#basically every one of their conversations

[quarterlifekitty]

König and Domestic Silk Moth Hybrid!Reader

Due to popular demand (about 4 people)

Context: in this one, I’m having König stay human and having hybrids in a pet role. As an insect hybrid, I’m making her small AF (like 2-3 ft tall). I did consider making her Barbie sized tho 👀. So this is gonna have size kink bordering on micro/macro just so you know!

König is stuck on medical leave, and pretty damned miserable. He sustained a break that’s put him out of commission for a while. He’s never spent so long in his empty home, and it’s driving him insane. He’s spent basically his entire adult life married to his work, so he’s woefully unprepared to keep himself entertained.

And despite being something of a loner most times, he misses the noise. He misses the bodies and conversation. He and Horangi have a phone call every so often, and text as frequently as the work allows, but that only takes up so much time in the day.

And it’s Horangi that suggests a hybrid.

That’s something that he could throw himself into to keep occupied, as well as giving company. And unlike a pet, a hybrid would be able to be mostly self sufficient whenever he returned to work.

(Horangi doesn’t want to say if he returns. But König is not a young man, and has sustained a serious injury. There’s a chance that even if he heals, he won’t be the same as before. Combined with his rank, it won’t be huge surprise if he’s pressured or forced into retirement if his utility is limited.)

König is apprehensive— so he doesn’t want something quite as needy as a cat or dog hybrid, where he’d have to deal with heats and noise. And Horangi happens to have an old friend, retired, who raises domestic silk moth hybrids with his newfound free time. You’re picked to be offered up, freshly cut from your thick silk cocoon.

And for König, it’s love at first sight.

You’re very pretty. Fluffy white fur, big, dark, eyes. And so small. You barely come up to his hip, and raise your arms, asking to be lifted. It’s only then that he learns domesticated silk moths are flightless, their wings are pretty but unable to fly. It makes him feel a little bit of kinship with you. Restricted movement, denied purpose.

And basically his life revolves around you from that point. König doesn’t have many involved or expensive hobbies, so he has a lot of time and resources to devote to your care. You’re something of a niche pet, so it’s a little difficult to find things made for you. He resorts to commissions. Don’t fucking look at his Etsy purchase history.

You live your life perched on his shoulders or in his arms (you’re much too small to keep up with him). He’s a little afraid of letting you in his bed at night, he doesn’t want to roll over and crush you by accident, but you keep crawling under his covers anyways. You can’t help having cocooning behavior.

He’s constantly sitting you on ledges. On the sink while he shaves, on the counter when he cooks, on his desk when he works. You’ve always gotta be within arms reach for petting purposes.

And the petting, the kissing… he’s so addicted to the contact. He’s been alone for so long, and you’re so soft.

And that just leads to him getting more and more curious about your body. You don’t mind— you love him! And he loves his little Seidenmotte.

He’s beyond delicate with you. You’re so small— he has to work you up quite a bit before he can even fit a finger into your cute little pussy.

God it makes him hard how he can pin you down by the stomach with just one hand. And you make these little pips and squeaks when he fingers you— it’s just too cute for words. He totally shares some pictures with Horangi as thanks. (Which might lead to a couple of other colorful character asking to see pictures of you).

Usually he fucks your soft, fuzzy thighs to get off. He’s so warm and heavy against your clit, his cockhead practically reaching your chest. He paints your tits with white, pearly ribbons that glisten against the fuzz of your chest.

If you’re on top, he likes watching your useless wings beat while you slide your wet little cunt over him, the ridge of his head making you shiver when it bumps against your clit. You usually end up making yourself cum once or twice, and when you’re too tired and sensitive to move yourself he’ll grab your waist and grind you against him, using you like a toy to get himself off.

You don’t spread your wings often, but when you do, it leaves a little bit of moth dust behind from the tiny scales you shed. König thinks it’s so cute to see it against his bedsheets— it’s like glittery fresh snow, proof of how excited he made you.

[stxrslut]

INTRODUCING : BABYDOLL!READER ˚୨୧⋆.

babydoll!reader, so very unique and reserved, paired with the infamous drug dealer barry, she certainly is an interesting girl.

babydoll is one of those people who you can never tell is truly there. eyes always wide, thoughts always miles away. her comments on everything are nothing but vague and you must really know her to understand her.

barry understands her, she feels at peace around him. maybe it’s because of all the drugs he feeds her, but she’s calm around him and she’s comfortable and she trusts herself to be vulnerable around him even though she shouldn’t.

she’s one of those “weird girls”. the ones that nobody talked to in high school because they were a little scared of her.

she picks up wild animals and she plays with lethal weapons, she collects weird looking dolls that are bound to freak the most basic of people out. if there’s one more thing that makes her weird, it’s her in bed.

bondage, bodily fluids, extreme pain, fear, marking, being used like a flashlight even when she can’t coherently say she wants it. she enjoys that. she doesn’t think sex is good if she’s not hurting by the end of it, if there’s not one large bruise or scratch or mark on her body.

she’s only ever at barry’s side, there have been a few times where members of the public have expressed concern, not many people can remember the last time they saw her sober. many believe it’s her boyfriend who pumps her full of substance, but they’d be surprised to know that when she’s alone with him, she’s often sober.

she doesn’t feel the need to mask herself around him, sure she’ll smoke a joint or two every now and then but she’s able to just lay around, be lazy and be herself. be dazed and feel like she’s not being judged.

her and barry have long conversations about random things, she sits around whilst his clients are visiting and she pisses him off by walking around in her underwear when prying eyes might see.

they work, like bread and butter. they’re both weirdos, that’s what makes them so awfully perfect.

[isaidyoulookshitty]

idk it is so upsetting to me that veilguard is the first dragon age game i won't be replaying. when i was 15 i played origins so many times (almost a dozen) it is one of the only games i have ever 100% finished. da2 was the same! and while i didn't make it through as many playthroughs of inquisition i put hundreds of hours into it and made an effort to get to the bottom of everything the game threw at me. until veilguard, i had bought every available dragon age dlc for all games, tried to play almost every route given in the story choices, and spent hours reading through codex entries to soak up as much lore as i could.

veilguard has rendered all of that completely null.

it feels almost spiteful at this point that this new frakenspliced bioware cared so little to honor the bones and meat of the first three games. 15 years i have spent loving and cherishing (and criticizing) this franchise and now i feel like a fucking idiot for it. my grey warden? canonically awol and never addressed again. hawke? irrelevant and, for some players, potentially stuck in the fade forever. inquisitor? stripped of any complexity or depth i had given her in favor of the most syrupy, out of character fairytale true love's kiss ending with a man that shattered her worldview and broke her heart. how do you take 10 years to craft an ending this dissatisfying and thoughtless?

and the world i spent a decade and a half fighting for, shaping with player choices, and calling home? gone. "overwhelmed by the blight." literally scorched earth for the next game to build on with whatever the writers pull out of their ass to make players forget all about the original dragon age. it's tragic! disrespectful to longtime fans at best, at worst it feels intentional and like i am being made the butt of a joke told by writers who in the promotional material sound like they could not even be assed to play the games they're attempting to draw from. veilguard is just a product to be sold, not a story worthy of The Dragon Age Setting.

and i haven't even touched on all my gripes with the game's writing, the sanitization of any canon conflict that could be uncomfortable or difficult to address, the stale and cutesy therapyspeak and lessons in basic morality that are baked into every in-game interaction (most of which are shallow and all the same anyways) compared to the dialogue trees from the other 3 games. it is so frustrating to see that the devs chose to cave to a decade of vitriolic fandom politics in favor of addressing the kettle they wrote themselves into.

instead of hand-waving racism toward elves, the panic over qunari, the isolation of the dwarves, the corruption of the chantry, the abuse in the circles of magi, and slavery in tevinter, we should have been given the chance to confront all of it. to put a real end to it. we will never get to do that now. in fact, in their failure to follow through, bioware has only succeeded in exacerbating all of these issues. they have made the elves, which they have openly ADMITTED were "inspired" by Jewish and indigenous peoples, their mouthpiece for white guilt and shame passed down from one's ancestors (while also gutting elves' religion, culture, history, social differences, etc. i could go on). they PERPETUATE the same stereotypes of barbarity, violence, and warmongering imposed on the qunari by the rest of thedas by continuing to make them an opposing enemy force with the exception being a couple of friends they have neatly packaged for us. the unsatisfying conclusion to the mage-templar schism in inquisition is inconsequential. who the player chose to HEAD THE SOUTHERN CHANTRY as divine is deliberately made irrelevant. the dwarves are still isolated and ignorant of their origins save for harding (assuming she doesn't end up killed) and a single closed-off group. and the slaves in tevinter (again, mostly elves)? conveniently kept out of sight and conversation when we finally get to minrathous. everything that happened to fenris to make him the character he is, arguably the most impactful and sympathetic out of all the da2 companions, is not even addressed, much less tackled. all of it is swept under the rug.

i could go on about how i, a queer and nonbinary adult fan, thought their handling of gender and LGBTQIA+ identities was heavy-handed, infantilizing, and felt so out of place within the setting it makes easy fodder for the "woke=broke" crowd that wouldn't have been receptive to queer rep anyway, but that would need to be another post in itself. not to mention the romance! unfortunate that i chose to romance lucanis not knowing his is now notorious for a lack of content, meaningful dialogue, pacing, and actual development. i won't even get to see the other romances in comparison because, as i have said, i will not be replaying.

i wanted dragon age: dreadwolf. i wanted a solid conclusion to a story almost 20 years in the making. a dragon age reboot might even have been a great idea somewhere down the line, but this was not the game to do it with. it was supposed to be a sequel and they couldn't even get that right. did i enjoy parts of it? of course! i finished it! but i won't be doing it again. the game clearly intends you to, considering a significant portion is locked away by decisions players are forced to make pretty early on, but i can't make myself do it. it makes me way too sad.

[skimmingmilk]

i've just found out your tumblr has even MORe picket fence writing and im over the moon?? But also my heart was shattered with the back in time wip 😭😭😭 how does sonic find the strength to leave baby tails behind, how does he react when he sees tails again in his own timeline after having met sick abandoned baby tails??

Heheheh, yeah, there are some little fics or scenes I've written that I hesitate to put on AO3 sometimes (or just aren't complete enough to be a story on their own), so I like to throw them at Tumblr from time to time. Glad you found them! :D

Ohh, the back in time WIP... Not sure how much I can give away because of the chance that it's going to end up part of a bigger fic... but it'll still be a long while until I get around to posting that xD Maybe people will forget lol.

Potential future spoilers under the cut?

So! The way I see it playing out is that Sonic is going to find it in him to leave baby Tails behind because he knows they'll cross paths one day, the way they're supposed to and everything will play out from there. He knows he can't stay in the past and he can't take baby Tails to his present. Plus, Silver's with him and it probably wouldn't go over well to try and explain why it'd be a good idea to take baby Tails with him when it would negate pretty much everything Sonic and Tails experienced together since meeting on West Side Island or cause a split in the timeline where now there's a universe where Sonic never got to meet Tails because he wasn't there and now Sonic's time with have two Tailses. He knows that it can't happen.

But... Sonic still can't stop wondering about the little guy. Is he cold? Is he scared? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he lonely? Hurt? All the things he's not letting himself think about when it comes to his Tails (the 10 year old who's on his first solo adventure and basically gone as close to no contact as possible in order to "prove himself"). He projects all that onto the baby version of him because he knows Tails can handle himself (and that's not why he's worried about him, what he's uncomfortable with is the motive behind the journey). So he gets his hands on two Chaos Emeralds and goes back to check on baby Tails by himself. Just this once.

Except it doesn't end up being just once. Because there is this disconnect and distance between Sonic and Tails of the present, doubts that have arisen in the wake of Forces, Frontiers, and now Tails's absence, Sonic's drawn more and more to the past. Baby Tails smiles and laughs and he doesn't pull away from him and he likes to play and explore and he still needs him. It's just so easy for Sonic to make him feel better. Just by being there.

Also, because this is after Frontiers, going through cyberspace and the cyber corruption has opened the gates to Sonic's memories a bit and they're kind of leaking into his thoughts more and more. He's falling into the habit of ruminating, reliving moments and questioning choices he made, things he might've done wrong, could've done better. So that maybe Tails wouldn't feel like he needs to become a completely different person.

Present Tails won't listen to him, but baby Tails hangs onto every word. So maybe by being there... Tails might remember being loved and maybe the 10 year old won't only see the worst parts of himself when he looks in the mirror if Sonic can try again and show the younger version that he's worth something just as he is.

I think Sonic crosses paths with present Tails twice during all of this. The first conversation goes okay, but there's an awkwardness to it. But Sonic does try to make an effort to be more open with Tails in the hopes that maybe it will set a better example. And Tails is surprisingly receptive to it. So Sonic resolves to not go back to the past, because Tails seems to be doing okay after all. And he's reminded that he loves who his little brother is now. The good and the bad made him who he is, and would he really want to change that? Of course not!

Unfortunately, the second conversation doesn't go nearly as well...

So Sonic goes back to see baby Tails in the wake of it - not because he needs it, but because Tails clearly does - but when he arrives, the forest is burning and he can't find Tails anywhere...

[posting-for-the-void]

So a lot of twins claim to have a sort of twintuition thing where they understand each other easily and often without words, and sometimes have high-level empathetic reactions to things that are happening to the other twin, even if they don’t know what’s happening to the other twin because they are in different locations at the time. There’s obviously not a lot of scientific evidence to back it up, but, eh. It’s a cool concept.

But what if, for the Skywalker twins, the force just ramped that up to 100.

Fic-ish thing below the cut.

Five-year-old Luke is learning the Tatooine slave language. After all, Aunt Beru used to be Beru Whitesun, before she married Uncle Owen, and his mom was Grandma Shmi, who used to be a Skywalker before she married Uncle Owen’s dad. Beru helps the recently-escaped hide in the secret compartment in the wall of their house more often than Owen does, but he claims it’s for plausible deniability, whatever that means. Leia, on Alderaan, begins mixing the harsh, clicking language with Basic subconsciously, but only when talking to herself in private. After all, she is a princess, and they must choose their words carefully in front of others.

Leia at age ten argues with her cousin about whether droids deserve respect, and across the galaxy, Luke is absolutely overcome with the need to thank every single droid he’s ever met for helping him with anything (he did this anyways before but for some reason he has to do it again Right Now).

Luke gets to drive a speeder by himself for the first time at 13 and Leia is practically begging for someone to take her out in a hovercar and go as fast as possible. And if that can’t happen she’s going to get the space equivalent of a Formula One racing sim, goddamnit.

Seventeen-year-old Junior Senator Leia’s heart skips a beat every time someone mentions Tatooine. She isn’t sure why. Obi-Wan lives there, yes, but something in her just knows that isn’t the real reason. Luke, meanwhile, yearns to see the galaxy, and often finds himself outside at night, staring at the sky. His eyes, for as long as he can remember, have always felt drawn towards a specific star. He asked Uncle Owen about it once when he was younger, and he gruffly explained that it was the Alderaan system. He feels like there’s something there, waiting for him. He’s not sure why.

And then they meet in person, and it’s “You’re a little short for a Stormtroope—Luke?”

“Leia?”

“Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so. Can I hug you?”

“Of course, you idiot. You’re my twin brother. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Thanks, Leia. You know, I had the weirdest dreams when I was ten about you and Old Ben.”

“Oh, yeah, that was actually real. I got kidnapped.”

“Cool.”

“Is it true you got nicknamed ‘Wormie’ by your friends?”

“…Yeah.”

And Han is so confused, but it’s fine, and within two hours their conversations are more like, “Hey, Leia, could you pass me the—“

“Yeah, do want the green one or the—“

“No, the blue one, probably. I need it to—“

“Oh, yeah, of course, that makes sense.”

And then Yoda tries to do the whole “Attached, you are,” routine, and Luke is like, “Well, duh. I’m only here so I can teach Leia everything I learn as soon as I get back. I’m just a pilot, which is a lot more replaceable than a princess, so we thought it would be best if I come learn from you instead of her.”

And meanwhile Leia is a lot stronger in the force now, and she meets Vader again and just goes, “Darth Dad, what the actual fuck,” under her breath in the Tatooine slave language, and the hint of Anakin that’s left absolutely freezes. Because Palpatine—Sideous—whatever, he said his kid was dead. He said that Padme died and the kid did too. He lied. And, when he meets Luke later, and he says the same Sithspitting thing, Anakin gets so thrown he accidentally cuts the kid’s hand off. Luke falls, and the shock of it in the force is so strong, and Anakin’s eyes flash blue in grief and love and hope, all at once, and all of the sudden he can think clearly for the first time in years. And his kids’—his kids!—bond in the force is so strong, how did he not notice it before?

And, anyways, I just feel like Skywalker Twintuition would be on a completely other and incomprehensible level.

[deezee112]

The Worst Ending 1 : A Perfectionist's Regret

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | The worst ending 2

Yandere!riddle rosehearts x GN!Reader

A/N : I've been really motivated to do this lately. I've got 5 drafts left! I feel like this chapter is not well written. I will try harder in the next chapter :( And I'm sorry that I'm uploading this late. I had a really bad stomachache so I uploaded it a bit late.

Content Warning : This story contains themes of emotional strain , obsessive behavior , accidental death , guilt , and grief. It explores intense psychological dynamics and depicts a tragic ending involving a fatal accident. Reader discretion is advised.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia

“ I’ll Name You Riddle ”

The name slipped off you tongue almost effortlessly, as if it had been waiting there all along. You gazed at the doll's blank yet lifelike face and nodded to herself. “ Riddle. That’s what I’ll call you. ”

The doll blinked slowly, as though acknowledging its new identity.

You didn’t know why you had chosen that name it had simply felt right. It carried a certain weight, a sense of authority. You stood and stretched, glancing down at you peculiar charge. “ Well, Riddle, looks like it’s you and me now. Let’s see how far we can take this. ”

Teaching Riddle proved to be both an intriguing and frustrating experience. At first , he could barely do anything on his own. You had to guide him through every motion , every word, every action. You taught him how to speak , patiently repeating phrases until his soft , childlike voice mimicked your perfectly. You taught him how to walk , holding his hands and encouraging him to take one step at a time.

What surprised your most was his ability to learn. Once Riddle grasped the basics, he began picking up new skills at an astonishing rate. He could read within weeks , solve simple puzzles shortly after , and soon displayed an uncanny understanding of rules and structure.

“ I want things to be perfect. ” he said one evening, his voice calm yet insistent as he carefully folded his clothes. “ Everything should be just right. ”

You raised an eyebrow, watching him from the kitchen. “ Perfect, huh? Life’s rarely like that, kid. Sometimes things get messy. ”

Riddle turned to you, his expression thoughtful. “ Messy isn’t good. Messy means failure. ”

You sighed, walking over to ruffle his red hair. It was soft and fine, feeling more human with every passing day. “ Messy means you’re human. Nobody gets everything right all the time. ”

Riddle frowned at you, his crimson eyes sharp and intense. “ I’ll be perfect. You’ll see. ”

You chuckled. “ If you say so, Riddle. ”

As months turned into years, Riddle grew into a sharp and disciplined boy. He excelled at everything you taught him , whether it was academics , cooking ( It was actually quite bad but he tried 😔 ) , or even social etiquette. But his relentless pursuit of perfection came with a cost.

He was strict not just with himself , but with your as well. He insisted on rules for everything how meals should be prepared , how furniture should be arranged , even how conversations should flow.

“ You didn’t say ‘please’ ” Riddle pointed out one evening when You asked him to pass the salt.

You rolled you eyes. “ Riddle, I’m not going to follow rules for something as small as this. ”

“ But rules are important ” he argued , his voice rising slightly. “ They keep everything in order! ”

“ And sometimes, order isn’t what you need ” You countered , you tone firm. “ Relax, Riddle. Life isn’t all about rules. ”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, You thought he might argue further. But then he simply nodded, his expression unreadable.

“ You didn’t fold the napkins properly ” he pointed out one evening as you set the table.

You sighed, barely restraining you irritation. “ Riddle, it’s just dinner. No one’s grading us on napkin folding. ”

“ But it’s wrong ” he insisted, his voice sharp.

“ Riddle ” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ It’s not a big deal. Let it go. ”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he nodded stiffly and returned to his task, his movements tense and mechanical.

Their your and him arguments grew more frequent as time went on. You tried to reason with him, to show him that life wasn’t about rigid rules and unattainable standards. But Riddle was unyielding, his belief in perfection as absolute as the laws he created for himself.

It was a stormy evening when everything fell apart. You had come home late, drenched from the rain and utterly exhausted. You kicked off your shoes and left them in the middle of the hallway, something you know Riddle would disapprove of.

“ y/n ” his voice called from the living room, calm but cold.

You sighed, running a hand through your wet hair. “ Not now, Riddle. I’m tired. ”

“ You left your shoes in the hallway ” he said, appearing in the doorway. His expression was as strict as ever, his eyes gleaming with disapproval.

“ I’ll move them later ” you muttered, brushing past him.

“ No ” he said, his voice rising slightly. “ You need to move them now. ”

You turned to face him, you patience snapping. “ Riddle, it’s just a pair of shoes! Why does everything have to be a big deal with you!? ”

“ Because rules matter!! ” he shouted, his small fists clenched at his sides.

“ Not all the time! ” you shot back. “ Sometimes, you have to let things go! ”

But Riddle didn’t listen. In his mind, you refusal to follow the rules was a betrayal of everything he believed in. He reached out to grab you arm, his grip surprisingly strong.

“ Riddle, let go ” you said, you voice low and warning.

“ You don’t understand ” he said, his voice trembling with frustration. “ You never understand! ”

He pushed you, and You stumbled backward. you foot caught on the edge of the coffee table, and you fell hard, you head striking the corner of the table.

Time seemed to freeze as you crumpled to the floor, motionless.

“ y-y/n..? ” Riddle’s voice was small, almost a whisper.

He knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch her. “ y/n, get up. Please, get up! ”

But you didn’t move.

Riddle sat beside you lifeless body, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. He hadn’t meant to hurt you. He had just wanted you to understand.

“ I-I didn’t mean to… ” he whispered, his voice cracking.

He cradled you head in his lap, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. For the first time in his short life, Riddle felt the weight of imperfection not in himself, but in the world around him. A world where mistakes had consequences he couldn’t undo.

“ I’m sorry.. ” he choked out, his tears falling onto her still face. “ I’m so sorry.... ”

Hours passed, and Riddle didn’t move. He stayed by you side, his small hands clutching your as though his touch could bring her back.

“ I’ll fix this ” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “ I’ll find a way. I’ll be better. I’ll be perfect, just like you wanted. ”

But deep down, he know there was no fixing this. you was gone, and it was his fault.

When the authorities arrived, they found Riddle sitting silently beside You body, his expression blank but his eyes haunted.

They asked him what had happened, but he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The words caught in his throat, suffocating him with their weight.

Riddle was taken away, his fate uncertain. But no punishment the world could offer would compare to the torment he carried within himself.

Every night, he dreams of your voice. Your laughter Your unwavering patience, and every morning, he wakes up with the painful feeling that he may never hear your voice again.

He had sought perfection, but in the end, all he had found was loss.

“ I’m so sorry.... ”

[woaza]

Could I request all four daddies of Delico's nursery (Gerhard, Dali, dino, Henrique) with their opera singer wife???

Delico’s Nursey x Opera!reader

Paring(s) : Dali D. x Reader, Henrique L. x reader, Dino C. x reader, Gerhard F. x reader.

Word count : 8k (each part is around 2k)

Warnings : Not proofread! (Dino is lowkey toxic, as per usual.)

A/n : I love this request! (Also just pretended most of their wives don’t exist.)

Dali Delico

— After the passing of his wife, looks for an outlet or something to occupy his time. He stars to get into live music. It’s a nice break from his duties and still a refined way to spend one’s time. Then he stumbles upon on of your posters and attends your performance. Hears your voice one time, now consider every single one of your shows booked.

— The theater notice’s how all your shows are booked, and strangely enough the first person to buy tickets (always box seats) is none other than Lord Delico. It’s no secret he enjoyed your singing. Not to mention how much you appreciate the support. In no time he’s personally delivering flowers to your dressing room. Telling you to break a leg before shoes and then after you complimenting your performance.

— After a while you two considered each other friends. He always invited you over to the estate for tea and conversation. Unbeknownst to you it was basically those nights would be some of the most romantic of all your life. Walks through the Delico gardens, Fine food, luxurious gifts, and you were showered in compliments. Your platonic feelings quickly fled and were replaced by a deep passionate romantic burn. These ‘dates’ were always secret and strictly private. Seeming as they were unfit for people of both your statuses. Dali could care less, simply only wanting to impress you.

— Soon enough you two officially are married, you’re finally introduced to his children, who are now yours as-well. Raphael is quick to get attached to you, and loves when you sing him to bed. He enjoys the lullaby’s but his eyes absolutely sparkles when his father takes him to your shows. It’s a special event for him. Since Ul is far too young to sit through a theater show Dali just takes him. The two of them sit in a private box seat and he watches in amazement as his new parent sings on the stage. It means a lot to Raphael, since he gets special time with his dad but also gets to watch you. When he grows older it will be one of his fondest memories.

— Not to mention how Dali love’s every moment of being married to you. When people recognize you on the street. His heart swells with pride as he gets to gush about your talents or at a party when people compliment you. He’s quick to mention how he gets to hear your voice in private.

Henrique Lorca

— The Twin girls insist to their father to go to your show, that’s where he first sees you. The girls plead and bed telling him that all young ladies went and enjoyed your show! They “had” to go! If he wasn’t sitting down he would have been knocked onto his feet. Immediately admired you and your impressive voice.

— His girls are completely obsessed with you. (He is as-well but plays it off.) it gets to a point where the plea and beg to meet you. Eventually paying you for a private meet and great. The girls are practically climbing over you, much to your enjoyment. Appreciating that you had inspired them that much. Little did you know their father was practicing drooling from your presence as much as the little girls were. (After that starts to leave chocolates with small notes in your dressing room after your shows.)

— The twins (and his) obsession with you only continues to grow. Now you are coming over for private shows and are paid extra to give the young ladies lessons. Which are always the highlight of their weeks. Soon enough your like second family, spending most dinners with them. When you stay late and the twins are put to sleep by the Nannie’s. You and Lord Lorca start to have long talks by the fire place. These moments are always calm and peaceful. The way he speaks and looks at you, you cant help but be a bit flustered. Starting to feel as if there if more between you and him. (Tension is thick.)

— Eventually you two break through the tension and wed. Lucia and Elena were the proudest flower girls. Mouths both wide open as you walked down the aisle. It doesn’t matter what your or doing or where you are they always show off their new parent. Lord Lorca couldn’t be more impressed either and somewhat stunned he was able to actually marry you. He along with the twins just admire you so sincerely.

— Although he’d rather you not tell anyone about this, he love love loves when you sing for him and only him. Be it you two are laying in bed for the night and you sing a soft lullaby or your in the shower singing as loud as you can. You voice is so powerful to him, he feels it throughout his body every time.

Dino Classico

— Only goes to your show because he was invited, he did not want to go. At first not spearing the performance a second thought. In his mind he was far too busy to do such things. Live theater was for those who had the time, which he believed he didn’t have. Until he hears your soul rectifying voice. Lord Classico can’t help but be hooked almost immediately. (Then proceeds to act as if he had always liked Opera.)

— Starts to involve himself with other noble men that are present in the live entertainment world. Big names and big singers, eventually he’s able to introduce himself to you at one of these grand parties. Quickly hitting it off with you, he was quick to brag all the names and people he was associated with, catching your attention. He more so hypes himself up than complimenting to you. But by the end of the night offers to sponsor you. (low-key flaunting his wealth.)

— As he’s now sponsoring you, he starts to ask you to perform at his events. Which you happily accept. He’s always a gentleman around you! How could you say no? He pays you more than you could ask for and he’s your biggest supporter and quickly becoming one of your most respected friends. Soon enough you’re singing in a more intimate space. Just you and him in a private parlor until late at night. He simply sits and close his eyes, humming along to all your songs. (In all honesty probably wastes no time in asking you to be his wife.)

— Your wedding was a grand event, lots of guests and top notch catering. Dino always made you swoon and was dedicated to showing you his undying love and affection. In his head swearing you’d be his last wife, in his mind you were the only “competent” one. You even handled Theodore well, an excellent role model for the boy. You were successful and much better with People skills. Dino was throughly pleased with the knowledge and compassion you showed the boy. Finding your patience admirable.

— While Theodore could swear you were one of the best things to happen to him! You were smart and successful, not to mention actually took the time to understand him and embrace your role as his parent. Overall you make the Classico estate a true home.

Gerhard Fra

— Invited to your performance by some other Nobel men. Normally believed he didn’t have time for such things. Live entertainment weren’t the tops of his concerns. Yet he was quickly silenced when he sees you perform for the first time. In his eyes the peak of elegance. Who wouldn’t be hooked by how powerful your voice was.

— Fra was so enamored, it was ridiculous. He felt almost foolish. Like he was back in his youth falling for a woman he didn’t even know. He made no attempt to put himself in your path. Choosing to ignore his feelings and not act on them. Until he was at a social event, which so happened to be hosted by your cousin or something. You were in attendance and he quickly was introduced to you. After a moment you smiled “I believe I’ve seen you at one of my performances, no? Thank you for your support.” It was so simple but enough to make him never miss another one of yours shoes. (Which Does not go unnoticed by you.)

— You write him a sweet note. It was a simple note of your appreciation for his support in your career. It was short and sweet but you meant every word. He read the note, blushing profusely. You were perfect. What didn’t you have? In his mind you were the definition of everything he could have ever asked for. With haste he wastes no time writing you back. This starts a conversation, you explain on your passions and he happily reads them. Asking more questions turning the small letter into a whole letter sending conversation. Everyday he starts to look forward to your new letter. After a couple of months he’s ever s bold as to start flirting.

— The letters lead to one thing to another and you two are wed. He is convinced he has the most perfect wife anyone could ask for, and will take zero comments. Not to mention tries to keep you all for himself, when people ask for private shows he’s quick to wave them off. Claiming your far to busy preparing for your next show and what not. Yet in reality he wants to spend more time with you.

— Angelico starts to warm up to you, at first not liking you all too much. He’s scared of his father in simple terms and you seemed to like his father. Not to mention Lord Fra doing everything in his power to keep you two at minimal contact. But if you persist and show you care for the boy. Angelico will be absolutely delighted and will be your biggest fan.!

[effemimaniac]

feels kind of, how do you say, "le ironic" that one of the biggest tensions immediately post-breakup was my posting about it, anything to do with it beyond vague nothing statements about my feelings was ~too personal~, didn't matter how tongue-in-cheek it was, postcoping was off the table so to speak. but every time they brought it up to me I took it seriously and communicated my feelings and adjusted my behaviour because I thought there was something there to salvage. then just a couple weeks after the move he's talking shit about me on his blog in a really deceptive way, and when I bring it up to him his private response was basically a complete denial to engage or take any kind of accountability, and afterwards his public defense was that he thought I wouldn't see it. which is provably untrue, I mean in the week before we moved out we had a conversation where I said I still checked in on his blog, I just didn't follow him because I didn't want it showing up on my feed. we weren't talking all the time but we were normal at that point. that part was pretty confusing, but I guess that defense wasn't for me, it was for everyone else that didn't know the situation and might believe it absent of any other information. but aside from the fact it was blatantly false it was also just kind of a stupid defense? "oh I thought this person I told I wanted to still be friends with and still checks my blog wouldn't see my post misrepresenting her. yeah it was meant to be behind her back. that makes it better somehow." who is that for? it's insane.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

out of my league | pedri gonzalez [part v]

🎓 synopsis: It’s like everyone’s decided for you – your friends are ready to meet Pedri, and his are curious about you. You’re both excited, but happy to take it slow. It’s a little nerve-wracking, but there’s something comforting about knowing you’re taking one step at a time. tags: nerd and jock trope, emotional vulnerability, overthinking. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) | (around 2.5k words)

you can read the first part here, or go to the masterlist.

The guys are already at their usual table by the time Pedri grabs his food. He slides in next to Ferran, who’s in the middle of a story, something about a fight breaking out at a party last weekend. Pedri half-listens, nodding at the right moments, but his focus keeps drifting. He sneaks a look at his phone. Nothing. No new messages. He’s already sent you a good morning text hours ago, and he keeps checking, almost out of habit now.

“Hey, earth to Pedri,” Pablo’s voice breaks through, and Pedri looks up to see all three of them staring at him, grinning. Ferran raises an eyebrow.

“You okay, man?” he asks, teasing in his voice. “You’ve been weird lately. Like, distracted.”

“Yeah, way distracted,” Hector chimes in, reaching across the table to nudge Pedri’s shoulder. “Ever since you started seeing that girl. What’s her name again?”

“Don’t even start,” Pedri cuts him off, but he can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He picks at his food, trying to ignore the way Pablo’s smirk gets even wider.

“See?” Ferran laughs. “Look at him! He’s gone soft, I’m telling you. That girl’s got him whipped. Never seen you like this, man. Not even when you were with Melanie.”

Pedri just rolls his eyes, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth to avoid saying anything. Mentioning Melanie stings a little, but he knows they don’t mean anything by it. It’s just the way they are. He’s used to it. They all go back to arguing about the latest club in town, which one has the best music. The conversation is loud, rapid-fire, overlapping voices.

“What about this weekend, huh? Who’s going out?”

They all start talking about who’s got a hookup for a VIP spot, who’s bringing which girl. Pedri zones out, half-listening while his hand drifts to his phone again. He taps the screen. Still nothing from you. He feels a small knot tighten in his chest. It’s stupid, he knows – he doesn’t need to hear from you every second of the day – but there’s something about the silence that makes him uneasy.

“Oh, come on!” Pablo laughs, leaning over to catch a look of Pedri’s screen. “You’re not even listening, are you? She hasn’t texted you back yet, huh?”

Hector snickers, Ferran shakes his head, and Pedri feels his face warm as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Shut up,” he mutters, though he can’t help but laugh, too. They’re right, after all.

“He’s got it bad,” Ferran says, “Seriously, man, what happened to you? I remember when you were one of us.”

“Hey, you should invite her to the next party,” Pablo says, Ferran’s head snaps up with interest, and Hector chuckles.

Pedri hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” he says slowly, looking around the table. “With Mel around us like a hawk... it’s just –” He pauses, remembering the scene from the other week, his face twisting with annoyance. “You should’ve seen her the other day. She made a scene, called her ugly right in front of the whole campus, basically.”

“Is she?” Ferran cuts in.

Pedri blinks, confused. “What?”

“Is she ugly?” Ferran repeats, his expression too innocent, and Pablo nearly chokes on his drink.

“No!” Pedri says, his face flushing.

“It’s okay, Pepi,” Pablo says, slinging an arm around Pedri’s shoulder and giving him a mock-sympathetic pat. “You’re ugly too.”

“Shut up,” Pedri mutters, his cheeks burning as he glares at them, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. He ducks his head, a little embarrassed, but also smiling despite himself.

“No, but for real,” Ferran says, “Mel’s not gonna back off as long as she thinks she’s got a shot with you. Maybe if she sees you out there with someone else... it’ll make her chill.”

Pedri goes quiet, thinking about it. He knows Ferran’s right. Melanie’s always been possessive, always close enough to remind him of what they used to be. She’s not exactly subtle.

“I don’t want to make it a whole thing,” Pedri says, shaking his head, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

“Sometimes you have to make it a thing,” Pablo says, shrugging. “Show her you’ve moved on.”

“And,” Hector adds with a sly grin, “we wanna meet the new girl.”

Pedri rolls his eyes, but his mind’s already racing, thinking about you, about Melanie, about what it would mean to show up with you, to make things public. There’s a part of him that wants it so much, more than he’s willing to admit to them, to himself.

“Maybe,” he says, playing it off with a casual shrug, but his heart’s beating faster in his chest. “We’ll see.”

part 2

Ever since that first night together, it’s like a switch flipped. All that careful pacing, all that patience, is gone. Now it’s like you’re two magnets, completely incapable of staying apart. Your room, his room, your shower, his shower – it doesn’t matter. Every interaction, every conversation, somehow turns into a mess of lips and hands and whispered things that make your cheeks burn even thinking about them now. It’s insane.

And it makes sense, doesn’t it? The floodgates are open, and you’re not exactly in a hurry to close them. But it’s also... distracting. So distracting. You didn’t even answer his good morning text today, not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew the second you did, you’d spiral. Your brain would go there – straight to him and the way his hands feel on your waist, or how his voice drops when he’s close to you. And you just couldn’t let that happen because you really needed to study.

You told yourself a few hours apart would help, give you some distance to focus. But of course, it didn’t. 

You’re sitting at your usual table in the library, textbooks open, a half-empty coffee cup pushed to the side. Your head’s drifting between project deadlines and the endless string of chemical formulas you’re supposed to have memorized by now. It’s not going great, and honestly, your brain is two seconds away from a complete shutdown.

“Be honest, are you embarrassed of us?” Alexia’s voice cuts through your haze.

“What?” you ask, blinking at her, your mind still clinging to the last remnants of molecular structures.

“How come you haven’t introduced us to your boyfriend yet?” Ana chimes in.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say automatically, sitting up straighter. “Guys, we’re taking things slow. He just got out of a relationship.”

“So?” Alexia asks, raising an eyebrow.

“And you guys keep saying you hate him,” you add, pointing a finger at them accusingly.

“What? No, we don’t!” Ana says, looking genuinely scandalized.

“Yeah,” Alexia admits, “we don’t say it. We just drop hints.”

You groan, leaning back in your chair, ready to end this conversation before it spirals out of control.

“And for the record,” Alexia continues, “we don’t hate-hate him. We just think he and his friends are pretentious jerks who care too much about appearances and not enough about academic success. Sorry.”

“Not helping,” you mutter, but a small laugh that escapes, despite how defensive you’re feeling.

Arthur, who’s been oddly quiet this whole time, finally clears his throat. “I have to admit something,” he says, his voice unusually serious.

Everyone turns to him, sensing a shift in the room.

“I like football.”

The whole table freezes, staring at him like he’s just confessed to a crime. “What?” Alexia’s the first to break the silence. “Since when?”

“Since I was a kid,” Arthur says, shrugging like it’s no big deal, even though the confession is clearly costing him. “And I go to all of his games. And... I think he knows I’m friends with you. He waved at me once.”

There’s another beat of stunned silence before Ana gasps, her jaw dropping. “Arthur! You traitor!”

“I can’t believe this,” Alexia says, shaking her head. “You’ve been hiding this from us this whole time?”

“It’s not like I keep it a secret,” Arthur defends, though his cheeks are starting to turn pink. “I just... didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Maybe I can talk to him, then,” you say, your voice so soft it’s almost lost under the chatter of the library. The words feel heavy, awkward, and you regret even saying anything. But now, all three of your friends are staring at you.

“What?” Alexia asks, leaning forward like she didn’t quite catch it.

“Just... bring it up,” you mumble, scratching the back of your neck, your eyes fixed on the table. “Casually. See what he thinks. And... maybe we can think of something for you guys to meet.”

Ana gasps, practically vibrating with excitement. “Finally!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. 

“Wait, hold up,” Alexia says, her brow furrowing as she looks at you skeptically. “Are you sure?"

“Of course. Well, I mean...” you start, still avoiding eye contact, “it is kind of not not a big deal.”, you say, busy thinking about how you’d even bring this up to him. Just casually? Like, “Hey, my friends want to meet you. No pressure, though.” It feels impossible.

“So,” Ana cuts in, “what’s the plan? Like, are we thinking a big group thing? Or a small hangout where we can all judge him quietly?”

“Please don’t do that,” you say, dragging your hands down your face as you sigh. “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to talk to him first.”

Arthur leans on the table. “You’re really overthinking this, you know. If he’s half as into you as I think, he’ll agree to whatever.”

“I’ll figure something out,” you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel. 

“Good,” Alexia says, leaning back with a small smile. “And remember, we don’t actually hate him. We just like to keep you on your toes.”

Ana grins. “Yeah. We’ll be nice. Probably.”

“Probably,” Arthur repeats.

part 3

You lean against the wall, your fingers tracing the rim of a coffee cup, lost in thought. It’s been a whirlwind, everything with Pedri, the way it’s evolved so quickly, so intensely. You didn't expect this – any of this. When you first met him, it was like a spark, like a connection you just couldn’t ignore, but now? Now it feels like something much deeper.

You take a sip of your coffee, but it’s lukewarm now, and you don’t really taste it. Your mind drifts back to the last few days, the way Pedri’s presence has become so constant, so consuming. It should feel overwhelming, but instead, you find yourself craving more. More of him, more of the way he makes you feel alive in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s scary, how fast it’s moving, but you don’t want to stop it.

Now, thanks to your friends and their constant teasing, your head isn’t just swimming with heated memories of him, now it’s anxiety. Like, full-blown, stomach-twisting anxiety about him meeting your friends. Which makes sense, every time you take a big step with him, it feels like there’s always a bigger one waiting just around the corner. It’s normal, sure, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying. 

Do I really want him to meet them? The thought makes your stomach turn a little, not because you don’t want him to, but because you’re not sure what will happen once they meet. You sigh, rubbing your temple. Then, you stand up, shaking off the thoughts, deciding that overthinking isn’t going to get you anywhere.

So when you know your schedules match up, and you’re both going to be in the same building, you don’t even think twice. You find him, and just seeing him, you feel ridiculous about it, but it’s like your heart relaxes for the first time all day.

You just walk up and wrap your arms around him like you’ve been apart for weeks, not just a few hours. He doesn’t even hesitate, pulling you in just as tight.

“Sorry for not texting back,” you mumble, your cheek pressed against his chest. Your voice comes out weird, quieter than you meant it to, and there’s guilt sitting heavy in your stomach.

Pedri just holds you, his hand moving slow and steady down your back. “It’s okay,” he says, “You’re here now.”

And there’s that feeling again. Like everything else doesn’t matter for a minute. Just him, holding you, making everything in your world feel less... scary.

“My friends want to meet you,” you say, still pressed against him, your voice muffled against his shirt. You don’t even lift your head; it’s safer here.

“Sorry, what?” Pedri leans back, just enough to break the hug, one hand moving to your cheek, tilting your face up to his. His thumb brushes your skin like he’s trying to soften whatever has you so tense. His eyes flicker between yours, then settle on your lips, focused, waiting for you to say it again.

“My friends want to meet you,” you repeat, even quieter this time, but clear enough.

He smiles, wide, surprised, almost laughing. “My friends want to meet you!” he echoes, like it’s the most hilarious thing in the world.

Then, softer, his hands find their way into your hair. “What do you think?” he asks, his hands slide into your hair, petting softly, his fingers careful like he’s trying to calm your nerves. He looks entertained by the idea, maybe even excited, but there’s a carefulness too, the way he’s always so careful with you.

“I don’t know,” you say after thinking for a moment, your voice small. “It’s just... they’re my friends. And they’re kind of –”

“Protective?” he offers.

“Judgmental,” you correct, half-laughing but mostly serious.

He chuckles, leaning closer, the warmth of his breath brushing your forehead. “They can’t be worse than Ferran and Pablo. And you don’t have to decide now,” he adds, his tone more serious. “I’ll meet them when you’re ready. Just say the word, okay?”

The way he’s looking at you makes your chest ache, all that patience and care. It’s overwhelming sometimes, how good he is at this – at making you feel like you can take all the time in the world.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice almost breaking, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s relief. It’s gratitude.

“Now, come on, let’s get out of here,” he says, his hand sliding back to your waist, pulling you flush against him in one smooth motion. He leans in, his lips brushing just under your ear in a quick kiss before whispering, “I missed you.” Another kiss, softer this time. “I’m not mad you didn’t text. I know you’re a good girl.” And then he bites, just the faintest tug at your earlobe, all very fast.

“But now,” he murmurs, his voice casual, like he’s barely trying, “I think I deserve a reward.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, narrowing your eyes like you’re annoyed, but the corner of your mouth betrays you. “You’re getting spoiled,” you tease. “I’ve been rewarding you so much, you’re starting to think it’s a given.”

He smirks, tilting his head like he’s considering that for a moment, but his grip on your waist tightens. “It is a given,” he says, completely confident. “Because I’m always going to deserve it.”

And with that, you’re already giving in, rolling your eyes but laughing anyway. “Fine,” you say, trying to sound exasperated, but it’s no use. “You do deserve it.”

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 7

Other Chapters:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I

Chapter 6

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Glen is getting ready to head to Austin for some time with his family, but wants to spend one last evening with Gabby. They settle in at his place, ordering takeout, and cuddling up on the couch. Then he invites Gabby to spend the night, enjoying one last evening together.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mentions of Alcohol, SMUT (Nudity, Missionary Position it's their first time...it may get more kinky later, I don't know yet. But there's nothing wrong with a little vanilla.)

A/N: So after the last chapter I've been writing this one basically non-stop. Normally I hit bumps along the way which is why it's usually 5-7 days between chapters. But I wrote this one in like two and didn't want to wait to post, so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs!

Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @teacupsandtopgun @loveatfirsttornado

The days following their first breakfast together settled into a comfortable rhythm, as though Glen and Gabby had been a part of each other’s lives for much longer than a few weeks. They fell into an easy balance of spending time together while keeping up with their individual responsibilities. Some nights were spent at Gabby’s cozy apartment, the two of them cooking simple meals side by side, the radio playing softly in the background as they laughed about Glen’s inability to chop onions without tearing up. Other nights were at Glen’s place, where they sprawled on his couch, eating takeout straight from the containers and watching movies they only half-paid attention to, too absorbed in their conversation to care about the plot.

When they weren’t together, they stayed in touch. Gabby found herself smiling at the occasional texts Glen sent throughout the day—sometimes a photo of his dog napping in a patch of sunlight, other times a joke or comment about the podcast recording he’d just finished. In return, she sent him snapshots of her coffee-fueled study sessions, complete with exaggerated captions about the “thrilling life of a student.” It wasn’t overbearing or constant, just enough to remind them both that the other was thinking of them.

Despite the ease of their time together, neither pushed to define what was happening between them. They hadn’t taken things public—Glen’s fame adding a layer of complexity neither of them was eager to rush into—but there was an unspoken understanding that, for now, they were simply enjoying the moments they had. Each interaction felt natural, like the slow unfolding of something neither of them had expected but both were beginning to treasure.

By the end of Glen’s first week off, the lines between his world and Gabby’s had started to blur in small, significant ways. It wasn’t just that his spare toothbrush had found a spot in her bathroom or that his favorite blanket had been claimed as hers during their movie nights. It was the way they talked, the way they moved around each other, the way they found themselves looking forward to the next time without ever having to say it.

The hum of Gabby’s car engine filled the silence as she pulled into her apartment parking lot, her mind still replaying the events of her busy day. She was already planning on collapsing onto the couch with a bowl of cereal when her phone buzzed on the passenger seat. Picking it up, she smiled as Glen’s name lit up the screen.

Glen: Hey, you free tonight?

The message was simple, but she could practically hear his voice in her head, that mix of charm and warmth that made her stomach flip every time. She bit her lip, typing out a quick reply.

Gabby: I think I can squeeze you into my schedule 😉

His response was almost instant.

Glen: Good, because I was hoping to steal you for the evening. Come over?

She laughed softly, the exhaustion from her day momentarily forgotten.

Gabby: What’s the occasion?

A few dots appeared on the screen as he typed.

Glen: You. Me. One last quiet night before I head to Austin. No agenda, just us.

Gabby’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in his words. It was rare for someone to make her feel this... wanted. Not in a grand, sweeping way, but in the quiet, meaningful moments that reminded her how much she liked having him in her life.

Gabby: I’m on my way.

Sliding her phone back into her bag, she took a deep breath and shifted the car back into drive. A quiet night with Glen sounded like exactly what she needed.

Gabby pulled up to Glen’s house, the low glow of the porch light illuminating the familiar front door. Her heart skipped a beat as she grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and made her way up the steps. Before she could even knock, the door swung open, and Brisket came barreling toward her, tail wagging furiously.

“Hey, buddy!” Gabby crouched down, laughing as the dog nudged his head against her hands, soaking up all the attention she was more than happy to give. “Were you waiting for me, huh? Such a good boy!”

Glen leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a teasing smirk on his face. “Nice to see you too, babe,” he drawled, feigning offense.

Gabby glanced up at him, still scratching behind Brisket’s ears, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there.” She stood up, brushing her hands off on her jeans as she stepped closer to him.

Glen chuckled, shaking his head. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Before he could say anything else, Gabby slipped her arms around his waist, tilting her head up to look at him. “Hi.”

His teasing expression softened as he leaned down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “Hi,” he murmured back, his voice warm and low.

He dipped his head, their lips meeting in a slow, unhurried kiss, the kind that made the world outside his front door disappear. Brisket let out a little huff, circling at their feet as if to remind them he was still there. Gabby pulled back slightly, smiling against Glen’s lips.

“Looks like someone’s jealous,” she whispered.

Glen glanced down at the dog, who was now pawing at Gabby’s leg, clearly not done being the center of attention. 

“Can you blame him?” Glen asked, his lips quirking into a grin.

Gabby laughed, giving Brisket one last pat before Glen stepped aside to let her in. 

“Come on,” he said, resting a hand lightly on her back as they walked into the house. “I’ve got wine chilling and takeout on the way. Thought we could keep it low-key tonight.”

“Sounds perfect,” Gabby replied, feeling her shoulders relax as she slipped off her shoes.

The doorbell rang, cutting through their conversation. Brisket barked once, trotting toward the door, his tail wagging.

“That’ll be the food,” Glen said, brushing a hand against Gabby’s arm as he passed her.

He returned a moment later, balancing a stack of takeout containers in one hand while shutting the door with the other. Gabby watched as he brought the bags to the kitchen counter and began unpacking them, the familiar aroma of Thai food filling the room.

“What do I owe you?” she asked, stepping closer to the counter.

Glen glanced at her over his shoulder, his brows furrowing slightly as if the question surprised him. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Glen,” she said, folding her arms. “I mean it. I don’t want you—or me, for that matter—feeling like I’m taking advantage of you.”

He paused, turning to look at her fully. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve paid for everything so far,” she said, motioning to the takeout. “Dinner on our first date, every DoorDash order, everything. I don’t want it to seem like I’m just… letting you take care of everything.”

Glen leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms as he considered her words. “You buy groceries when we cook at your place,” he pointed out.

Gabby tilted her head, giving him a skeptical look.

“What?” Glen asked, smirking now.

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”

His expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. He stepped toward her, his hands settling lightly on her waist. 

“Gabby,” he said gently, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of her shirt. “I don’t think that at all. I wouldn’t have asked you over if I did.”

She let out a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly, but he wasn’t done. 

“Look,” he continued, “it’s still early, yeah. But these are our dates. I was raised that the guy is supposed to pay on the dates”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she raised a brow. “Supposed to?”

“Yup,” he said confidently, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

“That’s such an old school thing.” She rolled her eyes, earning a low chuckle from him.

“Wait a second,” he said, his tone teasing as he tilted his head at her. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

Gabby met his gaze, challenging. “What if I did?”

His grin widened, and without another word, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. She gasped softly as his warm breath ghosted against her skin, his voice low as he murmured, “Then I might have to make you take it back.”

Her laugh turned into a quiet hum as his kisses deepened, his hands sliding to her lower back to pull her closer. She threaded her fingers into his hair, and before she could think, Glen’s hands lifted her onto the counter.

Glen’s lips moved against hers with a growing urgency, his hands steady on her hips as he pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. Gabby’s fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly as her breath hitched.

“Glen,” she managed between kisses, her voice soft and a little breathless.

“Hmm?” he hummed against her lips, his hands trailing to her thighs.

“The food,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, though her hands didn’t leave his hair.

“What about it?” he asked, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting against hers as his hands tightened their hold on her.

“It’s going to get cold,” she pointed out, her tone half-hearted, as though she wasn’t entirely convinced it mattered.

Glen grinned, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth as he whispered, “I’m hungry for something else.”

Her laugh was soft and breathy, and she gave him a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated. “Glen,” she said again, her tone firmer this time, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

He groaned dramatically, letting his forehead drop to her shoulder as he sighed. 

“Fine,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to help her slide off the counter. “We can eat.”

Gabby smirked, smoothing her shirt as she stepped back toward the counter, her cheeks still flushed. “Thank you for your sacrifice.”

He shot her a playful glare as he grabbed the takeout containers, setting them on the counter with a bit more flair than necessary. 

“But just so we’re clear,” he said, his tone serious even as his lips quirked into a grin, “I’m coming back for dessert later.”

She didn’t respond, but the warmth in her smile and the quick glance she gave him said enough.

As they settled at the counter with their takeout containers spread out between them, the casual clinking of chopsticks and soft rustle of food filled the air. Glen cracked open the lid of his container and took a sniff. "Okay, this might be the best-smelling food I’ve ever had," he said, grabbing a generous bite.

Gabby raised an eyebrow as she poked at her dumplings. “You said that about the tacos we had last night.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it,” he shot back, his mouth full enough to make her wrinkle her nose.

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment before Glen leaned his chin on his hand, watching her. “So, what’s your guilty pleasure food?”

Gabby paused mid-bite, considering. “Hmm. Probably mac and cheese. But like, the boxed kind. The neon orange powder stuff. None of that fancy baked nonsense.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I knew you were secretly a five-year-old.”

She gave him a mock glare. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve had it Mr. Won’t Eat Cheese. What about you?”

“Easy,” he said, without hesitation. “Pop-Tarts. Strawberry. No frosting.”

“No frosting?” she exclaimed, looking genuinely horrified. “What kind of monster eats Pop-Tarts without frosting?”

“This kind,” he said proudly, tapping his chest. “They’re better that way.”

“You’re objectively wrong,” she declared, shaking her head in mock disbelief.

“Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.” He shrugged, reaching for another bite of pad Thai.

“Or,” she countered, narrowing her eyes, “you’ll have to come over for breakfast sometime and let me prove you wrong.”

His brows lifted in interest. “You’re challenging me to a Pop-Tart showdown?”

“Absolutely,” she said with a confident nod. “Frosted strawberry will change your life.”

Glen laughed, the kind of laugh that felt easy and genuine. “Alright, deal. But don’t cry when you realize you’ve been living a lie.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, smirking. “We’ll see about that.”

The conversation drifted as they kept eating, dipping into lighter topics like movies they loved and places they wanted to visit someday. There was a warmth between them, the kind that made the night feel effortless, as though they’d been doing this for years rather than weeks.

When Gabby reached for the last dumpling, Glen swooped in with his chopsticks, snatching it right before she could.

“Hey!” she protested, staring at him in mock betrayal.

He grinned as he popped it into his mouth, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. “You snooze, you lose.”

“You’re the worst,” she said, though her smile betrayed her.

“And yet, here you are,” he replied, leaning back in his seat with a triumphant grin.

After dinner, Gabby stood and started gathering up the empty containers, stacking them neatly as Glen leaned back against the counter, watching her with a satisfied smile.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s no big deal,” she replied, waving him off as she carried the trash over to the bin. “You bought dinner, and wouldn’t let me pay for at least my share. So the least I can do is help clean up.”

She noticed a couple of dishes in the sink—a stray coffee mug and a plate from earlier in the day. Without hesitation, she rolled up her sleeves and started rinsing them off.

“Gabby,” Glen said, his tone warning, as he moved to stand behind her. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” she answered simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“This is my house,” he reminded her, stepping closer. “And my rules clearly state: no guests do chores.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?”

“It is.” His voice held a playful firmness, but Gabby wasn’t one to back down easily.

“Well,” she said, turning back to the dishes and continuing to rinse, “I’m not a guest, technically. I’m more of a—what’s the term? Frequent flyer? That means the rule doesn’t apply to me.”

“Frequent flyer?” he repeated, amused. “You’re really stretching here, babe.”

“Call it what you want,” she quipped, reaching for the dish soap. “But I’m finishing these.”

Glen moved quickly, stepping close enough that she could feel the warmth of him at her back. She turned, ready to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped her. His brow lifted, silently telling her to drop it.

“Glen—”

Before she could say another word, he cupped her face and kissed her. It wasn’t rushed or heated, but slow and deliberate, his lips brushing hers just enough to make her heart stutter. He pulled back just slightly, their foreheads nearly touching.

“Let me do it,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing.

Gabby blinked up at him, momentarily disarmed. “You’re using kissing to get your way now?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a small smirk. “Is it working?”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved into a reluctant smile. “Fine. But only because you’re stubborn.”

“Stubborn and charming,” he corrected, taking the sponge from her hand and tossing it into the sink. “Now, go relax while I handle this.”

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, stepping aside.

“True,” he called over his shoulder as he began cleaning up the counter. “But you like me anyway.”

Gabby laughed, shaking her head as she leaned against the kitchen island. Watching Glen hum softly while he tidied up, she couldn’t help but think that, yes, she liked him—a little more than she cared to admit.

The evening slowly shifted into that quiet, comfortable lull that comes when two people are perfectly content in each other's company. Gabby was perched on the couch, her legs curled beneath her as she absently scrolled through a playlist on her phone, and Glen was sitting next to her, leaning back against the cushions with his arm draped casually along the backrest.

As the last song of her playlist faded, Glen glanced over at her, his hazel eyes warm but hesitant. “Hey,” he said softly, his tone different now—gentler, more deliberate.

Gabby turned to him, her head tilting slightly. “Yeah?”

His hand reached for hers, threading their fingers together as he gave a small smile. “Do you, uh… want to stay the night?”

Her heart gave a quick, surprised flutter. They’d spent plenty of time together over the last week, but this felt different—more significant, somehow.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Glen gave her hand a soft squeeze and nodded, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual confidence. “Yeah. I want you here, with me.”

Gabby’s lips curved into a small smile as she nodded. “Okay,” she said simply.

He smiled back, relief flickering across his face, and stood, tugging her gently to her feet. 

“Come on,” he said, his voice dipping lower as he led her toward his bedroom.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifted. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm, golden light across the room, making it feel cozy and intimate. Glen turned to face her, his hands resting lightly on her hips as she looked up at him, her breath catching.

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering kiss that quickly deepened. Gabby’s hands slid up to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled her closer. The world outside seemed to fade as they got lost in each other, their movements slow and deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world.

Glen’s hands skimmed her sides, his touch firm but careful, and when he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his expression was tender. His lips found hers again, and this time there was no hesitation. The kiss turned hungrier, more urgent, as they backed toward the bed. Glen’s hands moved to the hem of her top, and when she nodded her silent permission, he carefully lifted it over her head and tossed it aside.

She mirrored his movements, her hands tugging at the fabric of his shirt until he pulled it off and let it drop to the floor. For a moment, they paused, their eyes locking as if to silently check in with each other.

“This all okay?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Gabby nodded again, a small, nervous laugh escaping her. Glen reached for her hand again, intertwining their fingers as he guided her gently toward the bed. The quiet confidence in his movements steadied the fluttering nerves that Gabby felt bubbling just beneath the surface. As the backs of her knees brushed the edge of the mattress, Glen paused, looking down at her as if he was committing every detail to memory—the soft curve of her lips, the way her hair framed her face, the trust in her eyes.

Still holding her hand, he leaned down, brushing his lips across hers in a kiss so gentle it sent shivers down her spine. She let out a soft sigh, her free hand moving instinctively to rest against his chest, her fingertips grazing the warmth of his skin.

Glen smiled against her lips, the corners of his mouth curving in that way that always made her heart skip. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice quiet but heavy with sincerity.

Gabby felt her cheeks flush, and she ducked her head slightly, unable to hide the small, bashful smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re just saying that,” she whispered.

He tipped her chin back up with a single finger, his eyes meeting hers. “I’m not,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Before she could reply, his lips captured hers again, this time with more urgency. As the kiss deepened, Glen’s hands found her waist, and he guided her back onto the bed, following her down until they were both lying against the soft comforter.

Gabby’s heart raced as Glen hovered above her, his weight supported by his arms on either side of her. His gaze swept over her, equal parts admiration and restraint, as if he wanted to take his time but was finding it harder with every passing second.

“You sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice low and almost reverent.

Her answer was immediate, her hands sliding up to cradle his face. “I’m sure,” she whispered, pulling him down for another kiss.

Glen’s lips moved from hers, tracing a slow, deliberate path along her jaw and down the curve of her neck. Gabby’s breath hitched as he lingered at the sensitive spot just below her ear, his warm breath sending a wave of goosebumps across her skin.

Her hands roamed over his back, exploring the planes of muscle there as he continued to press soft, heated kisses along her collarbone. When his lips found their way back to hers, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

As the kiss deepened, Glen’s hands began to move with quiet certainty, his fingers brushing over the waistband of her jeans. Gabby’s breath caught in her throat as she felt his gentle tug, pulling the fabric down over her hips. She hesitated for a brief second, her stomach tightening with a sudden, unfamiliar feeling.

The jeans were gone in seconds, but as he moved to remove her shirt, Gabby instinctively covered herself with her hands, suddenly aware of every inch of exposed skin. She felt a flush creep across her chest, her breath shallow as she avoided his gaze for just a moment.

Glen paused, noticing the shift in her energy. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, the tenderness in his gaze giving her an almost overwhelming sense of comfort.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his hands still resting on her waist, the warmth of his touch grounding her.

Gabby shook her head quickly, trying to brush it off. “Nothing,” she said, offering him a half-smile. “Just… I don’t know. I’m fine.”

But Glen didn’t buy it. His brow furrowed in concern as he searched her eyes, sensing the unease she was trying to hide. His fingers gently cupped her face, urging her to meet his gaze.

“Gabs, hey,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. “Talk to me.”

She sighed, her body tensing under the weight of her vulnerability. She was used to being comfortable with Glen, but now–she felt exposed. And it terrified her.

“I just... I don’t know,” she said, her voice trailing off as she gestured at herself. “I’m not exactly—” She cut herself off, the insecurity creeping in again.

Glen’s eyes softened, and his expression changed to one of pure understanding. He moved slowly, deliberately, his hands trailing down her arms, coaxing her to relax. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Gabby opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips.

“No,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “You are. And I’m not just saying that or because I’m your boyfriend or whatever else you were about to say.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his words, but she still felt that twinge of insecurity, the nagging thought that she didn’t look like the women in magazines or the ones she imagined he’d been with before.

But before she could say anything more, Glen lowered himself beside her, his lips finding the sensitive skin just below her ear. His kisses were slow, soft, and deliberate, each one trailing down her neck, over her collarbone, and slowly, carefully, down her chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, his voice thick with admiration. His lips moved lower, brushing across her stomach, and Gabby let out a shaky breath, her body shuddering with each kiss. “Every inch of you is beautiful,” he whispered against her skin.

Gabby closed her eyes, the warmth of his kisses and the sincerity in his words slowly melting away her insecurities. She felt his hands roam along her body, exploring her with such reverence that it felt like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. His lips, soft but insistent, found their way back to hers, kissing her.

Glen pulled away just slightly, his eyes meeting hers again. “You’re perfect, Gabby,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And you don’t need to be anything but yourself for me.”

Gabby’s chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat. The vulnerability, the raw honesty between them, made her heart swell in a way she wasn’t prepared for. She reached for him, pulling him back down into a kiss, letting her hands wander over his back, feeling the heat of his skin, grounding herself in the reality of this moment.

It was slow and tender, the kind of kiss that felt like more than just passion—it was a promise. A promise that, despite her insecurities, she was worthy of this, of him.

Glen’s hands were steady as he slowly slid her underwear down her legs, his gaze never leaving hers. She inhaled sharply, the tension between them thickening, her heart beating faster. When she was completely exposed to him, she couldn’t help but glance down, her eyes tracing the line of his body as he undressed. The sight of him—completely bare—made her pulse quicken.

Once he was bare before her, he leaned down, the muscles in his back rippling with the movement. He crawled back onto the bed, his body brushing against hers as he kissed her again, slow and deliberate, his lips trailing over hers in a heated, tender kiss. Gabby’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the weight of him, all of him, pressing closer, and yet there was an undeniable gentleness in the way he kissed her.

He slid his hand up to her face, cupping it softly as their lips moved together. She kissed him back with an intensity of her own, her hands running up and down his back, feeling every inch of the muscles she had admired from a distance. She couldn’t help but smile against his lips, that nagging insecurity from earlier slowly melting away with every kiss, every touch, every second they spent together.

Glen pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers. He was breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling as he smiled softly at her. “You good?” he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Gabby nodded, her hands sliding down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under her fingertips. “I’m good,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. And for the first time in a while, she truly felt it—good, real, safe.

Glen pulled away just slightly, his hand moving to the nightstand. Gabby watched him curiously, but then understood when she saw the small box in his hand. He looked at her for a moment, his expression soft but serious.

Gabby nodded. Glen carefully opened the box and retrieved a condom, a quiet moment of practicality amidst the heat of the moment. He gave her a reassuring smile as he slid it on.

"Still sure about this?" he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. Gabby nodded, feeling more at ease now that she knew they were both on the same page.

"Yeah," she murmured, smiling up at him, appreciating the care he’d shown. "I’m sure."

As Glen positioned himself above her, he moved slowly, giving her time to adjust. When he finally slid into her, both of them paused.

Gabby’s breath hitched as she felt the initial stretch, a slight discomfort making her eyes flutter shut. She’d imagined this moment, but the reality was different—more intimate, more overwhelming. She could feel herself tense, it having been a while since she’d been with anyone.

But then, Glen’s hands found her face, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he murmured against her ear, “You’re doing great. Just breathe, babe. I’ll go slow.”

His words grounded her, bringing her focus back to him. His presence was calm and steady, and the tenderness in his gaze told her everything she needed to know. Slowly, the discomfort eased, and Gabby let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Glen’s hands moved to her waist, helping her adjust as he began to move, slowly at first, giving her the space she needed. Every inch of him was careful, focused on her, his eyes locked on hers as if he were waiting for any sign that she needed a break. “Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

Gabby’s breath was shallow, but with each movement, the discomfort slowly faded, replaced by something deeper, something more intense. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, her hands gripping his back as she began to meet his movements, urging him on.

Glen kissed her forehead, his lips soft against her skin, whispering more reassurances as they moved together. His voice was hoarse with the effort of holding back, his movements becoming more urgent but still patient, still focused on making sure she was okay.

Gabby, feeling the heat building between them, nodded, her body responding to his in a way that made her forget about the earlier discomfort. 

“I’m okay now. You can go faster,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible, but it was enough.

Glen’s pace quickened then, his movements more desperate. As the tension built, Gabby found herself spiraling, lost in the sensation, and with one final whisper of his name, she reached the peak, her body trembling beneath him.

He followed soon after, his name leaving her lips in a breathless moan as they both rode out their highs together.

After Glen collapsed beside her, pulling her close as they both tried to catch their breath, their bodies tangled together beneath the soft covers. Gabby nestled into his chest, her head resting against his shoulder, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

But the silence was comfortable, filled with the soft sounds of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies pressed together.

“You okay?” Glen finally asked his hand tracing patterns along her back.

Gabby smiled, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth and trust.

After the shared silence of their embrace, Glen gently pressed a kiss to Gabby’s forehead before slipping out of bed. His movements were slow, and careful, as if not wanting to disturb the peace between them. 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, and she nodded, her eyes closing as she listened to the soft sounds of him moving around the room.

When he returned, he held a t-shirt in his hand, the soft fabric looking a little worn, the familiar scent of him still lingering on it. 

“Here,” he said, offering it to her with a warm smile. “Figured you might want something to wear.”

Gabby glanced up at him, still feeling the warmth from their shared moment. She took the shirt from him, fingers brushing against his as she did. “Thanks,” she murmured softly, feeling a little shy now that the raw intensity of the moment had passed.

She slid off the bed and moved toward the bathroom, using the restroom and freshening up before returning to him. When she came back, she saw Glen had pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and was now laying on the bed.

Gabby put on her underwear and then slipped into the oversized shirt Glen had given her, the cotton fabric falling just past her thighs.

She crawled back into bed, settling next to him, feeling the softness of the sheets beneath her. Glen shifted, making space for her, then wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. His touch was light, almost protective as if wanting to ensure she felt safe and cherished.

Gabby snuggled into his chest, the warmth of his body lulling her into a sense of peace. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this comfortable with someone. The vulnerability they’d shared earlier still lingered between them, but now it was wrapped in the softness of intimacy, trust, and care.

“You okay?” Glen asked quietly, his voice soft and steady as his fingers gently traced circles on her back.

Gabby looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with a smile that reached her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, her voice low but filled with contentment. “I’m really good, Glen. Thanks for… everything.”

He smiled down at her, his eyes soft with affection. “Anytime,” he murmured, kissing her forehead gently.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound between them the gentle rhythm of their breathing, the quiet peace that came from being close to someone who truly cared. Gabby closed her eyes, letting the weight of the moment wash over her, feeling safe, seen, and, for the first time in a long time, completely at ease.

Glen didn’t say anything more, but his hand gently stroked her hair, a tender gesture that spoke louder than any words could. And as she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she couldn’t help but think that this—this was exactly what she needed, what she had been longing for without even knowing it.

[opalsiren]

deeply #unrelatable post incoming but it is very odd that whenever i meet a new person and they inevitably ask what i do for work, i have to tell them that i can't work due to illness/disability and basically divulge one of the greatest hardships i've ever experienced. i know people mean well and don't realise what they're asking, but it has the same impact on me as if i were asked to explain my childhood trauma in great detail, bereavements i've experienced or the reoccurring themes in my nightmares. it is difficult to talk about the debiliating illness that's kept me from work, study, and nearly every aspect of 'normal' life with people i'm close to, let alone with someone i've just met. i wish this wasn't a rote question we ask upon meeting someone new, if we got rid of this social norm i wouldn't have to re-open the wound nearly every time i make small talk with a stranger. it's so painful when a normal conversation turns deeply personal in an instant, and i just don't know how to navigate it anymore, if ever i did

[detransdniposting]

They're part of why I made this blog.

They ran one of my friends/former coworker off the site a few weeks ago for refusing to interact with detrans or detrans fetishist blogs after his partner killed herself due to harassment from those groups.

He had a vent blog where he basically said "I wish people like that would get therapy instead of harassing people and threatening to commit hate crimes" and impunkster or whatever flipped shit and sent him his home address and threatened to have every detransitioner she knows send cops to where he was staying.

She accused him of being a therapist that was committing conversion therapy despite him being a trans person who works retail and effectively doxxes him. I messaged her trying to reason with her and she basically just responded with nonsense about having his therapist license taken (again, he works for Adam and Eve), but she was unhinged and just kept saying that he was "stalking her and making alts" every time one of his mutuals or her followers pointed out that she was going overboard.

From my understanding, she's an extremely mentally ill person who admits to having delusions and a loose grasp on reality, she's a detransitioner who attacks transgender people that don't want detrans content around them, she's paranoid that trans people are going to hurt her if they don't support her, and as an intersex person I can't help but notice that she claims that she has an intersex condition because she has an alter with endometriosis, which is not actually an intersex condition, and I'm not sure how an alternate personality can have a physical disability and I'm not sure how that makes the person with the alternate personality actually disabled or intersex.

So yeah. She is extremely transphobic, is probably not actually intersex, and she goes out of her way to attack people who call her out on being transphobic and intersexist to the point where she will chase them off of the site and dox them. She also frequently tells transgender people that they should kill themselves and brings up the transgender suicide rate anytime she's talking to a trans person she doesn't like. She told my friend that she actually supports trans people committing suicide if they are not willing to do transition.

I would definitely recommend that all users in the LGBT community just avoid her at all cost because like I mentioned she is unhinged and admits that she is extremely mentally unwell.

She's just generally a really fucking horrible person who should be avoided at all costs.

yeah, i knew i wasn't making it up or misremembering. this is the person who was back in either late 2023 or early 2024 that was bothering me and is also claiming to be entirely transfem now. don't even talk or engage with impunkster-syndrome if they come crawling back, they're an extremely bad faith run of the mill internet troll and literally the exact type of person i was talking about in that post.

[starcurtain]

I think the Ratiorine fandom really moved on too fast from the fact that Hoyo chose "charming audacity" and "dear gambler" as the first words players would hear from Ratio to Aventurine. Not the second scene. Not the third. The very first sentence players ever hear between those two.

And you know what, we also moved on much too quickly from the next scene too. Ratio was the one to start the whole "Aventurine is a peacock" thing. Why are you sitting around thinking about what alien animals your coworker reminds you of, Veritas? The joke is supposed to be that peacocks are noisy, but then they just drop that like a hot rock so the camera can do a slow pan on Aventurine's chest and Ratio can comment on Aventurine's clothing choices. Since when does Dr. Ratio care what people wear? Why were you looking?! Fellas, is it gay to compare your partner in crime to the symbol of male beauty???

[casualavocados]

If anyone allows Zhang Teng to get in again, I'll kill them!

AI DI + talking about & attitude towards death KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[kingkatsuki]

Specifically thinking about long distance relationships today.

So tell me how you and your f/o would first meet online?

[lakeside-paradise]

Thanks for the tag, Feather!!

Last Song: Black Sorrow by PARK BYEONG HOON (There's a funny and very creepy story to this. I read a fanfic that was basically a ghost/human au where Ivan was dead, and every day after I read that, I've been waking up to Black Sorrow playing. Creepy

Favourite Colour: Blue and purple!

Last book: Persona 5 Manga by Hirato Murasaki (which is just incredible, by the way) or The Men Who Were Sherlock Holmes by Dan Smith (which is genuinely fascinating)

Last TV Show: Persona 5: The Animation (yes I have a problem)

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: Sweet during the day, savoury over the evenings

Relationship: Kinda got coerced into a relationship back when I was too young to know what one was, accepted a relationship because I was too guilty to say no, very much Aromantic

Last Google Search: Can you put converse shoes in the washing machine

Current Obsession: Persona 5 Royal, Alien Stage

Looking Forward To: Reaching the third semester in Persona 5. I don't know what this is, though

Pets: Plenty :3

I have more, but Doris and Albert will do

Tagging: @shrii-kk @atlas-atlantic @echoxeclipse @fishii28 @reapkusho @shidousprincess @the-lazyyy-artist + Open tag!

Tagged by @gudenoodle (and a few others tbh)

Last song: "Wolf Like Me" - TV on the Radio

Fav color: turquoise

Last book: Black Sun - Rebecca Roanhorse

Last TV show: Days of Our Lives

Sweet/spicy/savory: polyamory

Relationship: married

Last google search: glass frogs

Current obsession: therapy, butch arms, Crowley (Good Omens), Dexter Morgan (Dexter), sparkles, hooves, solarpunk

Looking forward to: NEW BOOTS ARRIVING

Pets: My orange feral child

10 Tags @vwcarmats @winniebell @apricitxs @yes-you-are-just-as-sane-as-i-am @xbuggyxboyx @illyriashade56 @zornofzorna-blog @anxiousinternetfox @cedence @thefunkyfolklorist

Have at it :D

Last song: Fav color: Last book: Last TV show: Sweet/spicy/savory: Relationship: Last google search: Current obsession: Looking forward to: Pets: