Thinking abt Giulio Gandini from the You're Next movie. Why he so FINE

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Thinking abt Giulio Gandini from the You're Next movie. Why he so FINE
Baxter as a full-on 2000s-era hipster. Dyed black hair, super skinny jeans, a cardigan, thick glasses with eyeliner. He carries around a typewriter. He only likes bands you've never heard of. He's got silly socks and no tattoos but if he did have one it would be a mustache on the inside of his index finger.
DO YOU SEE
this aint even a headcanon this is just real i think
studying for my exam? writing my research paper? No, Hetalia!
the sweetest thing I've ever heard 😭
(x)
yeah im sobbing over this so what
look back got me BROKENNN IT DIDNT HAVE TO BE THIS WAYYYY
Did the thing!
he might be the love of my life
Stardew Valley’s music sounds super menacing if you transpose it into a minor key.
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ALMOST FORGOT HAPPY BDAY BEST BOY
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Back on that yearly one-month stardew valley hyperfixation oh boy what a treat!!
New AU lol, MC is a laaaady
Baxter stood in his bedroom, smoothing out his jacket as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was feeling ... well, he was having a hard time understanding how he was feeling. There was a little bit of apathy, a little bit of dread. Some disappointment, some anger, but buried underneath all of that was just the tiniest little sliver of hope.
He was 18 now, and with adulthood came new responsibilities, his parents often told him. He'd be expected to take over the family business, of course. But more immediately, he'd be expected to marry. Not out of love, nothing as maudlin as that, but to someone his parents chose, someone who could help the family image, and most importantly, open up new avenues for his father's ventures.
His life was being decided for him, but that was nothing new.
As he straightened his tie for the umpteenth time, there was a knock on the door -- one of the servants peeked her head in and announced that his parents were ready for him.
"Thank you," he said softly, shooting a smile at the servant, who smiled back. He'd always made a point to be kind to the people his mother and father had tried to teach him were beneath him, both because he didn't think so and because he desperately wanted to be nothing at all like them.
Baxter made his way through the halls of his childhood home, in no real rush to get down to the dining room. That's where his parents were, dressed in their finest and fully prepared to wine and dine another couple that was almost as rich as they were. And that's where you would be.
"She's a fine girl," his mother had told him before she proceeded to list off your father's investments instead of any of your qualities. He had heard you were beautiful, so at least that was something.
But when he reached his destination and finally saw you for the first time ... well, "beautiful" was such a weak word to describe what he saw in you. You were ethereal.
He took his normal seat at the table -- tonight, it was the one right next to you. At that distance, he could tell that you smelled nice too, and when you smiled at him and shook his hand, he had the fleeting thought that maybe, even if just by accident, his parents had managed to do something nice for him by bringing you into his world.
Despite his initial attraction to you, the dinner was more than a little awkward. You hadn't wanted to talk much, it seemed, and attempts by the older adults to get a conversation started had all failed.
It wasn't until dessert was being served that you leaned over and asked him, just above a whisper, "Can I tell you a secret?"
"You can," he said, unable to hold back a smirk.
"I very much don't want to be here."
You said it so matter-of-factly that he couldn't help but bark out a laugh -- one that he quickly turned to a cough when his mother looked his way. After they went back to their own conversation, he leaned over slightly and said, "Can I tell you a secret of my own?"
"You can."'
"I very much don't want to be here either."
You smiled then -- the first genuine smile of the night. He wanted more.
Baxter made a show of standing up from the table then, and with a deep bow that had you stifling a giggle, he said, "Would you care to accompany me on a walk?"
He held a hand out to you, and when you took it, you curtsied to him -- a full-on actual curtsy. That may have been when he fell in love.
"I would like that quite a lot, sir, thank you," you told him, raising your skirt with your free hand and dipping down again.
His father complimented yours on your manners, but the twinkle in your eye told Baxter that you were being remarkably insincere. If he'd fallen in love before, he was head over heels now.
That night, as you walked through the gardens of his family's estate, you talked to him -- really and truly talked. You talked about your hopes and dreams, your past, how powerless you felt in knowing that your whole life was being decided for you. How nice of a surprise it was that somehow you'd been introduced to someone who knew every bit of how you felt.
It was silly, he knew that on some level. That a few hours with a person wasn't long enough to truly know them or to fall in love, at least not a love that would last for the rest of his life. But with you, he saw those gardens with new eyes. Things that had seemed dull and commonplace before seemed fresh and exciting. Things that had always seemed impossible felt not so out of reach.
At some point, you put your hand back in his. It was warm and comforting, and they fit together perfectly.
"Could I ask you a question?" Baxter said, pausing the walk to move to stand in front of you.
"You could."
"Do you believe in fate?"
By then, he'd seen you smile several times, but at his question, you positively beamed.
"I do," you answered. "And you?"
Matching your expression, he stepped closer to you, moving to place your hand on his shoulder as he put his own on your waist. You brought your other hand up to the back of his neck, toying with the strands of hair there.
"I do."
Based on what happens when you have feelings for Baxter in Step 4 but turn him down when he confesses his love for yooooou :)
Nights had always been hard for Baxter. They were when he felt most alert, sure, but being alert also meant being aware. And for Baxter, that meant being aware of how alone he was.
But ever since he reconnected with you, nights had become something he looked forward to.
It had been a few months since you and Baxter had run into each other in the days leading up to Jude and Scott's wedding. It had only taken days for him to fall back in love with you, or rather to admit that he'd never actually fallen out of love with you, but you were more hesitant.
"I'm sorry, Baxter, I can't," you told him after he confessed his feelings to you. "Maybe someday, but right now..."
"I see," he'd replied, and he did see. It hurt, of course, but he understood perfectly why you weren't ready to jump into a relationship with him.
But you'd left the door open for a reconciliation. And he wasn't going to miss his chance again.
Things started out slow -- after your late night conversation in the office, he took you back to your apartment and walked you to your door like the gentleman that he was. The next day, you'd invited him to hang out with your friends, something he was so thankful for.
He didn't want to come on too strong, to appear too excited to actually have people in his life, so he waited a few days to ask you out for coffee. He sent you texts sporadically, and when you answered he agonized about how long he should wait to reply.
But as the weeks went on, you spent more and more time together. The natural flirt in him came out more, and he started noticing you being more responsive to it. It was a wonderful feeling.
Soon, you spent more nights together than you did apart. Not full nights -- though he was desperate to have you in his bed, to hold you, to wake up with you in his arms -- but evenings. When you were both done with work, you'd come over to his apartment and he'd cook dinner for you, or he'd come over to yours and take you out. Sometimes after you'd go dancing, sometimes you'd watch a movie.
As time went on, the dances got more and more intimate in tiny little increments. You sat closer together when you watched TV, and paid less attention to plots and more attention to each other. It took longer to say goodnight.
One night, you were over at his place for another homecooked meal. He was by the counter, putting the finishing touches on a dish before he put it in the oven, and you took the opportunity to put on some music, looking back at him just in time to see him smiling.
Baxter slid the pan into the oven, set a timer, and turned to you. With a dramatic flourish, so silly it made you laugh, he bowed and extended his hand to you. When you took it, he pulled you in close. Closer than people who were just friends would dance.
"May I let you in on something?" he asked softly after a few minutes. You pulled back to look at him and saw that his cheeks were pink, but he was still wearing a small smile.
"Of course," you answered.
"I just wanted you to know -- it felt important to let you know -- that while my feelings for you remain the same, I'm not doing all of this because I'm expecting any sort of return," he said.
"What do you mean?"
He paused for a moment, the same smile, almost pained, remaining on his face. You felt him give your hand a squeeze, then he said, "If you were to one day return my feelings, that would be wonderful. But I'm not spending all of this time with you because I want to woo you. This means ... you mean more to me than that. Even if no romance were to ever blossom between us again, these moments with you have meant more to me than I can possibly say."
You took a beat to consider what he said. You took him in, the consummate gentleman in front of you who you'd fallen in love with all those years ago and who managed to work his way back into your heart after breaking it back then. He was being sincere in saying that all of that -- you knew that. And it meant more to you than you ever could have imagined.
"Baxter," you began, moving your hand to toy with the collar of his shirt. He hummed in response, and you said, "What if I want you to though?"
"What if you want me to what?"
"Woo me."
For the first time since he began talking, his smile faltered. His feet stopped moving, so you stopped with him, and slowly, the hand that had been holding yours moved to cup your cheek.
You gave him a small nod, and he closed the distance between you.
Baxter hadn't been lying when he told you that he'd become quite the impressive cook, but that night the dinner he'd prepared for you went to waste. By the time his timer went off, clothes were strewn around the kitchen -- he barely remembered to put on mitts when he pulled the dish out of the oven, shirt off, hair a mess and pants unbuttoned and hanging loosely around his hips. It set on the counter, forgotten, as he led you towards his bedroom, but you only made it as far the couch before your hands found their way back to each other.
He'd had to wait for you to be ready to welcome him back into your heart, but that was fine with him. He was a patient man. And the next morning when he woke up, still pressed against you, feeling your warmth, he was overcome with emotion. For this, he would have waited a lifetime.
SLOW BURNN?!?!!?
OUR LIFE X BLOOMING PANIC
You've been nursing a crush on Cove for years -- years -- but you've always been too scared to make a move, afraid that if you confessed your feelings and he didn't return them, it would ruin your friendship. Or even if he did return them, what if you dated and it didn't work out?
He was the best friend you'd ever had, the most important person in your life, and later, he ended up being your roommate -- you couldn't risk losing him. So you kept your feelings bottled up, hoping that over time they would fade. Maybe you'd meet someone else that you felt that spark with. It felt impossible ...
... Until it didn't.
You'd been a Blooming Panic fan for ages, and when you found a link to the server, you'd been so excited. None of your friends were into it, and it was always nice to meet people with shared interests. When you got settled into the conversation there, you were happy to find that not only were the other members fellow fans, but also incredibly nice and welcoming.
One member, a handsome little troll with the screenname xyx, had seemed to take a special interest in you. You'd been doing video calls, learning more about each other and sometimes getting into deeper topics. After one of those calls, one in which he let his walls down a bit and showed some vulnerability, you came to the realization: you liked him.
You talked regularly, but the night of the ORCA charity dinner, you told him you'd be on a bit later than normal. You got dressed up in your finest clothes, and when you saw Cove waiting in the living room in his own dress clothes and a big smile, another thing struck you. As he held out his arm to you and escorted you down to his car, your heart didn't ache as deeply as it normally would at that kind of touch.
When you arrived at the dinner, things were different too. You found yourself getting excited not about the possibility of dancing with Cove, which normally made your stomach flip in the most pleasant way, but about getting home and talking to xyx.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cove could barely stand how beautiful you looked, and how close you were when you danced. He'd had a crush of his own for a long time, but like you, he was scared. But he didn't want to be scared anymore.
As he moved around the dancefloor clumsily with you, taking delight in the little laughs you gave when he stumbled, he decided that he didn't want to go any longer without telling you. He couldn't. If you did feel the same way, then he'd have all he ever wanted. And if you didn't, he had to believe that the friendship was strong enough to survive it.
But the night went fast, and he couldn't find the right time to confess his feelings. Soon you were back home -- he thought about doing it when you got inside, but you'd kissed his cheek and hold him goodnight then went to your room. He was down, but he still wasn't out.
Cove paced around his room for a while, not bothering to change into his pajamas. He was too busy thinking. He'd started to work himself up, thinking that maybe tonight wasn't the night after all, but then he heard a faint giggle coming from your room. You were still up. Maybe it was meant to be like this after all.
He approached your door and saw that you'd left it cracked. He pushed it open slightly, opening his mouth to just jump into it, but he saw you were on a call with someone. A beautiful someone, with a smooth voice made cooler with an Australian accent, and the things he was saying made him seem impossibly suave.
Cove heard the man call you "doll," and even from the doorway he saw the blush that lit up your cheeks.
You'd talked to Cove about xyx, of course, but he'd never seen him. He'd never heard him talk to you, or you talk to him. He wasn't the most adept at relationships, but he didn't really need to be to see that there was chemistry there. That you were happy.
As quietly as he could, he shut your door and retreated to his own room. He changed into his pajamas and went to bed. Alone, as usual.
HELPP AAAAHHH
This is PT 3 PT 1, PT 2
hey girlie *manspreads*