#im sorry im just so sad and it hurts me so much

[httpsdana]

Hello I have a request!

I hope it’s not too confusing and not too plain

Sorry my first time requesting

I like your fics a lot

So…

It is where reader is friends with Cubarsi and one of her friends likes him. reader likes Pau but doesn’t tell anyone that she likes him. the other friend that likes Pau tells people and thinks Pau likes her and is going to ask her out.

reader gets rlly upset and is already tackling with depression and knowing abt this makes her rlly sad. also if you can add how the girl asks you ask Cubarsi if he likes her. this makes reader so upset. but then Pau sees her upset so he tries to comfort her and confesses he likes reader.

(btw Cubarsi and reader like msg everyday and stuff)

also if you can’t do this or it’s a bit confusing im so sorry. im having this issue irl and wna cry

I am reading over this and it is very confusing very soory

In the Quiet Spaces Between Us~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I really hope this is what you asked for 🙏🏻

She wasn't sure when her friendship with Pau had shifted into something more—when the late-night texts and easy conversations began carrying a weight that made her heart ache.

Maybe it was the way he smiled at her, soft and unguarded, or the way his texts always seemed to brighten her darkest days. Whatever it was, y/n had fallen for him, and the realization had been as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

But she never told anyone. Not Pau, and certainly not her friend María, who recently announced her crush on him with unbridled enthusiasm.

“I think Pau likes me,” María said one evening as you both sat in a café. Her tone was light, but the certainty in her voice cut through y/n like a blade.

She forced a weak smile. “Why do you think that?”

María shrugged, swirling her straw in her iced coffee. “He’s always looking at me during group hangouts. And the other day, he laughed at one of my jokes even though it wasn’t that funny. That has to mean something, right?”

y/n laughed nervously, clutching her own drink like it was a lifeline. “Maybe he just thought it was funny.”

María grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing inside y/n. “No way. I’ve got a feeling about this. I think he’s going to ask me out soon.”

The words made her stomach twist painfully, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Maybe.” she murmured

That night, Pau texted y/n, just like he always did.

Pau: “How was your day?”

y/n: “It was okay. You?”

Pau: “Long, but better now that I’m talking to you.”

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her chest tightening at his words.

Did he mean it the way she wanted him to? Or was this just his way of being a good friend?

y/n: “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Pau: “It’s true. I’d go crazy without our chats.”

She stared at the screen, her heart aching.

If only he knew how much she wished those words carried more meaning.

A few days later, María cornered y/n after a group hangout, her face glowing with excitement. “Hey,” she said, her voice practically buzzing. “I need a favor.”

“What’s up?” she asked, already wary of the look in her eyes.

“Can you ask Pau if he likes me?”

Her words hit her like a punch to the gut. “What?”

María laughed, as though it were the most natural request in the world. “You’re closer to him than I am. He won’t suspect anything if you ask casually.”

y/n felt her mouth go dry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, come on,” María pressed, her grin faltering. “Please? I really think he likes me, but I just want to be sure before I make a move.”

y/n felt like the ground was crumbling beneath her. How could she not see how much this was hurting her?

Her words were the final straw. y/n mumbled an excuse and left the conversation, retreating to the bathroom where she locked the door behind her. Tears burned her eyes as she leaned against the sink, her chest heaving with silent sobs. It felt like everything was crumbling. Her feelings for Pau and her friendship with María were all colliding, leaving her gasping for air.

When she finally emerged, her eyes red and puffy, she avoided everyone and went straight home. She didn’t even check her phone, ignoring the notifications piling up from Pau.

The next morning, a knock at her door startled y/n. Groggily, she pulled herseld out of bed and shuffled to the door, opening it to find Pau standing there.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but laced with concern. “Are you okay? You didn’t reply to my texts last night.”

She blinked at him, her heart aching at the sight of his worried expression. “I’m fine,” she lied.

“No, you’re not,” Pau said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “What’s going on? Did I do something?”

y/n shook her head, avoiding his gaze. “you did nothing wrong. I’m just tired.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and the silence stretched uncomfortably. Then he said, “Is this about María?”

Her head snapped up, her heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been dropping hints lately,” Pau said, his voice careful. “About… us.”

y/n swallowed hard, her throat dry as she expected him to tell her he likes María. “And?”

“And I don’t feel that way about her,” he said simply, his gaze steady on hers.

Relief flooded through her, but it was quickly followed by a wave of guilt. “She really likes you,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Pau said, his voice softening. “But I can’t pretend to feel something I don’t.”

Her hands trembled in her lap, and she clenched them into fists to stop the shaking. “do you like someone else?”

Pau hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Do you really want to know?”

She nodded, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

He reached out, his hand brushing against hers. “I like you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words didn’t register at first. She stared at him, stunned. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, his tone firmer this time. “I have for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head. “But why? I’m… I’m a mess, Pau. I’m not like María. I’m not—”

“Stop,” he said, cutting her off. He reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “You don’t have to be anyone else. You’re enough, just the way you are. And I don’t care what you think about yourself—I see someone strong, kind, and beautiful.”

His words broke through the walls she'd built around her heart, and a sob escaped her lips. “I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispered.

“You’re not losing me,” Pau said, his voice steady. “Not now, not ever.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her as she cried. His embrace was warm and safe, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the darkness in her mind began to lift.

[tristomisto]

I didn’t know how much I needed Jonathan Sims to ridicule my decision making skill.

This game felt like a dream come true and was so my vibe, I can’t wait to find all the branching paths but man those endings…

Spoilers from my playthrough and the game’s ending below

TW: Some Gore talk

So my goal was to be as non-violent as possible (almost always choosing to leave the dagger), and while it’s likely you can get this dialogue anyway, it made me weak.

To have a divine entity tell me “you have a gentle heart” when I told it I didn’t want to hurt it anymore. Floored me.

The game also captivated me in the way the voices worked. Because it’s the same way I hear voices in my head. They don’t have control over me, (unlike the game) I know they are fictional and they are more of a nuisance then anything. They just pop in and out to say their piece, even if I don’t want to hear it. I prefer to think of it as my conscience trying to get through to me in a different way.

Any way back to the game, I made a save right before confronting the narrator and got to see most of the endings (I think).

My first was getting back to the cabin with the Voice of the Hero. I left the dagger upstairs to go to the Princess and figure out what happens next. I always asked for her name, and never got one other than then what the entity called itself, The Shifting Mound.

But the Princess gave me a name, she called me Quiet (due to you actually being a god called the Long Quiet, which was a really cool twist). I found the nickname adorable, so in my head I started calling her Shift. My choice, as always was ever the peaceful option.

I told her we could just leave, and she trusted me. I thanked the Voice of the Hero, who stayed behind to look for the others when we decided to leave. Then together, the Princess and I opened the door, and we’re left to interpret what happens next. I think this is the “good” ending or at least mine.

I also love any ending in which the Princess is given agency. If you bring the dagger downstairs to her at the last scene, she offers to stab you with it. Doing so will reset everything back to the beginning of the game, in the hope that things will be different the next go around and the world won’t end. And even if it isn’t, at least they will find each other here at this moment again and again, and both make the same decision.

I love this ending, especially due to the explore options before taking it. I remember saying something along the lines of “I’ll miss you.” And she says I won’t have to, because when I come back, she’ll be right there waiting for me, even if she doesn’t remember.

I also quite enjoyed the endings of becoming gods together. While it’s still good, I think arguably the ending I personally don’t like is the Narrator’s want which is slaying the princess at the end.

In terms of individual branching paths, I love the spectre ending where you let the princess possess you as a ghost, the “hey killer” really got to me. The one where she becomes like a demon girl and just wants to fight is really funny until it gets really sad.

I was also cooked from the beginning because my first path when she started to gnaw her arm off, it unnerved me for a few seconds before I was like “well if I was trapped with no way out I’d probably end like this too.” Then the huge puppy dog eyes she has whenever you’re helping her remove her arm.

Overall 10/10 I love this game so much, and having Jonathan sims as all the voices in my head was a real treat. Will get all the achievements eventually!

And the first romance ending was so funny because I hear Archivist Jonathan Sims narrating with a bunch “ews” the whole time. IM SORRY JON IF I MEET AN ENTITY I WILL GREET IT WITH LOVE AND UNDERSTANDING. I know she started to gnaw off her own arm but I get it!!!

[opheliac]

I know what I need but I don't have the relationship or connection with any friends that I can ask them for help and it hurts it hurts I feel so sad and hurt

[solivagantingrebel]

hey guys who wants another round of tmi

[ninkaku]

when i think about the fact that dazai was the one who chose the location of the safe house for oda’s orphans i feel the need to walk into traffic

and then this was just straight up AURA. not to mention that mori is witnessing dazai experience the emotion he needed him to in order to fully calculate his potential as his successor. it’s a no brainer that dazai can lead an organisation but before oda i don’t think mori ever witnessed dazai serve to protect something or do something that didn’t benefit him (mori is a slave to the organisation as much as he is its figurehead as he explains, this shows him that dazai has the full potential he needs him to have. and hence why he keeps his executive seat open without replacement because dazai joining the agency to protect people and thus, the city, only furthers this point for him)

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[dubacheryking]

It seems like you really like the IT book( it 1986), so do you remember Eddie Corcoran’s story from chapter 6. Because like his chapter is for real one of the most heartbreaking chapters in the whole book and he’s like so underrated for no reason. Soooo like what’s your opinions on him and other little interesting thing like that lol.

:)

oh my GOG tbh i think eddie corcoran's death is straight up the most horrifying part of the book. like if u put a gun to my head and said "what part of IT 86 do u find the most stomach churning" THATS IT RIGHT THERE. no one ever really talks abt it by 90% of the fandom on here is movie based and they dont FUCKING include it for some godawful reason (i can understand the 1990 ver not including it specifically for censorship reasons, since it was the 90s and also made for tv and ALSO cut to 3hrs lol) but like. the fact that it wasnt in the movies is criminal tbh.

but i digress.

as for opinions and such regarding the corcoran boy.... i mean, we get next to nothing abt him. what we know is a) his stepdad is an abusive piece of shit b) he had a younger brother that he seemingly cared about deeply (SOBS) c) his pos stepdad killed his baby brother (LIKE ACTUAL BABY. A 4YO???? FR????) d) his death was horrific. theres a little bit more but but but i havent reread that chapter recently so some of it is certainly escaping me. i wish there was more about him as an actual person, but i also understand that w the book already being a billion pages long there is only so much small details that could actually be included, and the history of derry and main story obvs will trump this specific smaller story--but like, fr, i want to know more abt eddie. we know he was terrified of the thing from the black lagoon (fair) and obvs holds a lot of fear and anger and guilt regarding dorsey's death, we know hes abused, we know how he dies. its a weird paradox of being very close to this character (in terms of his pov at the time, being in his head and all just like w any of the main losers) and being extremely removed (we know nothing abt his internal life beyond what his abuse brings out). which. frankly it's somewhat genius bc, yeah, abuse DOES tend to stifle the actual personality/interests of the person being abused and DOES like literally fuck w the brain chemistry and processessing of a child (source: happened to me lolololol), but its also heartbreaking that all we know him as is One of The Missing. he can never be more. its fucked.

soooo . this got away from me. sorry if it makes little to no sense ill just do a small bit on my thoughts summarized HERE:

i wholeheartedly agree that eddie corcoran's death is like. the worst part of the story. listening to it makes me legit sick to my stomach in a way NO OTHER PART OF THE BOOK DOES. LEGIT. and i think the main reason for that is while cosmic horror space clown spider thing is fake, duh, and more obviously used as a stand in for trauma and specifically for childhood trauma and the lasting effects that it has on our psyche, eddie's death is REAL. dorsey's death is REAL. we see, in grusome, up close detail, the actual consequences of abuse and how it destroys people's lives--specifically children's. we see how the complacency of those around such families (eddie's mom, the teachers, the principal, the town of derry at large) contributes to the horrific mistreatment of the most vulnerable, and how NONE OF THEM suffer any consequences for their lack of action. the section ends with eddie's mother getting access to his savings, which amount to less than 20$. to do so, she has to have him legally declared dead, EVEN THOUGH THEY DO NOT HAVE A BODY. AND THAT'S FUCKED. SHE DOESN'T EVEN WANT TO MAKE SURE HE'S FUCKING DEAD BEFORE SHE DOES THIS, DOESN'T WANT THE CLOSURE, DOESN'T WANT TO LAY HIM TO REST, DOESN'T WANT A PLACE TO VISIT. I CAN'T. like obviously we see themes of abuse and neglect in the whole book, that's the whole point, but eddie's story is different. there is no winning. there is no escape. you can't spin it into a better life.

he's a kid, just like any of the losers, but to the universe, he's not 'special,' so his death doesn't matter. he could have been swapped in with any of the other characters--fuck, he literally shares the name of one of them!! and yet he's not, and because of that, he doesn't matter. his death effects no one. the only positive is that it reopens dorsey's case, and even then, the reopening of his brother's death almost entirely sweeps eddie under the rug. the town of derry turns away, and when the truth of dorsey corcoran's death is revealed, the shrug, go so very sad, and wipe their hands of it. just another child death at the hands of an adult monster, just another day.

[nomoretumbler]

just skipped to the miss power special so I could understand a lot better what people were talking about… let me tell you lives were CHANGED.

[hannie-dul-set]

u guys don't understand how much writing nabi gyu hurts me.

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[graciebrams]

🫧

[iwakuraz]

it's not going too well

[skitskatdacat63]

I wish AI images didn't make me so intensely upset. Just the existence of them bothers me a lot, because it's just clutter without meaning or emotion or any genuineness. But recently something happened that made me very upset, and I feel so irrational saying this, but it really gave me this sick, heart-wrenching feeling, and I wish it would stop. My mom was looking through Facebook, and showed me this image of birds that to me was so obviously AI. But she wasn't 100% sure it was fake, only telling me after I had told her it was definitely AI, that she had been a bit unsure about it.

I hate how intense my feelings are about it, bcs it made me want to irrationally almost infantalize her without meaning to. It just made me overwhelmingly sad that this is state of things. That people are being fed this imitation, this trash, and aren't familiar enough to recognize it all the time. Every time I think about it, it hurts my chest.

[kristhekrispy]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH

[uitzinnigmp3]

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