the tip of his tongue. “Well, it suits you. You might even be unrecognizable enough to pass as a beauty in this picture.” Leo smirks, waving his phone in his hand. 

Romeo finds himself intervening before he can really think about it. He swats Leo’s hand away from your chin. “Stop that. You’ll smudge her foundation.” A blatant lie, but it would be sound enough to get him to back off, Romeo hopes. Something about this was fraying at his nerves. 

Leo raises a crooked brow at Romeo, a slow, shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “I don’t know, Romeo. The blackheads on her nose account for a lack of any foundation at all. Nice try, though.” Romeo should be thankful Leo lets it go, but all he can do is turn away indignantly, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. He hears a chuckle before light footsteps padding away, and gently exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. By god, of all people to board the train at that moment… 

Rui walks at a much faster pace than you and Romeo, strained expression on his face. He’d left Lyca and Ed in charge of the bar while he was off on a short mission, as he explained earlier, and could only hope that they hadn’t mistakenly set the bar on fire. 

Romeo was headed to the bar for drinks, and as far as he was concerned, you were coming with him. The earlier incident with Leo convinced him he cannot let you out of his sight for today. Leo had cited some excuse for not coming to the bar, but Romeo could tell from the grin Leo flashed his way that he can expect that picture to be all over WickHive by evening. A drink to forget it, even temporarily, would be enough for Romeo. 

Rui heaves a sigh of relief as he steps into the bar, glad to find nothing on fire nor destroyed, but Lyca doing the work while Ed sits perched at the bar. A red shock of hair buried in a white sleeve also denotes another guest. Romeo has to grit his teeth, remembering how Haru went on and on about you after first meeting you. He can only imagine the endless waterfall of praise he’ll surely come up with on the spot seeing you even remotely dolled up. He makes a mental note to bring painkillers for the inevitable headaches he gets when he comes here and Haru happens to arrive. 

Clearly, Romeo needs to be more forthright about how he’s trying to protect his ears, because when you plop yourself down in the seat right next to Haru, all he feels is dread. He quickly slips into the seat on your other side, despite there being no remaining danger. 

Rui, finally behind the bar, gently nudges Haru. He immediately raises his head, and Romeo can’t tell if he woke up that quickly or was already awake and out of it so soon. The faint blush on his face indicates the latter. As Haru reorients himself, Romeo notices Lyca peering at you oddly. He’d never so much as heard this boy speak, but something tells him he’s going to be as much as, if not more of, a headache than Haru. 

“Oh, hi MC-! …Wait. Something’s different about you.” Haru’s voice had its classic drawl it always had when he’s getting close to being hammered. Romeo’s sure it’s loud enough to be heard from Obscuary’s entrance. He watches, jaw clenched tight as Haru inspects you. Boldly, and probably not realizing how drunk he is, Haru reaches out, his gloved fingers lightly tracing the skin above your eyebrows. Romeo notices you don’t recoil at this touch, but he doesn’t know if it’s because you know he’s drunk or if you happen to not dislike Haru. Both options are less than ideal.

Puzzled expression still stuck on his face, Haru traces his fingers downwards, caressing your cheek. “Yea…” He mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the path of his fingers. “Something’s…” his fingers reach the corner of your lips, “...Different…Oh!” His eyes widen like it’s finally occurred to him, and his gaze remains transfixed on your lips, shimmering coral color still bright and undisturbed on them. “You’re wearing makeup!” 

“Is that what that is?” Lyca cuts in, suddenly appearing behind you, craning his neck to get a good look at your face. He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing your appearance before leaning away, satisfied. He crosses his arms, a light blush dusting his face as he tries to ignore the staring he just did. “Hmph. It’s pretty.” His compliment is short and terse, but Romeo can tell from your relieved sigh that you’re happy to receive it nonetheless. However, said compliment is quickly followed up by: “...You reek of the damn blond gigolo, though.”

Rui stiffens behind the bar, cleaning a glass. “Come on, my cologne isn’t that potent.” He looks up from his task to find all five of you avoiding his gaze. 

Ignoring Rui��s distressed cry of shock, Haru turns to you again. “Lyca’s right. It is pretty. Though…” Haru leans towards you, his chin propped up in his hands, “I always thought you were quite the looker, you know.” His smile is disarmingly handsome, even to Romeo. His flushed cheeks and lovestruck gaze probably only add to it. Romeo suppresses a gag, turning away. 

Rui, having partially recovered from the prior shock, also leans towards you, resting his cheek in his palm, partially hiding a cheeky smile. He hums in agreement with Haru, nodding. “Can’t disagree with that. You’re an attractive gal.”

Romeo shivers, ready to pull you away from Haru and Rui’s gazes. When Lyca cranes his neck to gaze at you again, Romeo snaps. 

“Will you horny dogs keep your dicks in your pants and your lascivious gazes off of her?!” He knows he’s one to talk considering the way your lips simply shimmering was enough to disarm him on the train, but still. This was ridiculous. 

“Really, now…” A soft, low, velvety voice echoes through the silence following Romeo’s outburst. Ed appears behind you, gently placing his hands over your ears. He mockingly frowns disapprovingly at Romeo. “Using such vulgar language in front of a lady…” He shakes his head and tuts a few times, a smile crawling onto his face. “Surely you know your manners?”

Rui chimes in, teasing grin all over his face. “He may need a refresher on them.”

With that, Haru, Rui, and Ed dissolve into snickers, just as Romeo bursts into a blush. Lyca, off to the side, looks a little confused. 

“I don’t get it. Why not use words like that in front of her?”

Romeo’s walking you home. He insisted on it. He wasn’t about to let a repeat of him being humiliated yet again by your side, nor was he going to let some other ghoul or normal human lay his eyes on you, at that. Maybe this makeup was a bad idea. But then, he turns to sneak a quick glance at you. Your expression appears quite pleased, and your shimmering lips are curled into a small smile. 

Well. Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea. 

“Thank you.” Romeo’s surprised to hear you pipe up, and turns towards you questioningly. 

“For what?”

“For the makeup.” You gaze at him kindly, giving him a small smile. He’s taken aback by it. “Can’t say you were kind about it, but I appreciate it regardless.” 

Romeo hardly stiffens at the comment. He knows he wasn’t particularly kind about it, but that’s the point. How else is someone who can hardly remove their blackheads going to take proper care of their skin? He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, letting his thoughts run around his head. Part of him wondered if he had another reason for buying you makeup in the first place, and why this entire gift felt like it was only going to bite him in the ass later. Maybe it already was, what with how you’d managed to catch the attention of every single ghoul they’d encountered today. But that didn’t make sense. Why would you gaining attention bite him in the ass? He shakes his head, a blush forming on his face as though he already knows the answer. 

“Shut up. Just use it on missions.” Romeo’s response is as terse as ever, quick and to the point. He watches as you roll your eyes, and something in him twinges, partially wishing he could’ve given a nicer comment. 

When you arrive at the chapel, he watches you bound up the steps, sticking around despite himself. He musters up an obligatory “Good Night,” right before you close the door on him, and he watches as your shimmering Starstruck Coral lips pull into a grin. 

“Goodnight, Romeo.”

He turns away as you close the door, ready to fill the rest of his walk back to Sinostra with more pondering. His phone buzzing in his pocket interrupts his peace, however, and he turns it on only to find an innumerable amount of notifications from WickHive. 

“Kurosagi…” He curses his name under his breath. “When I get you…”

a/n: yippee!!!!!!! im surprised i managed to finish this. i honestly like it a lot, i think it's really cute and i like the way i wrote it. i genuinely hope you guys like it too!!!!!

shameless note that, as usual, i love likes, comments, tagged reblogs, and asks!! please feel free to let me know in any way you like just how much you loved my writing! it's what keeps me going!

until next time!!!

EDIT BC I SOMEHOW FORGOT?: a few hc's im adding 4 relevance's sake:

rui wears strong cologne and douses himself in it

haru has grey eyes

that's all yippee!!

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT ONE: DO I WANNA KNOW?

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: You're studying on a Friday. Natalie doesn't like that.

wc: 4200 (blaze it) (im not funny)

warnings: none. I think.

a/n: happy birthday 2 me. here is another chapter. lowkey i wasnt planning on have two chapters in a row with a ? in them but oh well yolo and all that fun stuff. anyways this chapter is basically just two losers yapping (next one will b longer promise)

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - ACT ONE: HOW CAN I MAKE IT OK?

NEXT - ACT TWO: (idk yet titles are hard) (WIP)

The thing about Natalie Scatorccio is that she always seems to find you when you least expect it. It’s like she has a sixth sense, some radar that tells her exactly when you’re trying not to think about her—and then she shows up, smirking like she knows all your secrets. 

Today is no different. You’re sitting on the steps outside the library, flipping halfheartedly through a history textbook, when her shadow falls over you.

"Studying on a Friday, Princess?" She lets out a low whistle, "Now, that's tragic."

You roll your eyes and let a scoff fall from your lips, "Listen, not everyone can afford to just… throw caution to the wind or whatever. Some of us actually need to study."

Nat snorts as she fishes a cigarette out of her pocket, bringing it to her lips and lighting it, "I do study, just not on Fridays, like a nerd." She gives you a pointed glare, but it lacks any actual heat.

Without giving you a chance to object, she throws her duffle bag down on the steps next to you and sits down with a grunt. "Seriously, though." She ashes her cigarette, "Why're you sittin' alone out here, head in your…" She glances at the cover of your textbook, "history book when you could be doin' anything else?"

You shrug and close your textbook with a sigh, "I dunno. I guess it's just… the way things are, or whatever. Never really been the type of person who goes out on Fridays." Nat nods in understanding as she takes a slow drag from her cigarette, "Yeah, I get that. Nothin' wrong with that. But it gets boring after a while, yeah? Doin' the same thing every week, set in some constant routine?"

"I guess," You sigh and move to put your textbook into your backpack, "But don't you have routines? I mean, soccer and all that?"

"Yeah, I got some routine. Some days, I get up earlier than others to make it to practice. Some days, I spend some time after school kicking around a ball in the field. But that's not my point." Another drag of her smoke, "My point is that you can have some routine, but life is so fucking boring if that's all your life is." She rolls the end of the cigarette between her thumb and pointer finger for a few seconds before looking at you, squinting against the harsh light of the sun that beats down from behind you. "You gotta have something to shake it up every now and then, yeah? You don't gotta go to a party every week, but what's stoppin' you from goin' to one now and then?"

"It's just never been my scene, I guess. My friends and I don't really… do parties, you know? Like, we have small get-togethers or whatever, but we don't party. Never really seen myself as a party person, either." You shrug, zipping up your bag and moving it to rest on the step in front of you, "I dunno. I guess the…" You wave your hands around as you think of the proper words to use, "loud music and annoying people isn't exactly what I consider fun." A fond shake of your head and a gentle laugh, "But, hey, all the power to you if that's what you do find fun."

"You ever been invited to a party?" Nat chimes in after considering your statement for a few seconds.

You have to think about that question for a few seconds. "Yes." You finally manage, which earns you a skeptical look from the woman sitting next to you.

"Then why'd you have to think about it?" 

"Oh my God." You roll your eyes, "Because it's been a while since I got invited to one, alright? Like I said, I don't hang out with the type of people that go to parties. So…"

Nat hums at that, seemingly accepting the answer you've given her. "Alright. So what do you do on Fridays? Or the weekend? Or whenever you aren't with your nose in some book." She gestures to your backpack and the textbook inside of it by extension. "Nothin' wrong with it, but you gotta do something else, yeah?"

A huff leaves your mouth before you can stop it, "Well, you've caught me sketching once or twice, yeah? I'm a pretty big fan of that. Uhhh…" You think for a few seconds, feeling like this is an awkward first date where the person is asking, "What do you do for fun?" and it takes everything in you not to give out the most generic answers possible. "I think I mentioned meteor showers to you before? I, uh, I like stargazing. And I guess I kinda play games sometimes? Although it's usually just… simulation games or whatever. The mindless stuff."

"Right." The girl smirks to herself as she muddles over your hobbies in her head. "Drawing, stargazing, and simulation games. Yeah, you, my friend, are a walking funfest, you know that?" One last drag from her cigarette before snuffing it out on the step, "That stuff is fun and all, but you need some more excitement in your life."

"What? Like… stealing BuzzBalls from corner stores?" A faint smirk tugs at your lips, "Or taking joyrides in stolen Maseratis?" 

"First of all," Nat cuts you off before you can continue, "It was a Mazda. There's a huge difference. Second of all…" She hums and leans back, resting her elbows on the next step up. 

She looks over you in a curious sort of way, appraising your form and being. "You could skate. Could convince Kev to teach you a thing or two at the skatepark, as long as you aren't gonna cry if you fall. If you play simulation games, you might not be half-bad at pool or darts. Hell, even thrifting or something. Refresh your wardrobe. I swear, every time I see you, you're basically wearing the same thing, just in different variants." Then, a sly grin. "But the fun stuff? Bet I could teach you to tag stuff without getting caught. You're already an artist; you should leave your mark on some places, yeah?" Her grin widens, "Maybe I could even convince you to bust into an old factory with me." A beat, "Unless… you're afraid of ghosts?" Then, she's laughing to herself.

You try to fight the grin on your face, but it's hard when you find her smile to be one of the most contagious things you've ever seen. "I'm not afraid of ghosts, thank you." A dramatic roll of your eyes earns another laugh from Nat, her smile wide and plastered on her face like she's having the time of her life. "But, also… I dunno. Maybe I could be convinced to try something new." "Maybe?" Nat parrots, still half-laughing. "Nah. I will convince you to "try something new"; you just haven't seen how convincing I can be yet." A self-satisfied grin replaces the smile she was wearing, and she leans in slightly, lowering her voice. "And I can be real convincing, Princess."

And… yep. You're blushing again. Nat, of course, notices this. Her grin gets ten times toothier, clearly satisfied with herself, and she leans back again. "But," She shrugs—as if she didn't just fluster the shit out of you with a single sentence. "That's for a later date."

Before you get a chance to respond to that, you catch sight of two girls wearing practice uniforms approaching—a simple grey shirt with the mascot's name on it and some shorts. You've seen them around before; it's a small town, after all. 

Jackie Taylor—homecoming queen and captain of the girl's soccer team. Beside her, Shauna Shipman—who you… honestly don't know much about. You're pretty sure the two of them are best friends despite the fact that they seem like polar opposites. 

Something something opposites attract, or whatever.

"Nat." Jackie stops in front of the two of you, regarding you with a half-assed smile for a fraction of a second before turning back to Nat, "You will be at practice today, right? You aren't gonna ditch again to do—"

"Yes, Jackie. I will fucking be at practice, alright?" Nat cuts her off with a scowl and a roll of her eyes. You swear she's gonna add something else but opts against it.

"Well… good." Jackie nods, then glances at you for much longer than she did initially, a curious expression on her face. 

You don't have to guess why the expression is there, either. You aren't that dumb. You don't really look like the type of person Natalie Scatorccio hangs out with—not with your textbooks, sketchbooks, and meekness. No, you've seen the people she hangs out with. Misfits, mostly. There's that one goth kid, that guy with curly hair, and the redhead chick—who also plays on the soccer team with Nat. Then there are the… less than savoury characters. The people who she isn't seen around as much, but everyone knows she is around. Not hardened criminals per se, but people who are very, very rough around the edges. People who have longer rap sheets and far more "experience" being criminals than Natalie does.

Either way, Jackie doesn't comment on the stark difference between Natalie's usual crowd and you.

You give the team captain a tense smile as she looks at you, which she quickly returns before looking back at the girl sitting next to you, "We start in thirty."

"Yeah, I know, Princess." Natalie rolls her eyes, "I'm well aware what time practice starts, thank you."

"I was just trying to—" Jackie huffs and crosses her arms, "Whatever. Be there." Then she walks off, seemingly pouting, and Shauna gives Nat a shrug in apology before following.

Once the pair are out of earshot, Nat groans and pushes a hand through her bleached hair, "See, that's someone I call a princess in a derogatory manner."

You snort, "But it's not derogatory with me?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, "With you? It just… feels right. Dunno. Like that one chick we called "Crystal the Pistol" a few times. It's an affectionate nickname, or whatever." She waves a hand dismissively, "Not my point. Point is, when I say it to you, it's…" A beat of hesitation as she tries to find the right words, "Ugh. I don't know. I'm not good with words. Just know it's a good nickname, not a bad one."

"Right." Your eyes narrow slightly at that, but you don't push the topic further.

Which Nat seems grateful for, anyway. "Anyways. What the hell were we talking about?"

"Uhhhhh… hobbies, and how mine are, apparently, drastically boring?"

"Oh. Right." She nods, thinking about the previous conversation for a minute, then she gives a fond roll of her eyes and turns to you with a soft grin, "I mean… you said it. Not me. I just said you need some excitement. I'm not the one that goes stargazing for fun."

"Right. And most of your suggestions were…" You hum in mock thought, "Illegal, no?"

"'s only illegal if you get caught, actually." Nat shoots back, "And where's your sense of adventure, huh?" She nudges you with her elbow, "Gotta live a little, Princess. I know that BuzzBall was probably the first time you've ever… partaken in something illegal."

You roll your eyes and lean your back against the railing as you turn at the waist to face her, "Sorry, I don't willingly rob stores for fun in my free time. My bad."

You think you see Nat's jaw twitch at the comment, making you think you said the wrong thing, but before you can dwell on it too long or too hard, she lets out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, well, certified adrenaline junkie and all that. What can I say? Robbing stores gives me a rush." But the words come out slightly strained—like she's not telling you the whole story.

She clears her throat, clearly eager to move on from that particular line of conversation. "Whatever. Still. Like I said, I can… get Kev to teach you how to skate. Or… hell, you ever kicked a soccer ball around before?"

"In PE, yeah. But that's about it."

"Hmm." The blonde considers this, "You any good at it?" You snort, "Hardly varsity material, but I'm not, like, terrible at it or anything."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I can show you how to be junior varsity material. Shouldn't be that hard to play better than a few freshies, yeah? Maybe I'll even teach you some soccer tricks." She grins to herself, "Teach you the basics of freestyling soccer balls."

"Mm, promising a lot here, Nat. First, you're saying that you'll teach me to play good enough to beat some "freshies" in soccer, then telling me you'll teach me tricks?" You click your tongue, "How do I know you aren't gonna completely bail on me?" "Oh, make no mistake, I don't go back on my word. If I say I'm gonna do something, then you can bet your sweet ass I'm gonna do it, yeah?" A toothy grin, "And that's the Scatorccio guarantee."

You snort, "Yeah, you say that like your last name holds a lot of value when it comes to trust—" 

The words are meant to be teasing, they come out in a teasing tone, but you still feel like a piece of shit the second they leave your mouth.

"I… I didn't mean it like that. Sorry. I wasn't thinking—"

"Nah, no," Nat shakes her head and waves her hands, "no. Don't worry about it. I'm not mad at you or anything." A grin, likely to ease your nerves, "You're not exactly wrong either. But I'm giving you my word anyway. Which… you should take." 

"Hm." You take some mock consideration to that, "I will take it for now. But I make no promises for whether I keep it or not."

"Won't regret it." Her grin becomes slightly more genuine, "Promise."

You spend the next… ten, fifteen minutes? talking to Nat on the steps of the library, actually getting to know each other, rather than those single-minded adventures that the two of you have been on the past little while.

You trade off on the typical "first date" questions: Favourite food (Hers is apparently pizza, which you said was boring, then she rolled her eyes and dropped "Ribollita" and refused to actually tell you what that means.), fast food (Said "Taco Bell" immediately.) music (Matches her. Veruca Salt, Blondie, Nirvana, The Pixies… you get the idea. You asked her if she played the music on tape decks. She said yes. You don't know if she's joking or not.), books (She called you a nerd. Then proceeded to say, "The Anarchist Cookbook".), least favourite teacher (Mr. Miller, who teaches Auto Shop and keeps telling her repair work is sloppy.), and most importantly: the meaning of life ("ask me after I've had a tab or two"??).

After spending the past three minutes trying to convince her you don't get straight A's in every class, you decide just to show her your most recent in Physics and you… realise you left your binder in your locker.

"Crap." You sigh as you peer into your backpack, "I think I left my Science binder in my locker."

Nat snorts, "Didn't you open your bag earlier to put away your textbook? How didn't you notice it then?" "Because I wasn't thinking about it then." You sigh and close your bag, "I need to grab it from my locker. I don't—" "I'll come with you. Need to head to the locker room and change into practice gear." She cuts you off, pushes herself off the stairs, and, much to your surprise, actually waits for you before she starts walking. You try not to act surprised by this as you grab your backpack and throw it over your shoulders. When she does catch you acting surprised, because of course she does, she grins and rolls her eyes. "I said I was coming with you. Which means I am following you, and you aren't following me. Therefore, I have to wait for you. I still don't wait for people to follow me, Princess."

You can't fight the way your eyes roll and lips purse at that comment, "Right." Once you're standing, the pair of you head off in the direction of your locker.

"Dude, your locker is all the way in the old science hall? Who the fuck goes here anymore? There are zero classes near this place anymore. It must take five minutes to walk from class-to-fucking-class." She mutters, more to herself than you, and shakes her head as you two reach your destination. "Yeah, if I could have chosen my locker, it would be in the English hall. Right in the center of all my classes. I'm also pretty sure I'm the only person who has their locker in this hall." You sigh as you start to fiddle with the lock, "I've basically only seen the janitor up here. I don't know what I did to piss off whoever assigned lockers, but here I am." A sigh leaves your lips as the lock clicks open, "Admin won't even let me move lockers." Nat snorts and leans on the locker adjacent yours, "Yeah, sounds about right. They don't actually give a shit about the students here. I mean, for all the money going into athletics, you'd think they'd give us uniforms that don't chafe." An exasperated roll of her eyes, "So stupid."

"Sounds about right. Didn't the money go to the boy's baseball team or something?" She seems slightly surprised you know that but gives a nod of her head. "Uh, yeah. That's right. Which makes no sense considering we won states last year, and this year we actually have a good chance of—"

Her eyes zero in on the binder you're grabbing. "Holy shit. Is that colour-coded?" Her jaw drops in awe (or shock?), and she takes it from your hands, flipping it open. "H-o-l-y s-h-i-t. It is."

"I like having things organized by unit, whether it's a worksheet or notes!" You defend yourself, grabbing the binder back from her with a huff, "Sue me, okay!"

"Shit, I should." She lets out a low whistle, "Damn. All this for a…" She peers at the test you were going to show her, "B? Damn, Princess. That's unfortunate."

"You're making fun of me." You murmur petulantly, slamming the binder shut and shoving it into your backpack, "What's your GPA then, huh?"

Nat hums as she considers that answer, "Three point three."

"Wait." You turn to look at her, "Seriously?"

She laughs, "Yeah, seriously. I can't play soccer if I'm failing all my classes. Just because I don't show up to class doesn't mean I don't do the work for them." A roll of her eyes, like it was an obvious answer. 

"Mm. And do you do the work for them, or do you pay some unsuspecting nerd—"

"What makes you think I have the money to pay anyone to do anything?" The girl cuts you off with a snort and crosses her arms, "Trust me, I do all my work myself."

"Hey, who said anything about money?" You grin at her, "You have… dubious tendencies. For all I know, you're paying them some other way." You offer a teasing shrug, "Like stolen BuzzBalls or…" A faux gasp, "Oh my God. Am I the unsuspecting nerd?" Nat scoffs once and looks away, "Yeah, right." Another scoff. Then another.

…wait. Is she blushing? Did you just fluster Natalie Scatorccio? On accident? 

Between the way she won't meet your eyes, fiddles with the hem of her shirt, her usually pale cheeks now with the faintest hint of colour in them, and she swallows nervously? Wow. You think you did. How the tables…

You don't get too long to reflect on that before she's seemingly recovered and trying to act unaffected. "What if I am, nerd?" She leans into your personal space, "Maybe I'm looking for an unsuspecting nerd to do more than just my homework."

Now you're the flustered one. Again. "Uh—"

"I mean, think about it." She licks her lips, "The unsuspecting nerd and the resident burnout. Talk about opposites attracting. I could show you so much shit." A feral grin crosses her features, and your entire body heats up without your consent, "I could make you feel real—"

You take a step back, putting up both a metaphorical and physical space between you two. "Natalie. I don't—"

"Don't what? Oh, come on, Princess. Don't act like you haven't been thinking about it. I'm not dumb. I've seen the way you've been looking at me. Don't act like—"

You look visibly uncomfortable. Flustered, yes, but also uncomfortable. You're wringing your hands together in a subconscious act of anxiety, and whether that's because of her proximity or the situation, you aren't quite sure. Either way, Nat notices this.

You swear you see something like guilt flash behind her eyes once she realises she made you uncomfortable, but no outward attempt at an apology is made.

Natalie clears her throat and takes a small step back, the bravado dropping in an instant. "Whatever." She crosses her arms again, "Whatever. Let's just…" Her jaw tenses, and she shakes her head. "Nevermind." 

There's some very tense air that passes between the both of you as you awkwardly close and lock your locker, neither of you bothering to glance at the other, letting the awkwardness fester.

It probably would have kept festering, too, had the sound of Natalie's phone vibrating not broken the silence.

"Goddammit, I swear to God if Jackie is—" Her mouth snaps shut as she looks down at her phone, and a slow grin finds its way onto her mouth. "Ooooh, fuck yes." She looks up at you, "Say, Princess, you doing anything tonight?"

"Uhhhh…" You shake your head, "No? I was just planning on staying at home and…" You shrug, "I dunno. Relaxing, or whatever."

"Mm. I have a better idea. You should come to a party tonight."

"Oh." 

"Oh? That's it?" Nat rolls her eyes, "Come on. What was it I said about needing to get out of your comfort zone? A party is the perfect time and place to do it!" She shakes her head (and hands), "Look, it's a bonfire. If things go poorly, you can just… sit and stare at the fire and ignore everyone."

An unsure breath leaves your lips as you consider all the possibilities in your head. Of course, your mind heads to the worst-case scenario first, like a completely normal person would.

"Dude, seriously." She says, softer this time. "No pressure. It's just… a bonfire party… no, get-together, with some friends. That's it, yeah? Not like the entire town is gonna be there." She reiterates, throwing some emphasis on the fact it's "just a bonfire get-together," as if that will soothe all your nerves.

More hesitation on your part, but you can't deny the curiosity that seeds its way into your mind at the idea of seeing Nat in her element for once. "I… I don't know, Nat. It really isn't my scene—"

"It doesn't have to be your scene. It's just gonna be the place you spend a single Friday night. That's it. Don't ever gotta come to one again if you decide you hate it. Won't even bring it up again. Promise."

Even more hesitation. Even more curiosity you can't shove down and hide, for better or worse.

You don’t belong in the scene she frequents. Not really. But the way she grinned—like you were some project she couldn’t wait to take on—made you want to, even if it was just for one night.

"Come on. Drinks are free. Maybe they'll have more coolers you can try. Really dip your toes into the world of alcoholic beverages." She snickers.

Man, peer pressure does work, doesn't it?

You’re not a party person. But then again, Natalie Scatorccio isn’t just a person—she’s the reason you’re even considering it.

"I can't believe I'm gonna say this…" You shake your head and sigh, "But… fine. Fine. I'll… I'll go to this stupid party."

A wide grin crosses her face. Wide and very pleased with herself. "Perfect. Good choice. Best choice, really. Won't regret it, promise." She pushes herself off the locker beside yours, "I gotta get to practice. But I will… see you tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah. Yes." You sigh reluctantly, "I will… see you tonight, Nat."

"Hell yeah, you will. Maybe I'll even convince you to crack a beer or two. Smoke a cigarette. Real delinquent shit." She laughs at that as she begins walking off toward the gym, "See you tonight, Princess!" Nat calls from over her shoulder, "I'll text you the address!"

You watch her leave, blinking a few times in shock that she was able to convince you to go to a high school party so quickly.

"Well." You mumble to yourself, "Guess senior year isn't the worst time to go to your first party." You rub your forehead, mildly frustrated with yourself and your ability to say no, "Goddammit."

Well. Guess you have a party to prepare for, huh?

a/n: can i be so real with yall for a sec

every time i type in "natalie scatorccio" on pinterest i start feeling weird after the first few minutes cus I'm like "damn I'm fr just staring at photos of sophie thatcher rn" but I suppose it could be worse. could be staring at photos of (insert ugly celebrity name here)

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x gn!reader. a very indulgent soft!blitzø fic for @clovrplayz. when he finds you locked away in your apartment overwhelmed by all your work, blitzø takes it upon himself to try and help you relax for a little while.

featuring: general fluff, reader is gender neutral (only descriptor of body involves them having hair), people-pleasing stress.

You barely manage to look up for more than a cursor second when you hear the door to the apartment open, your elbows planted on the kitchen counter in front of you so you can press the heels of your hands into your temples. You’ve been staring at the paperwork in front of you for so long that your eyes have unfocused, and you blink hard to try and get them working properly again.

“Well, howdy-doody, peachy-babe,” Blitzø sing-songs as he kicks the door closed behind him, shrugging off his coat and tossing it towards the coatrack beside him. He misses; you hear it crumple on the carpet instead. The imp seems not to notice as he makes his way over to you. “You are gonna looooove me; I’ve got—”

Blitzø trails off as he realises you’re not actually listening, and his tone drops to something more subdued. “Hey. You okay?”

You jerk upright as you suddenly feel the touch of his hand on the small of your back; the move knocks the papers further askew on the countertop.

“Hey!” you give him a brief, distracted smile, pushing hair away from your face self-consciously. You usually put a little more effort into your appearance when you know he’s coming over; at the very least you make sure you’ve showered in the last… twenty-four hours. You’re suddenly aware of how tight your face feels around your eyes from a lack of sleep, of the beginnings of grease clinging to the roots of your hair telling you that you really needed to wash it. “Hey! Sorry, did we… were we supposed to have… plans?”

Blitzø raises a brow. “Nooope. I’m just doin’ that thing you totally love where I barge in unannounced and make you do whatever I want to – what’s wrong with you?”

“That sounds like the set up of a joke I’m too tired to make,” you sigh, then wave a hand dismissively as you turn your attention back to the counter. “No, I’m fine. I’m just… I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“It’s Hell,” you point out dryly. “They tend to make most of us work weekends.”

He shrugs, moving to lean against the counter beside you, forcing himself into your line of sight. He stands with his back to it, elbows resting carelessly on top of your work. Blitzø studies your face for a moment before he tries for a smirk. “Wouldn’t have to if you came and worked for I.M.P.”

You give him a tired smile. “You just get your rocks off to the idea of me calling you ‘sir’.”

He grins. “It makes me all tingly.”

You shake your head in amusement. “I appreciate the offer – again – but I told you, B. I can’t leave where I am. They need me.”

“They’re assholes,” he replies. He says it simply, like he’s telling you the day of the week, despite never having met anyone you work with. You tried not to complain in front of him, didn’t you? And anyway, they weren’t assholes, they were just…

“They’re not so bad,” you grimace, trying the tug the papers out from under his elbow carefully.

“They’re manky-ass crotch-jockeys, peach.”

You choke on a laugh despite yourself. “Okay, so they’re not… great, but they’re maybe not… that. And they need me there; I can’t just leave them with all this work still needing to be done.”

A soft, affectionate smile you completely miss tugs at the corner of Blitzø’s mouth, and he rolls his eyes before finally relenting and lifting his elbow so you can rescue those pages. “Aaannnd… are you gettin’ much work done?”

You hesitate to respond, and apparently, that’s all the answer the imp needs. Winding his tail around the leg of your stool, he drags it back from the counter, stepping between you and your work. You make to protest, but his expression is this mix of soft amusement and what you’re surprised to see as genuine concern, and your complaint dies before it can escape you. Blitzø’s hands come up to rest on your thighs, and while the touch still manages to send a blush into your cheeks, his touch doesn’t wander any higher than just above your knee, his palms warming you through the worn fabric of your sweats.

“You need a break.”

You sigh, “I can’t—”

“You’re takin’ a break if I have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you,” Blitzø says, his voice matter-of-fact and bright. You feel his tail brush against your ankle. “So, if you want me to get all grabby on that sweet lil bod of yours, keep arguin’. Otherwise, follow me.”

Blitzø surprises you by leading you into your bathroom – a cramped little room of cold tiles and a bath and shower combination that is a little too small for you to really use the former part of it. Before you can ask what exactly he has planned, he turns and plants his hands on your shoulders, pushing you gently down to sit on the mat with your back against the edge of the tub.

You want to ask what the hell he’s doing, but he starts humming to himself as he ransacks the cabinet under the sink, hips and tail swaying cattishly back and forth in time with whatever tune he’s got in his brain. He looks so strangely at home, and it isn’t until he straightens with the cheap detachable shower head hose you had buried at the back of the cupboard that you find words again.

“What exactly do you have that for?”

“Pretty sure it’s not what you usually use it for,” he shoots back, waggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. You snort a laugh, the sound catching as he surprises you by tossing a towel on your head. “Wrap that around your shoulders, perv.”

Confused, you do as he asks, watching him hook the shower head’s nozzle to the bath’s tap. He runs the water, rocking the spray over his fingers a few times until he’s satisfied with the temperature. As the same time his tail collects your shampoo and conditioner from the caddy above him, and your face warms as you realise his intentions.

“Blitz, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up and be pampered, bitch,” he eye-rolls, but his smirk is soft as he moves to kneel beside you. He reaches up to untuck your hair from where it’s hooked under the towel, and you’re not sure if it’s the cooling droplets of water or the graze of his claws against the nape of your neck that makes you shiver. “’Cause if I gotta look at your greasy-ass head much longer you’re gonna put me off pizza for life.”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “What’s this warm and fuzzy feeling in my—”

“Just tilt your head back, would ya?”

You laugh at his exasperation but do as he asks, closing your eyes as the towel around your neck cradles you comfortably against the edge of the ceramic. You’re immediately rewarded with a smile and the sensation of warm water against your scalp. Blitzø’s smile lingers as his hand comes up to carefully smooth your hair away from your face, claws ghosting over your forehead in a way that completely belays his joke about grease. Almost immediately you feel the tension in your shoulders ease, and Blitzø chuckles quietly to himself as he notices.

“That’s it, peach. Jus’ relax, alright?” he says soothingly as he soaks your hair, moving the showerhead slowly over your scalp. “I got you.”

Your tail slips over your lap and you curl your fingers around it, the spade swaying back and forth by your hip. “’Kay.”

You notice Blitzø is humming again when you feel the cold squirt of shampoo against the crown of your head, and you hold back a happy moan as his claws slide through your soaking hair to massage it into the locks. He seems to know just how much pressure to use, kneading his fingertips carefully into the skin behind your ears, into your temples. Your lips part with a soft sigh as he lingers there, working away the tension headache that has been brewing there for the last few hours.

“That’s my good baby,” he croons softly, the warmth of voice curling into your chest the way the steam caresses the bare skin of your arms and neck. He lifts your head slightly to press his fingers into the nape of your neck and your own hands tighten on your tail, the soft scent of night jasmine and bergamot teasing at your senses. You still can’t recognize the song he’s chosen as he continues humming, but it’s soft and sweet and slow… something like a lullaby that makes you want to melt right there into the bathmat.

Blitzø takes his time rubbing the shampoo through your hair, lingering around the bases of your horns where he knows stress can settle. When the water returns to wash away the bubbles you shudder, and the steam clings to your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. You want to open your eyes, to see what kind of expression he might be wearing as he does this, but you don’t want to risk ruining the moment.

He conditions your hair with the same care, his fingers returning to your temples and your horns as he gives it time to settle. In any other circumstance you would probably make a joke about how someone who’s been bald for as long as you’d known him knew so much about how to properly wash hair, but right now… Satan, you really didn’t care.

All too soon the water shuts off and Blitzø takes your hand to help you sit up properly again, one hand tucking up under your back to support you. It isn’t really necessary, but you smile at the attentiveness. You find yourself flushing now that the moment is over, and busy yourself with obscuring your face with the towel as you dry your hair so he doesn’t notice.

“Alright, baby, up you get,” he hauls you to your feel, hands wrapped around yours. That warmth lingers in your cheeks, and you try not to let your mind linger on the pet-name he’s just used. “Time for bed.”

“Wh-?” your brow creases in confusion. “It’s like… three in the afternoon! And I’ve still got work to—”

“Right.” You yelp in surprise as Blitzø sighs, nods once, then scoops you up into his arms. He grins at you as your arms go automatically to his shoulders, wrapping around his neck for stability. His hands clutch at your thighs, the small of your back, and you swear you feel his tail curl around yours for a moment before retreating again. “I warned you.”

“Blitz—!”

He ignores your protests as  he carries you into the bedroom, his tail hooking under the edge of the comforter and drawing it back before he drops you onto the middle of the mattress. He clambers onto the bed after you, tugging you back against his chest before you can climb back up off the bed. He tucks his chin over your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the side of your neck, unbothered by your still-damp hair. “Just shut up and nap with me, alright?”

Blitzø is wonderfully warm against your back, and the soft lilt to his voice is enough to convince you to do as he asks. His breath tickles against the side of your neck, his breathing slowing and becoming more measured as the two of you settle. His tail tugs the covers up over you, and you let your legs tangle with his as you settle against him.

Your breath catches slightly as his fingers curl in the hem of your shirt, his touch barely more than a whisper against the soft flesh of your stomach. Maybe that’s why your voice comes unsteadily when you speak, volume barely more than a murmur. “I do need to get back to work, Blitz…”

He shakes his head against your back, bumps his forehead against the space between your shoulders. “Nooooope… sleep now. Work later. Those assholes will just have to wait.”

“Blitz…”

He sighs, rolling his eyes as he sits up. He grabs at your shoulder, pushing you onto your back. He straddles your hips, bracing his hands on either side of your shoulders. It makes your breath catch, and you press your lips together against the flood of butterflies that suddenly swirl up through your middle.

“You gotta take a break, baby.” he tells you gently. He reaches up to tuck hair behind your ear, claws grazing along the line of your neck. “Okay?”

You exhale, give him a reluctant nod. “Okay.”

He smiles, bending down and brushing a kiss over your forehead. He lets his lips linger there for a moment before he pulls away again, and then he lets himself flop down on top of you.

You cough out a laugh as he knocks the air out of you, and he smiles lazily, his chin cradled against your sternum. You roll your eyes and he sticks his forked tongue out at you, but you still reach up to smooth your fingers over his forehead, scratching at the base of one of the spikes between his horns. A purr rumbles through him at the touch.

“Thank you, Blitz.”

His smile twitches wider, his eyes closed blissfully. “Welcome, baby.”

[aureyaa]

Underneath the Surface

pairing: Jeno x GN!Reader

description: You go to your room whenever Jaemin, your older brother, invites his friends over because it's just too chaotic. But then, things take a different turn when Jeno, your brother's best friend, comes into your room to check on you. He has always been this easygoing, funny guy who gets along with everyone, but today, his attention feels different. As Jeno comforts and befriends you, you start to notice that maybe your relationship means a bit more than being just friends with your brother.

warnings: Fluff, mentions of feeling overwhelmed, slightly emotional tone

wc: 1.7k

The afternoon had settled into a cozy kind of chaos. Jaemin, your ever-energetic older brother, had invited his friends over for a casual hangout, and of course, the house was now filled with laughter, music, and the sounds of people catching up. You could hear your brother's voice downstairs, probably joking around with his friends and causing his usual ruckus. But you were just not in the mood for noise today. It had been one of those weeks, and you sat in your room scrolling down on your phone quietly, trying to tune out everything happening around you.

Despite the warmth within the house, you couldn't help but desperately wish for space. It wasn't because you didn't love your brother or his friends; sometimes, it all just became a bit too loud. Jaemin had always been outgoing, dragging his friends deep into whatever whim he had gotten himself into, and you often found yourself getting swept up in it all or quietly watching from the sidelines.

You exhaled slowly as your eyes scanned down to the time on your phone; it was already late afternoon, and you'd spent some time here. You could still try to push all of that aside, but steps made their way towards the door. A highly familiar voice spoke up.

"Hey, still in hiding, are ya?"

Of course, even without lifting your head, you would've known-it was no other than Jeno, Jaemin's best friend. It was something that had never gotten used to: the way he always knew where to find you when you needed space. Jeno had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, not just Jaemin's friend but one who always tried to speak with you even when his attention often pulled elsewhere. There was something in the way Jeno carried himself, calm and easy, which always made one feel that they didn't have to be anybody but oneself.

You didn't have the time to react before Jeno knocked lightly and then opened the door, stepping into your room. There was his usual laid-back grin, but something in his eyes told of a more reflective look, as if to say he knew you were a little off today.

Hey," he said, wandering over to your desk. "Your brother sent me up to make sure you're not holed up in here being all mysterious."

You looked up at him and shrugged, your lips twitching upward despite yourself. "I'm fine," you said, keeping your tone light. "Just… needed a break from all the noise.

Jeno leaned against your desk, looking around your room for a second before meeting your eyes again. "Yeah, I get that," he said with a sympathetic smile. "I know it can get a bit too much down there." He tilted his head, studying you with a quiet gaze. "You've been up here for a while now, though. Everything okay?

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain it all. It wasn't that anything in particular was wrong, but there was this underlying feeling you couldn't shake. It had been building in your stomach for a while now, and you didn't really know what to do about it. You didn't want to unload on Jeno, but the way he was looking at you made it feel like he was genuinely interested in listening to what you had to say.

Yeah," you said, trying to sound more convinced than you actually were. "Just… stuff. You know, life."

Jeno's gaze gentled as he stepped closer, pulling a chair out of your desk and sitting down across from you. "I get it. Life has been weird sometimes." His tone was even, and somehow, that made things just a tiny bit easier. "But you're not going to have to deal with it alone, got it?

You looked up, surprised at the sincerity laced in his voice. This wasn't usually Jeno-being serious was never him, he's usually the one with the jokes, trying to make someone laugh. But there was something about him today that set him off. He wasn't pushing for an answer. He wasn't trying to make light of the things. He was just… there.

"I'm not just your brother's best friend," Jeno said, his voice soft but sincere. "I'm your friend, too, okay? If you need to talk about anything, then I'm here, and you don't have to face everything on your own."

There was something in the way he said this and something so sincere in his words that caused your chest to tighten. For a moment, you didn't quite know what to say. You had always seen Jeno as this cool, calm guy who blended into any situation with ease, someone who never seemed to have a care in the world. But now, the reality of him being so open, so vulnerable with you, made everything feel different. You felt a strange flutter in your stomach, but you pushed it away, not ready to examine it just yet.

You finally spoke, trying to shake off the wave of emotion that came unexpectedly. "Thanks, Jeno; I appreciate it," you said softly, smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."

He nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight in the room felt weirdly comforting, the silence between you two not awkward but rather an understanding of some sort. You opened your mouth to say something else when Jaemin's voice boomed from downstairs.

"Jeno! You up there or what? Come on, let's go already!

Jeno looked towards the door, an arch rising onto his face once more. "Guess that's my cue," he said with a chuckle, and then rose from his seat. He headed for the door but then turned back to you once more. "But seriously, if you need anything, I'm right here, okay? Don't hesitate."

You nodded, weirdly out in some indefinable way. "Won't. Thanks, Jeno."

With one last smile, Jeno slipped out of your room, leaving the door creaked open behind him. You sat there for a while, processing it all. You had always thought of him as a family friend, one who would always be around. Today, you realized how much more he meant to you, not only as Jaemin's best friend but also as someone you could approach.

You sat there a moment longer, letting the weight of the conversation settle. Maybe you didn't have all the answers yet. Maybe life wasn't as simple as it seemed. But one thing was for sure: Jeno wasn't going anywhere, and neither was your brother. You weren't alone in this.

[deramin2]

I think anyone complaining about Bell's Hells morality as we near the end of Critical Role Campaign 3 and whether they truly get to claim they're representatives of the Exandrian people should go watch How To Blow Up A Pipeline (2022) about direct action environmental rights activists. And the documentary Hit & Stay (2013) about the anti-Vietnam War Catholic Far Left activists while you're at it. Or The Trial of the Catonsville Nine (1972) which is based on a play written by one of the priests profiled in Hit & Stay about their trial (grandstanding in the trial was one of the intents of being arrested).

It turns out that when you're not in a binary morality unquestioned heroism YA novel that what is justified in fighting systems of oppression and what the right thing to do is actually becomes hard to determine and largely driven by internal feelings and rage at injustice.

Who determines who gets to have a big say? Who determines what actions are justified when no one will listen to the harm being done? Who determines what is overall the more harmful action? Especially when you can't know the future except that there is no option where tremendous harm is not done. Who determines which step along any road is "right" or even "wise?" Especially when they are taken one by one by specific people who are swept up by the events of their own lives and not predetermined by an all-seeing all-knowing Author writing backwards from the ending?

Playing a game isn't the same as acting in the real world at great personal cost, but real life is a kind of improv. Long form improv doesn't start with how the ending should get tied up. It's about how every single split second decision adds up to a cumulative finale. Things not turning out how you'd have played them out if you already knew everything and were living someone else's life is what reality is like.

The normal state of affairs is people making decisions you don't agree with. "They shouldn't have done that" is boring and useless analysis that shuts down further thought and dismisses what anyone else has to say. "Why did they do that" is what media literacy is about. Campaign 3 was never heroic fantasy (arguably C1 & C2 weren't either). It's a character study in people doing what they feel they must in the moment it's happening without any assurances at all that it's the right thing. It's about not having confidence and surety but having to act anyway. That's the entire point.

How To Blow Up A Pipeline (2022) is a great expression of that same dynamic. They have enough confidence to keep telling each other this is the most necessary action they can take because they don't know what the future looks like, but one where they did nothing isn't one they can stand to live through. Is blowing up this pipeline in the way they are planning to the best possible course of action morally and strategically? Literally nobody knows that. They can't possibly know that. It only matters that these people got to that point, and now it's all happening flaws and all. For love, for revenge, for discord in the face of a society that acts like this is normal. A bunch of righteous fuckups just trying to survive in a harsh world made harsher by the status quo.

If nearly 437 hours of game play was too much to sit through to get that point across, maybe 104 minutes will work better.

[ilikelookingatthings]

gravity falls bonus parallels

anyone else think about how Stan might have been drawn to dipper a bit cuz he reminded him of little ford....and while we get that ford saw alot of himself in dipper (what with both being slightly overthinking paranoid nerds who like ddnd and weird supernatural stuff and gaving a birth mark that sets them apart a bit(though fkrds was more noticeable with his hands)...and the ford projected his dynamic with stan between dipper and mabel so didn't see mabel as reliable enough to try to teach as often to.

But I keep thinking......what if ford actually was seeing STAN in dipper as well?

We know despite his denial he felt a void since he didn't fight his dad on kicking Stan out that he tried to distract himself with college and vengeance to prove he didnt need that other school and his friend fiddleford and anomalies which he couldn't quite fill and that bill had taken advantage off ford's need for a deep connection and close companion because deep down ford DID miss his best friend/bro Stan.

So....while I get Ford's desire for a companion who gets it and being drawn to the similarities dipper had with himself......but I wonder if he was also drawn to dipper cuz he was subconsciously trying to fill the Stan shaped hole by his side with another little boy who didn't have glasses because the mental image of stan he has doesn't have glasses.

A subtle reminder that who he really wants is stan even if ge's to stubborn to see it.

And while there is the obvious parallel with how ford was given a big opptunity that fit his interests that would separate him from Stan that Stan felt worried about abs accidentally messed up cuz he didn't want to lose fore a d how dipper was offered the apprentiship and mabel torn between not wanting dipper yo resent if he missed a opportunity he would enjoy but also very much not wanting to be left behind by dipper which resulted in her messing up with blenden blanden ect ect.

And how dipper chooses hjs dynamic with Mabel over staying in gravity falls and growing with Mabel and forgivness and understanding to contrast how ford hadn't fully accepted it was accident and how sorry stan was and had let that ruined oppottunity/project separate ford from stan and stay stuck on that one point.

But lowkey from another angle and a squint dipper has parallels with stan and mabel has similarities to Ford.

Because emotions can be weird....like....stan accidentally messed up the project abd was kicked out by the dad and ford didn't fight for stan to stay so at fjrst glance you can only see Stan being the one feeling abandoned.....from from firds persoectuve stan messed up hjs project despite knowing how important it was to ford...didn't try to tell him about it before hand...so ford seed it a a betrayal or stan abandoning him first cuz they can't really go against the dad.

Like....I wonder if ford had felt hurt or abandoned by stan first and like stan chose to leave him or made it so with his actions like Mabel felt at the authority figure ford bringing up leaving mabel to dipper.

And how it makes a parallel to how due to feeling alone despite being told they'd be fine without their twin.....they were taken advantage of by someone they thought they could trust in bill/blenden blanden bill.

Where both ford and mabel kind of tried to distract themselves with their interests....Ford with his interest in studies or anomalies for example.....Mabel with Mabel land....both trying to distract themselves from things going to shit outside their bubble like how ford had been in denial about bill til more affects on fiddleford were revealed....and trying to fil that void with a cooler 'better' replacement for their twin....like dipper fresh and how bill echoes askects if sfan while being smart and flattering and always able to get into ford's head.

Where both Mabel and Ford struggled for a while to listen to dipper and stan....how the bubble gets popped but Mabel and Ford both felt bad once they finally accepted how bad Bill's plans were and their hand in making that possible even if both were tricked.

But like stan....dipper didn't guve up on Mabel and chose her just as stan never gave up on ford....

Like dipper having that talk with Mabel in the court scene is chef kiss....but I weirdly felt a echo of how dipper got through to mabel in how ford reacted to stan doubling down in his actions with the final switcharoo in how it proves how much stan cares and how any niggling thoughts that stsn hurt him on purpose out if jealous or not caring enough to not be careless was fully put to rest(even if it wasn't just for ford...Stan did that to protect the twins and everyone but still).

Mabel in trying to lie to herself and her feelings that dipper fresh could be a real replacement even thoigh you KNOW that to her dipper couldn't really be replaced like hoe ford lied to himself he didn't need Stan abd living through distractions in his weird bubble.

And both ford and mabel have dated multiple fantasy creatures and a sort of semi evil friend/ex in fiddleford and Gideon who created sort of cults and semi reformed a little to give the other a piece that could help that spread the amount of people involved.

That their brothers of dipper and stan had to help them out with. Both dipper and stan were the ones who gave mabel and ford a little extra push(NO PORTAL PUN INTENDED FOR STAN BTW) get get away from the aweful ex.

I mean yet ford was obsessed with taking bill down pre falling in portal ect but dude was still protecting the journal from being burned by stan even if it would be safer to destroy than to hide it which showed he hadn't quite left the bubble of how he told himsekf he'd be fine without stan abd would be famous and scomplished and prove everyone wrong ect.

And dippers weres a hat with a icon and so does stan.....and ford and mabel both wear sweaters....I mean the obvious similarities are still Dipper and Ford with Mabel and Stan....but it's really interesting if you tried to read things the opposite way abd search for parallels the twins share with the other twin.

Just....wanted to mention some of the stan dipper parallels and ford mabel parallels.

Any extra thoughts you guts want to add just write in a reblog or a note.

Any other parallels you guys noticed?

[froggyfernycabbage]

Wildest Dreamings

Chapter 4: Skimming the Surface

Fiyero arrives late to history class and finds himself seated next to the green girl.

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

READ ON AO3

The afternoon session of Dr. Dillamond’s history class had just commenced, the students settled along the aisles of the lecture hall, reluctantly ready to harp on the past.

As per usual, Galinda was nestled between her lackeys, Pfannee and Shen Shen, in the back row, while Elphaba sat independently in the front, a permanent empty seat beside her.

The professor was waxing poetic about the assasification of the Archduke Winkifred when the sound of doors banging open brought the lecture to a standstill, everyone turning their heads to see who had caused the disruption.

Fiyero stood in the doorway, looking frazzled, though no less handsome. True to form, he’d gotten lost on campus after his spree in the library, his new blonde friend having distracted him from comprehending that map sufficiently. Her “guided tour” had been more like a flirtatious stroll, and she also hadn’t known any of the actual building names. 

Thus, Fiyero had found himself wandering aimlessly after they parted ways, a crumpled up class schedule his only lifeline. Not that he was desperate to go sit in a lecture hall, but he didn’t need that excitable Head Shiztress writing to his parents to expose his immediate truancy. 

He’d bolted into Briscoe Hall, hoping the class hadn’t started yet, but the silent head turns that greeted him indicated otherwise. Their stares triggered the memory of a traumatic tardiness from his past, but then he remembered himself. He didn’t have to shrink in shame just because he was late on his first day. He didn’t care about punctuality, because that’s how untroubled free-spirits like him went through life. 

Dr. Dillamond, however, was concerned with the new student’s tardiness. “This class begins promptly at the 2nd hour, young man. You’re late.”

A small bit of humility overrode his dedication to indifference.  “My apologies, professor, is this Ozian History I?” 

“Yes, now find yourself a seat so we can continue our lesson.” 

Fiyero quickly scanned the room and was disappointed to find that there were no vacancies in the back row. Galinda, panicking, shoved Pfannee to the floor to free up a space for him. Before she could wave him over, Fiyero’s eyes found a single empty seat down front next to a bespectacled green girl.

Smirking, he made his way to the aisle and motioned towards the bench, “Is this seat taken, miss?” Not waiting for an answer, he slid into place next to Elphaba. 

“I was starting to believe I imagined you,” Fiyero whispered teasingly, “like some wood sprite sent to torment me in the dead of night.” She was tormenting him in the light of day by ignoring him. It was especially cold of her after he’d greeted her with his warmest wave earlier. 

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to talk during a lecture?” she whispered back at him harshly. Her acknowledgement was delicious, despite its bitterness.

“My apologies, Miss Studious.” Elphaba sighed with contempt. 

The lecture resumed, but Fiyero could barely concentrate with the sage shrew so visibly tense beside him. As the other students took notes furiously, he realized he lacked the essential tool of a writing pen. His satchel was merely for show as he’d forgotten to pack any actual study materials. 

He dared not risk his life by asking his neighbor to borrow one, so he sat back and listened, a little invested in the harrowing tale of the rogue chicken student and his potato gun. Dr. Dillamond was a passionate orator, and Fiyero was admittedly impressed by his vigor.

When that day’s lesson concluded, Dillamond dismissed the rest of the class but waved a hoof at Fiyero and Elphaba to beckon them over to his desk.

“Miss Elphaba, I wanted to speak with you about your midterm project. As you recall, it was intended to be a partnered assignment, but we had an odd number of students at the time. So, you offered to work independently.” 

Elphaba did not like where this was going. “Yes, Dr. Dillamond, I remember.”

“Well, seeing as we have,” the goat glanced at Fiyero skeptically, “a new addition to our class, I’d like for you and Mister… uh…” 

“Tigelaar, sir.”

“Ah, yes. I’d like for you and Mister Tigelaar to work together on the project.” 

Elphaba suddenly wished his horse had trampled her. 

“But Dr. Dillamond, we agreed that I could work on my own— I’ve already started!” 

“Well, I’m sure you’d be able to help Mister Tigelaar catch up. I look forward to seeing what the two of you accomplish together.” The goat nodded and trotted off with the departing students.

Betrayed by her favorite professor, Elphaba crossed her arms and seethed, glancing up at her undesired partner. He met her glare with an obnoxious grin.

“We haven’t really met properly, have we?” he asked the green girl, extending his hand. “ Fiyero Tigelaar, recovering trampler.” 

Her arms still locked in anger, she ignored his attempt at a handshake. “Elphaba Thropp, impending casualty.”

Elphaba. How fitting for someone so peculiar and striking.

He had half a mind to invite her down to the Ozdust that evening as a gesture of goodwill, but his ego couldn’t take another rejection from her. 

Before he could work up the courage, Galinda pulled him away, eyeing Elphaba as if to scold her for being so unwelcoming. As they made their way out onto the courtyard together, Fiyero’s curiosity got the better of him. 

“So, what’s the deal with that Elphaba girl? Do you know her?” 

Galinda whipped her head towards him in minute horror. “Well, she’s actually my um… roommate.” She whispered that last word as if confessing a sin. 

“Your roommate? How did that come to be?” Fiyero was suddenly desperate to know the lore of their connection. 

Galinda sighed like a true martyr. 

“Well, you see, she wasn’t originally enrolled here at Shiz. Only her sister, that tragically beautiful girl I asked Boq to invite out, was supposed to stay. But Elphaba caused a big commotion on the quad, sent things flying all around—”

“Wait, flying ?” Maybe she really is a wood sprite, thought Fiyero.

“YES! She gave us all quite the scare, I was nearly flattened by a bench!” Galinda placed her hand on her heart in exasperation. “Anyway, Madame Morrible took credit, Oz bless her, to spare the poor girl from more embarrassment. However, she saw potential in her and now Elphaba is in her sorcery seminar, which I think is really unfair because she didn’t even have to write an entrance essay!” 

“Sounds like she made quite the impression. But how did that lead to the two of you becoming roomies?” 

“Oh, that part. Morrible asked for a volunteer to share their room, and being the gracious person I am, I offered her a place in my private suite.”

“How good of you,” Fiyero remarked.

“I know. You think she’d be more appreciative, but no, she’s quite the prickly presence.” 

Fiyero sensed there might be more to their cohabitation than Galinda was letting on, but he decided not to push it. 

“So, I'll be picking you up around eight?” he asked as they approached the dormitory entrance.

Galinda perked up at the mention of their scandalocious plans. She winked at him, tossing her hair for good measure. “Sounds perfect!”

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[paging-possum]

The more things change the more they stay the same

[wonder-worker]

A.J Pollard’s biography on Edward IV was so cringe lol (generic; minor but frustrating inaccuracies; intensely judgmental at times and oddly dismissive at others while never considering the broader context; entirely diminished and trivialized Elizabeth Woodville as both queen and wife of his main subject in the name of "defending" her; created a false dichotomy between Edward and Henry VII’s styles of ruling and lauded the latter at the former’s expense even though Henry literally followed Edward’s example for the very things Pollard was criticizing Edward for; had a downright nonsensical and thoroughly misleading conclusion about Edward’s legacy & Richard’s usurpation that was based entirely on hindsight, Pollard's own assumptions, and the complete downplaying Richard’s agency and actions to emphasize what Pollard wrongly and misleadingly claimed were Edward's so-called 'failings', etc, etc)

I wanted to buy his book on Henry V but after reading this shitshow and the synopsis of that book, im guessing it's going to be 10x worse, so...no thanks

[charmre]

It's too kind of you to say you can help but there's no one around who can save me from myself

[con-clavi-con-jae]

Recently passed a chemistry exam

Thank you Vessel for teaching me that she's not acid not alkaline

[carbonbasedmatter]

they should give you a minimum 20 years after coming back from school to rest and process everything that happened

[noridal]

This post was supposed to be a rant about ESC fans asking for countries to only sing in their native language, instead I'm turning it into a music recommendation post since I feel like these requests comes from a place of "I want to listen to music that's different from usual, and not the usual pop radio songs".

As someone whose music taste can be summed up as "if it's weird, I'm in" have some music that you definitely don't listen to on the radio:

Albums:

The Rabbit that hunts tigers -Yin Yin (This would the perfect soundtrack for a futuristic western movie where the main character is also a samurai imo)

Kontinuum- Klaus Schulze (cool background music, mysterious sci-fi but not in a soul crushing or scary way)

Flight of the Ancients- The Shaolin Afronauts (the best intro to an album I've ever heard and funky jazzy vibes. Cool trumpets)

Semillero- Dengue Dengue Dengue (idk how to describe this but mh. Would use it as a soundtrack for Heart of Darkness by Conrad)

The Gereg -The Hu (Mongolian Rock-Metal, worth checking them out)

The Gods We can Touch- AURORA (this is way less obscure than other suggestions but I swear to god AURORA sounds like an angel to me but the vibes are those of a biblically accurate one)

Songs:

Hocus Pocus- Focus (prog rock jodel?!? Spotify suggested this to me and I'm in love with this)

Acid Rain- Liquid Tension Experiment (found this by searching jazz metal. Instrumental. Very good)

Trumpet Sketches - Janko Nilovic (trumpet makes brain go brrrr)

Artists:

NanowaR of Steel (Italian comedy metal band. Sings both in English and Italian, if you ask me they go for the too-good-to-be-just-a-joke comedy)

Dr. Steel (Dark with dieselpunk vibes. Every song is unique yet the vibe is so familiar, definitely villainy. Comes with lore)

Paul Shapera (a compilation of rock operas that take place in the same universe, there's plot. Lots of it. I can't recommend a single one because the cool part is seeing the story evolve)

Tales under the Oak (dungeon synth music, very calming and frog themed)

Specific playlists I have too much fun making:

POV: you just died but luckily there's a party on the other side

This is about craving your lover's insides (both playlists are currently in progress and will be updated whenever I feel like it)

All links lead to spotify, except for kontinuum which I could find only on YouTube. Also please note that the playlists include less obscure songs so maybe that's a good place from where you can start? Idk. Italic means that it's only instrumental, I feel like Hocus Pocus should be in the group too but jodel counts as singing.

[non-un-topo]

Spending hours trying to figure out why I feel so irritable and sensitive today and I’m only realizing now it might have something to do w being invited to a birthday party full of an entire family I’ve never met and like seven very small children and the person inviting me assuming I would love that. I want to support her bc I like her and she’s family now, but I cannot---I will not---go to another family event and be pushed into the kitchen doing dishes with the women or cooing over someone’s baby who just stares at me and whines when I try to mask and say hello.