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rootbeerfromvermont · 24 days ago

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AHHHH THIS IS ACTUALLY SO CUTE!!! SKYLAR I LOVE U BABY 💖👓

Forgiveness. Can You Imagine That? (pt.6 Skylar)

Forgiveness. Can You Imagine That? guide

Skylar's app isn't working and you can't really dateviate your dateviators, so your forced to get help from the others.

Skylar worked herself sick and can't answer her app summoning, so you to her instead.

(CW: Sickness, obviously. Emetophobia warning)

(If anyone has a request on who they'd like to see next, feel free to ask, just pick someone off the list :3)

I'm also probably going to start writing a new fic. It'll be a Tony x male (or nonbinary, I haven't decided) reader 😌

“Skylar, Skylar, Skylar…” you repeat to an empty room, spinning around in circles, wobbling slightly.

You’re kind of hoping that saying her name enough will summon her like Beetlejuice, but so far, your efforts have been for naught. Her app hasn’t been working and you can’t exactly dateviate the dateviators.

You’re not sure if she’s purposefully doing it or if Phoenicia is in need of another update. You groan, pulling your phone out; she’s not warm, so that’s a good sign.. You think. You click on Phonecia’s app, backing up slightly when she pops up.

“Good morningggg, my love,” Phoenicia beams, wrapping you in a tight hug, “What hot goss can I fill you in on?”

“Morning, Phoenicia, I actually need help with something,” you tell her, hugging her back, “Are you ok, Sky’s app isn’t working and I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“Oh, yeah, honey! I’m peachy,” she assures you, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, “I don’t know why Sky’s app isn’t working. I can go check on her, give me two minutes and I’ll be right back with that pretty, little lady!”

You nod, shuffling your weight nervously, waiting for Phoenicia to return. You pop your lips, rocking between the balls of your feet and your heels. She returns with a grim look on her face, and you internally start freaking out… Maybe a little externally too.

“Oh, my god. Where is she? Is she okay? Did her suspension of disbelief break again?” you try to peak over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of a certain pink haired woman.

“Sweetheart, calm down. She’s resting. Her suspension of disbelief is fine, but--”

“But?” you ask a little too loudly, interrupting Phoenicia, which gains you a smack on the back of the head, “Sorry. Continue.”

“Mhm.. Anyway, as I was saying she’s sick--”

“Sick!?” you exclaim, staring at Phoenicia like she might’ve personally inflicted Skylar with the plague. You get smacked again, a little harder this time.

“Quit interrupting me!” she orders, glaring at you, “Again, as I was saying. She’s sick. I think she’s been overworking herself.”

Your mouth opens to interrupt her again, but she pins you with a stern look and you think otherwise, allowing her to continue.

“As you’re aware, she was the one who initially suggested avoiding you and I know we apologized, but she still feels guilty, so she’s been working overtime to make sure everything is working in pristine condition,” she explains, rubbing her thumbs in soothing circles on your arms, “You can speak now.”

You release the breath you were holding, your entire chest deflating, “Can I see her?” is all you ask, deciding to spare your lovely phone your barrage of questions.

“I think she’d like that,” Phoenicia nods, taking your hand and leading you to Skylar’s room/apartment thing.

You know that all of the dateables have their own place, but you’ve only ever actually been to Eddie and Volt’s place, since it’s right above the bar. Phoenicia releases your hand, gesturing towards the door, which you can hear coughing and sniffling coming from inside the room.

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Always happy to help,” she smiles, kissing the corner of your mouth before taking her leave.

You knock on Skylar’s door, slowly opening it, “Sky, honey bee, you in here?” you peek into the room, frowning slightly at the pile of blankets on the bed, the only sight of life being tufts of pink hair poking out.

“Noooo, go away, I’m sick,” she groans, her voice stuffy and nasally.

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you’d be able to get sick from her, but you push forward. Even if you can, it’d be worth it. You shut the door behind you, sitting down on the edge of her bed, taking the time to look around her room.

“Hey, Sky.. Heard you were feeling under the weather,” you murmur, setting a hand on the lump of blankets, hoping that she can feel it. “Your white knight is here to nurse you back to health.”

She finally pops her head out, looking all sorts of pathetic: red and runny nose, bag under her glassy eyes, the works. She pouts at you, seemingly trying to glare at you in disapproval, “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Can you even get me sick? I mean, how would that work?” you wonder, laying down in bed with her. You set a hand on her forehead, wincing at the warmth coming off of her, “Oh, honey bee, you’re burning up.”

“I know, I’ve been trying to sweat it out,” she mumbles, grabbing your hand, pressing it to her chest to cuddle with it.

“Do you need anything?” you ask quietly, brushing your free hand through her slightly damp hair, lightly scratching her scalp.

“No…I just want you,” she admits, reaching out for, pulling you into her chest like her own personal stuffed animal. She blearily nuzzles against your chest, squishing her cheek into your skin.

“That works,” you chuckle, curling up with her. You rest your head on top of her head, sighing softly.

“Night-night,” she slurs, eyes fluttering shut, quiet snores leaving her.

You fall asleep shortly after her, surprisingly lulled by her little snores. You don’t know how long you're asleep before you're jostled awake by Skylar rushing out of bed, the sound of heaving following shortly after.

You toss the covers off of you, following her into the bathroom, watching her lean over the toilet. You come up behind her, gathering her hair in your hands, holding it back for her. It’s over as quickly as it started, leaving Skylar resting her forehead against the rim of the bowl. It takes you a second to realize that she’s crying.

“Oh, Sky… Hey, it’s okay,” you whisper, sitting down on the floor next to you, rubbing circles onto her back. You get it, you cry every time you get sick too.

“No, it’s not okay,” she argues weakly, watching her tears hit the bathroom tile.

------------

“It is. It’ll be okay, it’s probably just a twenty-four hour stomach bug,” you tell her, still rubbing her back.

The genuine care in your tone makes her sick to her stomach- again. You’ve always been so good to her, to everybody, even after all they did to you. She reaches behind herself, weakly pushing your hand away. She doesn’t deserve your comfort.

“It’s not okay!” she exclaims, sobbing into her arm, “How can you still look at me after everything that’s happened?”

If she hadn’t been such an idiot with an idiot-er idea, then you never would’ve gotten hurt. Everybody would still be happy.

“Sky--”

“No, no, no! Don’t you ‘Sky’ me,” she scoffs, swatting your outreaching arm, “what I did was horrible. I’d hate me. I’m pretty sure some of the dateables hate me, I get it.”

She sniffles, growing more annoyed at herself and her stupid clogged nostrils and the way the lights are making her head spin and you. Stupidly perfect you, with your concerned puppy dog eyes and caring smile and sweet tone. If you were even slightly less lovely, life would be so much easier because she wouldn’t feel like major shit!

“I-I-I.. I’m horrible!” she mumbles, knocking her forehead back against the porcelain.

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“Skylar, you’re not horrible,” you tell her, setting a hand on her thigh, brushing your thumb over the fabric of her fuzzy pajama pants, “And nobody hates you: not me, not the dateables, and I really hope not yourself.”

When she doesn’t immediately reject the hand on her thigh, you slowly pull her into your lap, cradling her like a treasure. You brush your hands through her hair, resting your chin on her shoulder.

“It’s just the sickness talking, okay? You’re being dramatic,” you add, carefully rocking the two of you back and forth.

“It’s not,” she denies, shaking her head, accidentally bumping your heads together. You wince, but don’t move, not wanting to spook her.

“It is,” you insist, lightly kissing her shoulder before moving her out of your lap and standing up. You help her up, letting her lean against the counter. “You are going to brush your teeth and lay back down and I am going to go see if I can get Stefan to whip up some soup.”

Skylar wants to argue, she really does, but she doesn’t have the energy. It’s probably for the best anyway and soup does sound really good, “Okay.”

“Okay,” you parrot, kissing her hot forehead before leaving her alone in the bathroom.

You return a little over twenty minutes later, finding Skylar asleep in bed again. You peel some of the blankets back, pressing a hand to her forehead; she feels less warm than she did earlier, so that’s good.

“Mmm, your back,” she mumbles sleepily, cracking one of her eyes open. She perks up when she sees the bowls of soup, “Chicken noodle, no celery?”

“Ahh, no. It’s actually split pea and celery soup, Stefan said he wanted to try something new,” you tell her apologetically, a solemn look on your face. It cracks when she stares at you like you’ve grown three heads, “Kidding, it’s chicken noodle.”

“You’re so mean,” she huffs, sitting up in bed, “I could be dying and you’re teasing me.”

“Does it help if I said that I brought rolls?” you ask, sitting down on the bed in front of her, setting a tray down between the two of you, placing the food down.

“A little,” she nods, taking the spoon you hold out for her, “Thank you.”

“Mhm, happy to help,” you tell her, ripping one of your rolls in half, dipping it into your bowl of soup, “You feel any better? You didn’t feel as warm as you were.”

“Yeah, I think puking actually helped,” Skylar whispers, more focused on slurping up the soup like a heathen, “Mm-mm-mm, this is really good.”

“Yeah, Stefan always delivers. I’ll have to get him to give me his recipe one day,” you agree, following Skylar’s example and ditching the spoon.

“Ha! I don’t think he loves you enough for that,” she giggles, tearing a chunk of her roll off and tossing it at you, bouncing it off your forehead.

You scoff indignantly, tossing it back at her with a snort, “Yeahhh, I know. He may love me, but he’ll take those recipes to the grave,” you sigh wistfully, setting your bowl down. “As long as he keeps making them for me, that’s fine.”

“Exactlyyyy, I rue the day he stops cooking for us,” she nods slowly, eyes shut in bliss as she finishes up the last dredges of her soup, setting the empty bowl on her bedside table.

“Let’s hope nobody pisses him off enough that he cuts us off.” You finish shortly after her, moving the tray to the floor.

You scoot forward a little, taking her hands in yours, brushing your thumbs over her knuckles, “Do you want to talk about earlier?”

Skylar tilts her head away from you, refusing to meet your gaze, “Not really.” She chews on her bottom lip, sighing, “But we should.”

“Yeah, we should, do you want to start or should I?” you ask, grabbing a blanket to drape over your laps.

------------

“I’ll start,” she tells you, fiddling with a fraying string on the blanket, pulling at it until it snaps. “You obviously know how I feel about…everything and the role I played in it..”

She sighs, finally looking at you again. She reaches over, setting a hand on your cheek, caressing your skin. You’re so sweet it makes her teeth ache, “I made a stupid decision out of selfishness and that hurt you and I’m so, so sorry.”

Her voice cracks, tears welling up in her eyes, but she pushes forward, “I know that I’ve apologized, probably a million times by now, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough- it’s not enough. You said it yourself, apologies aren’t just a fast track to making everything right.”

Her breathing shudders, wiping her tears off with her sleeve, “That’s why I’ve been working so hard, y’know? To make sure everything is perfect for you, making sure everyone is running at their peak.”

“Sky, honey bee, that’s not your responsibility,” you murmur, leaning into her palm, mirroring the gesture and putting a hand on her cheek, swiping away a stray tear she missed.

“I know, but I feel like it is. I’m trying to prove to you that I still deserve your love,” she presses her face into your palm, nuzzling against it, “I’ve been trying to prove to myself that I still deserve your love.”

There, she said it and she didn’t spontaneously combust. That’s a good sign. She finally takes a breath, focusing on the feeling of your hand on her face.

------------

You just want to squeeze Skylar so tight right now, wrap her up in a hug and only let her go once she realizes that she’s always worthy of your love. You scoot over to her, pulling her into the tightest hug you can manage.

“Honey bee, of course you’re deserving of my love,” you promise, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “I love you, okay?”

“But--... nevermind, okay,” she nods, burying her face into your shoulder.

The two of you lay back down, limbs entangled with each other. Your hand runs through Skylar’s hair, scratching her scalp.

“I still can’t believe that you’re not mad at me,” she mumbles into your skin.

“Uh oh,” you gasp, pulling her away from you, looking at her with a grime expression.

“What?” she looks worried now, pink brows pinching together.

“I think your suspension of disbelief is broken again,” you tell her, pursing your lips and shaking your head like a doctor who just delivered a horrible prognosis.

Her worried expression drops, now looking annoyed at you, “Seriously? I thought there was something wrong!”

“There is! It’s broken!” you exclaim, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her lightly.

“It’s not!” she retorts, smacking your shoulder.

“Then take your disbelief and suspend it!” you quip, pursing your lips to try and keep your serious facade up, “Because I’m not mad at you.” You finally break, a smile replacing the thin line your lips were in, booping her nose, “I promise.”

“You’re an idiot,” she scoffs, booping your nose back.

“You’re a bigger idiot, considering you think that I should be mad at you,” you point out, flicking her nose.

“Hey!” she rubs the tip of her nose, pouting at you.

“Is your disbelief suspended?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, holding your hands up in a clawed position, ready to tickle if necessary.

Skylar’s eyes widen when she realizes what that threatening motion is, “It’s suspended!” she promises.

You sic the claws on her anyway, tickling her sides while she squirms and squeals, “I didn’t hear you! What’s been suspended?”

“My disbelief!” she squeaks, trying to wiggle her way away from the torture.

“Your disbelief of what?” you question, hooking a leg over her hip to keep her in place.

“That you're not mad at me and still love me,” she answers quickly, face turning red, “I deserve your love and you're not mad at me.”

The tickling stops once she finally admits it, a pleased smile on your face. You squeeze her tightly, kissing her forehead, “That’s right. You deserve love and I’m not mad at you.”

She pants, pushing you away, “You’re mean,” she huffs, sticking her tongue out at you like a child.

“I know, I’m so evil,” you giggle, pulling her back into a hug.

“The evil-ist.”

She cuddles into your chest, finally catching her breath, letting her eyes fall shut. You can’t tell if she’s tired from the sickness or if you wore her out. Either way, it’s probably a good idea for her to get some rest.

“I love you,” you whisper, pulling the blankets over the two of you.

She doesn’t hesitate this time or argue that you shouldn’t, “I love you too.”

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rootbeerfromvermont · 24 days ago

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“Leaf Me Out of This!" - Professor Mirabel Garlick’s part 🌿⭐︎

Summary: How different Hogwarts Legacy Professors would react to hearing their students argue but its really stupid..

Note: I actually had a lot of fun with this one, definitely doing more shenanigans

The task for today's Herbology class was for students to plant and nurture their own Chinese Chomping Cabbage, a peculiar yet fascinating plant known for its vibrant green leaves and unique fighting mechanism, which can be quite helpful for defense.

The bright sun filtered through the swaying branches above as students worked diligently in their garden plots. A chorus of birds chirped cheerfully in the background, creating a soothing soundtrack to the day's activities.

Everything was peaceful….until-

Student 1: “I’D RATHER KISS A MANDRAKE THAN YOUR UGLY MUG!!”

.Silence. Absolute silence.

Students, mid-conversation and engrossed in their tasks, paused. The birds stopped chirping; even the mandrakes went quiet despite being personally offended to hear what was happening!

Professor Garlick, who had been strolling through the greenhouse guiding students, suddenly halted in her tracks, dropping her watering can—her hand flew to her mouth in astonished disbelief. Like some Victorian woman who had just received the heart-wrenching news of her husband's demise,

Garlick: Soft gasp "Language!"

But then she hears the comeback.

Student 2: "That Mandrake would have better conversation than you!"

Professor Garlick let out a funny sounding giggle, she cleared her throat attempting to maintain her authoritative teacher voice, which came out more as a wobbly statement.

Garlick: "That is NOT a nice thing to say, young man!"

Student 1: “I planted it! That’s like adoption! You can’t just rip my child out of the soil!”

Student 2: “You can’t own a plant, you narcissistic troll!!

The other student's face grew redder than a ripe tomato, clenching his jaw in anger, trying to avoid the humiliating stares of his peers. He was about to hurl another insult when Mirabel stepped in between the two.

Garlick: “Alright now… what’s going on here?”

Student 1: "Professor, he-he kidnapped my puffapod!"

Student 2: "It's not kidnapping if it's a PLANT, Elias! This isn't the Department of Magical Orphanages!"

Garlick: “I…see…?”

Student 1: "You don't understand, Professor! I nurtured it! I sang to it at night!"

Student 2: "Oh yes, he sang to it-probably why it tried to roll away and DIE."

Garlick: "Oh my stars... *sigh* Elias, darling, it's a puffapod, not a Kneazle. It doesn't require lullabies."

Elias (dramatic): "Then why did it bloom for me and not for HIM, Professor?!"

The 2nd student (lets just name him Thomas) - Thomas whipped his head around seething, it wouldn't be a surprise if he tried to rip the other boys hair out.

Student 2 (Thomas??): “Because even plants pity you! Your puffapod was CRYING for help, the poor thing was practically being strangled by your overwatering habits!"

Elias: "...It's a puffapod. It does not cry!..."

Thomas: “Then what do you call those tiny little moisture droplets on the leaves?! TEARS OF DESPAIR, THAT'S WHAT!"

Garlick on her last straw: "Alright, alright-Merlin's beard, this is... quite the passionate debate. But unless either of you wishes to spend the evening in the infirmary-covered in stink sap-put the puffapod down."

Mirabel definitely tells Sharp or Hecat what happened in the staff room later on that evening..

Garlick: "And then he said -oh dear, I really shouldn't repeat it..."

Garlick honestly found the whole situation utterly hilarious but she can't laugh!! She's supposed to be a role model for her students and a professor for God's sake!

#x reader #you can imagine the students as you so it can work!#just tagging so it reaches the right audience #mirabel garlick #mirabel garlick x reader #professor garlick #professor garlick x reader #platonic #inncorrect quotes #shitpost #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy #harry potter hogwarts legacy #harry potter #harry potter x reader

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rootbeerfromvermont · 26 days ago

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Tamara Riley x Reader

Tamara Pre/Post headcanons

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rootbeerfromvermont · 26 days ago

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Tamara Riley x Reader headcanons

I started this and then never finished it but here it is, Reader fills in for Mr. Natolly (I feel bad for the poor guy and his wife) Reader is unaware of the hotel incident, gender isn't metioned but I usually write for fem! Reader so idk if this is good, HOW COME NO ONE WROTE ABOUT TAMARA YET AHHH??!!!!

Obsessive behavior, bullying, abuse, alcoholism, witchcraft (i know nothing about it), stalking? Possessiveness, angst, guys i havent watched Tamara in awhile i might get some stuff wrong

Pre-Resurrection

Her daily life filled with you. Dreams of you. Thoughts of you. Just you.

wether it be you giving her a quick smile as you pass by her in the hall, whispering sweet nothings into her ear or maybe even a daydream of the two of you in a empty classroom kissing. "I love you Tamara."

But those dreams, those wonderful dreams that seemed almost too good to be true would inevitably be interrupted by the harsh reality of judgment.

In a flash, you push her away, as if she were contagious, your voice polluted as if you tasted something unpleasant. "I could never love someone as disgusting as you..." The words sliced through Tamara like a knife, a wave of laughter flowing from her classmates, each mocking chuckle echoing in her ears. What about the tender moments you shared? The nights spent wrapped in each other's arms, you had declared your love for her...you told her you love her, please tell them you love her, make them stop, make them-

“Tamara!” Mr. Natolly’s sharp voice cut through the classroom, jolting her awake from where she’d drifted off on her desk.

Every insult she gets from her classmates or father becomes easier to endure because she’s thinking: “They don’t matter. You looked at me like I mattered.”

If she’s cornered by Patrick and his buddies, she’s not running to a teacher—she’s looking for you. Maybe literally searching the halls or texting you with trembling fingers, Texts That Are S.O.S. Disguised as Casual:

“Hey… um… are you around? Just wanted to talk.” (Really means: please save me before I break.)

A few incidents occurred when Patrick and his buddy Shawn used this as their advantage..

( Tamara is leaning against her locker, trying to shrink into herself. She’s typing a message to you.

“Hey… are you busy? Can I talk to you for a sec?”

She’s about to hit send when Patrick swoops in like a vulture and plucks the phone right out of her hands.

Patrick: “Ohhh, what do we have here? Who’s the lucky person? Or is it Natolly again?”

He smirks, already making it loud enough so people turn to look.

“Give it back, I’m serious!”

Patrick scrolls through her messages and sees YOUR name at the top. His grin wide because now he has ammo.

Patrick: “Y/N, huh? Aww, that’s cute. You think you’ve got a shot? Hey, Shawn, should we send a little love note for her?”

They start typing nonsense—“Hey cutie ;) want some pics?”—while Tamara is begging them to stop, nearly in tears. )

She can't even get a break at home.

It’s late. Her dad’s drunk again, slamming beer bottles on the counter, his voice booming through the tiny house. He’s raging about the same things he always does—Tamara’s “creepy voodoo shit,” how she’s embarrassing him, and maybe even throwing in cruel jabs about her mother.

Dad: “You think this magic shits gonna make you feel better? all the habits you picked up from that no-good mother of yours and you didn't even learn to cook.."

Her father’s voice slurs through the walls, harsh and jagged. If you were here, he wouldn’t talk to her like that. If you were here, she’d be safe.

you have the poor girl completely love sick

Engaging with her, even playfully flirting, can lead to deep consequences. A seemingly innocent gesture of kindness might be misconstrued as a sign of romantic interest, If you offered her kindness, she’d latch onto that as “proof” you were meant to be together..

Sometimes she’ll send you a selfie, like:

“Just trying out a new look… what do you think?”

(Not because she’s vain—she just desperately wants to know if you think she’s pretty.)

Tamara's deep-seated loneliness and her intense longing for connection, willing to latch onto any scraps you throw at her, even if it means destroying herself in the process.

To Tamara, witchcraft is control. The one thing in her life where she isn’t powerless. So, the idea of casting a love spell on you? It feels justified.

It’s not wrong. I just… need them to stay. They’ll thank me later.

She’d do it late at night, candles lit in her bedroom while her dad is passed out drunk downstairs. Your name is written over and over on paper scraps, maybe a photo of you tucked under a red candle.

“I'll make you love me."

After-Resurrection

OOOOO BE PREPARED FOR A BUMPYYY RIDE, THIS GIRL IS LOCO

After she recieves a call from you to come to the hotel alone, she is THRILLED.

This is her DREAM. The one thing that can make her believe the world isn’t horrible. She spends hours getting ready, doing her hair, wearing her best oufit—heart pounding with hope.

She walks in expecting you. Instead, Patrick and the others are waiting with their phones out, laughing, next thing she knows is shes falling backwards and her head hits something solid with a *crunch*..

She comes back with that supernatural glamour like in the movie—confident, sexy, and unhinged—but her fixation on you is now monstrous.

When she finally comes to you? She’s calm. Smiling. Acting like nothing happened:

Tamara: “You didn’t know about it, right? Tell me you didn’t know. …I’d hate to think you were one of them.”

If you show any sort of fear towards her, she'll step closer even as you back away, her tone soft and trembling at first.

“No… no, don’t look at me like that. I’m still me. I’m still Tamara… YOUR Tamara.”

When that doesn’t calm you, the sweetness starts cracking into something sharp:

“You don’t get to be scared of me. Not you. Everyone else, fine—but not you.”

“I DIED FOR YOU! I CAME BACK FOR YOU! YOU’RE MINE!”

And the scariest part? She genuinely thinks it’s love, not obsession. To her, every horrific thing she does is for you.

Clingy can't even describe her. Its unhealthy.

She starts appearing everywhere: outside your classroom, at your locker, waiting outside the bathroom.

She blows up your phone constantly if you don’t respond. At first it’s sweet, then it turns dark.

Hey :)

Where are you?

Did I do something wrong?

ANSWER ME.

If you ignore her too long, she might show up at your house with that eerie calmness

“You weren’t answering… I got worried. You wouldn’t ignore me on purpose, right?”

She’ll take normal interactions and twist them into proof you loved her.

“You said I was pretty. You remember that, right? You don’t just say that to anyone. You wanted me… even back then.”

If you deny it?

“Don’t lie to me. I know what I felt when you looked at me. Don’t make me the crazy one.”

She mixes truth with lies—because you DID show her kindness once, maybe even called her pretty. That gives her ammo to twist reality until you question everything: “Maybe I did lead her on… maybe I did care more than I realized…”

“You’re not like the others. You saw me. You wanted me too, didn’t you? Even back then?”

#slasher x reader #slashers x reader #tamara 2005 #tamara #tamara riley #tamara riley x reader #x reader #slashers #horror #horror x reader

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rootbeerfromvermont · 1 month ago

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📚 “Stand Up, Bitch” — Reader teaches Brigitte to stand up for herself

Part 1 Of Stupid/Cringey Ginger Snaps Incorrect quotes, Reader might be crazier then the sisters so its a perfect match -

Scene 1: Readers self-esteem boot camp

Some dickwad in class. Brandon. Jasons friend. with-a-patchy-beard. keeps mocking Brigitte every time she answers a question.

“Oh wow, Brigitte read a book, everyone clap.”

"*cough* *cough* dork.. *cough*"

Brigitte shrinks a little more every time. Until (Reader) across the room hears it again.

(Reader): *muttering* “ I’m gonna turn his kneecaps into earrings.”

Later, in the hallway, (Reader) grabs Brigitte by her shoulders

(Reader): “You are not letting a boy with three chin hairs and the IQ of a light switch talk to you like that.”

Brigitte: *mumbling* “It’s not worth it—”

(Reader): “YES IT IS. You don’t let walking acne talk trash while you just blink twice and absorb it like a sponge.”

Scene 2: “We Need To Speak To You About Brigitte…”

Pamela drops her arts and crafts and immediately assumes Ginger burned something down. Rushing to the school in full “concerned mom” mode, wearing an aggressively floral cardigan and flats.

She walks into the principal’s office expecting chaos.....Instead, she finds Brigitte… sitting next to (Reader)..

Pamela *confused mom face*: “Wait… Brigitte? Not Ginger?”

Principal: “Mrs. Fitzgerald Your daughter Brigitte got into an altercation—”

Pamela (cutting in): “Okay but like… was she the instigator or did someone provoke her? Because Brigitte has the social skills of a turtle!"

[Reader]: “Technically I punched her. Brigitte just verbally obliterated her.”

Pamela blinks. Looks at Brigitte. Brigitte looks… proud? A little chaotic?? And also not sitting by Ginger?

Pamela *blurts out*: “Oh my god… she has friends.”

Everyone in the room pauses.

Pamela: “Like a person is… next to her. On purpose.”

Principal: “…That’s Not the Point, Ma’am.”

Pamela tries to snap back into “angry mom” mode but it’s too late. She’s spiraling.

Pamela (nodding slowly): “Wow. I was just saying to my husband, my girls are so codependent. I mean I tried to get them to join Girl Scouts but Ginger threatened a counselor—”

Principal: “Mrs. Fitzgerald—”

Pamela *rambling*: “—and now look! Brigitte is forming bonds! With people! Who apparently throw books! It’s like watching a turtle come out of its shell… and stab someone with it.”

Scene 3: Ginger finds out..uh oh

Ginger storms into Brigitte’s room like a slasher character

She’s holding the detention slip she stole off the kitchen counter. Her eyeliner is darker than her soul. She’s ready for WAR.

Ginger: “You got detention… without me?”

Brigitte *barely looking up from her book*: “I didn’t think it was a group activity.”

Ginger: “Brigitte. I set a garbage can on fire and you cried. Now you’re throwing hands and getting written up for violence? With THEM?? What, do you get one emotionally unstable girl in your life and suddenly I'm irrelevant?!"

Brigitte: "(Reader) just... helped me stand up for myself."

Ginger *mocking gasp*: "So their your little trauma coach now?! Where was I when you were emotionally repressed and refusing to make eye contact, huh? Right next to you! In the dark! Suffering!"

Ginger is lowkey jealous. Brigitte always followed her lead, and now she's out here getting corrupted by this individual

Meanshile Brigitte is lowkey thriving. She's been hanging out with (Reader), roasting rude classmates, and developing an identity outside of Ginger's shadow.

BONUS:

Ginger meets (Reader) later and immediately goes:

“So you’re the one corrupting my little sister. I like you. But if you get her arrested, I get visiting hours first.”

#x reader #ginger snaps #slashers #ginger snaps x reader #brigitte fitzgerald #ginger fitzgerald #pamela fitzgerald #incorrect quotes

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