#she’s important in the story but also like

[crystallinestars]

Just Confess Already! Part 2

Drabbles about Genshin men (or you) confessing with the help of a wingman. This is pure fluff.

Characters: Kazuha, Kinich, Ororon, Wanderer, and Cyno.

Part 1 here.

I apologize if the endings sound abrupt, I've edited and rewritten this many times, and at this point I just want to get this finally posted. I also apologize for the length, my writing style has changed since part 1.

🍁 Kazuha

Everyone and their mother at The Crux could tell you and Kazuha had a thing for each other. The way you guys spent most of your free time in each other’s company discussing poetry or music, the way Kazuha always volunteered to help you with your tasks, how you took care of Kazuha when he got drunk, and just the overall subtle romantic tension about your pair tipped off pretty much everyone.

Though Beidou didn’t want to pry into the love lives of her crew, she’d sometimes catch glimpses of you and Kazuha chatting up in the crow’s nest of the ship and noted that the way you smiled at each other was endearing. Otherwise, she paid little attention to it, thinking it was only a matter of time until one of you confessed and you guys became an official couple.

However, that time never came. The two of you pussyfooted around the topic of laying bare your feelings, and everyone at The Crux was getting a little annoyed that you were stuck in the pining phase. There was a limit to how long Beidou could tolerate watching you give each other pining glances without snapping and telling you two to get together already.

One time when you were out on an errand, Beidou and her crew invited Kazuha for a drink. The friendly and cheerful atmosphere prompted some members to share their life stories, and the topic breached romance. Someone asked Kazuha why he hadn’t confessed to you yet, and the drunken ronin answered that he treasured your friendship and didn’t want to jeopardize it in case you didn’t feel the same way.

Beidou could only scoff at his excuse. It was so obvious that you liked him back, and since when was Kazuha such a coward? He could go up against the Raiden Shogun’s deadly Musou no Hitotachi, but had his tail between his legs at the prospect of admitting he loved you to your face? Preposterous! Moreover, she had to tell her crew to settle down because they were creating a spectacle out of your crushes on each other and making bets on which one of you would confess first (she betted on you).

If Kazuha was too much of a coward, Beidou thought, then maybe you’d be braver.

That same evening, she happened to find you alone in your cabin and took the opportunity to bring up the issue of your longtime crush on Kazuha. Though she was no expert on romance, Beidou wanted to help you. She got you to open up and confide in her, patiently listening while you expressed your fears about confessing to Kazuha. You also didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him, so Beidou stated outright that he returned your feelings. If you didn’t believe her, then see for yourself.

With that, she pried open a window in the cabin. Over the gentle lapping of the waves, you heard the crew’s laughter up on the deck, and the faint sound of Kazuha’s familiar voice. It was a little difficult to hear what he was saying over the crew’s chatter, and his speech was slightly slurred, but you made out a few words. He frequently spoke your name while reciting a few clumsy haikus. But they weren’t just any random poems about the sea or sky—they were love haikus.

Beidou patted your shoulder and told you to have courage instead of wasting your life wondering about what-ifs and regretting not doing anything.

Over the following days, Beidou sent you and Kazuha out on joint errands in Liyue Harbour. The errands themselves weren’t all that important, but they served as good excuses to give you two some alone time. Kazuha was no fool and quickly deduced that Beidou was setting you two up on purpose, but he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to spend more time with you.

Beidou hoped something would finally change by the time you returned, and sure enough, when she spotted you and Kazuha walking back to the ship, she smiled. The two of you were holding hands and smiling warmly at each other, a good sign that your once-suppressed feelings were now in the open. Naturally, the rest of the crew noticed the change as well and grew excited when you confirmed that you and Kazuha were now in a romantic relationship.

That night, they brought out the good wine and food to congratulate you and Kazuha on finally getting together. Most of the Crux’s crew joined on the festivities, with some members being nosy and asking you for details on how it happened and who confessed first.

When you admitted to confessing first, Beidou smugly accepted her winnings and took a big swig of her drink before yelling out a cheer. Her crew followed suit in toasting and cheering much to your and Kazuha’s embarrassment, but it was all in good fun. Beidou made sure to make it up to you by distracting the crew with a drinking game and sending you a wink as she allowed you and Kazuha to make a quiet escape from the party. The Crux gang would have plenty of time to tease you in the future—for now, you and Kazuha deserved to enjoy this newfound relationship without others poking their noses where they don’t belong. Beidou would make sure of it.

🟩 Kinich

Kinich’s relationship with you perplexed K’uhul Ajaw. The Almighty Dragonlord couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but something between you two changed. Recently, Kinich had been giving you discounts whenever you asked for his help, and sometimes even did things for you for free. Kinich the Malipo giving someone special treatment? Unheard of! And on top of all that, his servant had been visiting you more frequently during downtime, and there was also that strange glint in Kinich’s eyes whenever he looked at you, something akin to endearment—

Oh.

Kinich liked you.

Oh, this was going to be good!

Ajaw’s diabolical nature wouldn’t let him keep Kinich’s feelings for you a secret. The next time you came to hang out with their duo, the saurian waved his little stubby arms and ran his mouth as soon as you were within earshot. “Hey, human! Our lowly servant has developed romantic feelings for you like some sort of prepubescent schoolboy! Isn’t that a riot?” and cackled, thinking Kinich would be thoroughly humiliated and put in his place.

To Ajaw’s dismay, instead of looking disgusted by the news, you appeared… hopeful? A tad surprised by his outburst, but was that hope shining in your eyes? To Ajaw’s even greater dismay, Kinich lacked any sort of outward reaction to having his crush on you vocalized so brazenly. Instead, the saurian hunter told you to ignore Ajaw’s nonsensical words in his usual calm manner, before smacking the pixelated menace away for a timeout. Right before he got locked away, Ajaw managed to catch a glimpse of disappointment in your eyes when Kinich brushed the situation aside as if it were nothing.

That day, K’uhul Ajaw realized that Kinich’s feelings were not one-sided like he originally thought. You liked Kinich too. The mere thought of you two acting all lovey-dovey with each other was sickening, but the saurian figured poking fun at you and Kinich would be a good source of entertainment.

After that day, Ajaw became even more insufferable. Every chance he got, he’d swoop in with a taunting remark and make fun either you, Kinich, or both.

One time while accompanying Kinich through a dense forest, you slipped on a wet tree root and were sent falling towards the ground. However, Kinich swiftly caught you and pulled you to his chest to help stabilize you. Ajaw had a field day laughing and crowing about how scandalous you were for practically throwing yourself at Kinich like that. Were you that desperate to be in his arms? Disgusting!

The saurian also used every opportunity he could find to reveal all of Kinich’s secrets to you. Did you know Kinich gave you special treatment? No? Are you blind?! Can’t you tell he does stuff for you for free? Why do you think he brings you game and wild berries free of charge every once in a while--to show off how good he is at hunting?! Have you at least noticed Kinich smiled more and acted softer towards you, or are you really that blind? He doesn’t treat anyone else that way, you know! …And so on and so forth, though most of his attempts to out Kinich are interrupted by the man himself locking Ajaw away before the dragon reveals too much.

As fun as it was to watch your pair’s awkward attempts at showing signs of affection for each other, Ajaw eventually grew frustrated with standing witness to the mutual pining that never progressed anywhere. It made the little saurian’s blood boil with annoyance.

Whenever he and Kinich were alone, Ajaw would complain that the hunter should stop being a dimwit and a coward and just confess to you already! How could he not see that you obviously liked him back?! Seriously, how bad was his luck to end up with such an imbecile for a servant?!

Kinich coolly rejected Ajaw’s insistence for confessing his feelings. It was not in his nature to recklessly rush into the unknown—he needed to carefully analyze and weigh his options before coming to a sound decision. As such, his relationship with you was not to be rushed. This didn’t sit well with Ajaw, but no matter what he said, Kinich stubbornly refused to listen.

The Dragonlord’s patience reached a breaking point during one fateful day. It was getting dark, and Kinich had offered to escort you home. Once you were safely at your doorstep, you made the bold move of kissing Kinich’s cheek in thanks. For a split moment, Ajaw swore there was palpable romantic tension between you as your and Kinich’s eyes met (gross). Kinich glanced at your lips, looking as if he wanted to lean in and kiss you (doubly gross) and Ajaw prepared himself to make disgusted gagging noises, except… nothing happened. With a seldom seen blush on his cheeks, Kinich awkwardly cleared his throat and bid you goodnight, preparing to leave.

Ajaw exploded.

“This is painful to watch! You two were clearly made for each other—both equally cowardly and blind to each other’s feelings! Just admit you like each other already; you’re not fooling anyone! Kinich, you cowardly, brainless, insufferable insect—just lean in for that kiss, you obviously want to! And you! Stop waffling and just spit out that you like Kinich already! Agh, watching you two is torture! What did the great K’uhul Ajaw do to deserve this fate?!” he yelled, turning red in the face.

Kinich promptly locked Ajaw away, for which the saurian would later chew him out once he was free, but not before interrogating you and the hunter about whether you finally confessed. Once Kinich revealed that yes, you had talked it out and admitted your mutual feelings for each other and were now in a relationship, Ajaw could finally feel some sense of peace regarding the situation.

Feeling proud of his contributions, Ajaw puffed out his chest and told you and Kinich to pucker up and kiss his feet in worship, for only with the help of the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw has your relationship progressed instead of stagnating like swamp water.

Though the saurian relic continued to be an annoyance, even Kinich had to admit that Ajaw played a part in getting you together. Though not in the form of worship or foot kissing, Kinich did repay the favor by procuring some quenepa berries and other fruits that Ajaw liked, hosting a small feast as a thank you. Though Ajaw complained about being scammed, the snacks did the trick of improving his mood and keeping him occupied while you and Kinich had some precious time to yourselves.

🦇 Ororon

Ever since you and Ororon were children, Citlali observed that the two of you got along well. So well, in fact, that Ororon had developed a little crush on you. He would pluck flowers from a nearby meadow to give you, follow you around like a loyal puppy, and one time, Ororon told Citlali that he hoped to marry you one day.

Citlali couldn’t help but find Ororon’s crush on you adorable, and a part of her anticipated the day when you both grew up and got married. She had no doubt you would make the sweetest couple among the Masters of the Night-Wind.

Ororon’s attraction to you persisted into adulthood. At that point, Citlali could no longer call it a cute little crush— “Love” was a more apt description for how Ororon felt towards you, even if he tried to hide the depth of his attachment to you. He was content to stay as just your friend and not risk ruining the close bond you had in case you didn’t return his feelings. Citlali was a little frustrated that Ororon continued to pine for you without doing anything about it, but she knew better than to force the stubborn boy to do something he didn’t want to. If you were both happy with the way things were, then why change them?

However, during one of her rare trips to the market for some divination supplies, Citlali overheard a conversation between two tribespeople. The topic of conversation was about love, and one of the men bashfully admitted that he thought you were pretty and that he hoped to ask you out on a date soon. This news washed over Citlali like a bucket of cold water as worry seized her heart.

This wasn’t the first time others had expressed romantic interest in you. After all, you’ve always had a bit of a reputation among the Masters of the Night-Wind for being attractive, so it wasn’t surprising others had an eye on you. However, now that you were an independent adult, it wouldn’t be strange for you to look for a partner to settle down with, right? Knowing Ororon, the dimwit wouldn’t ever think to confess, and what if someone else confessed before he did and stole your heart?

Citlali didn’t want to force you to choose Ororon, but she didn’t want things to end without her beloved grandson at least taking a shot at winning you over. The last thing she wanted was for Ororon to be left heartbroken and disappointed all because he let the chance to be with you slip from his fingers.

With these troubled thoughts, Citlali sought out Ororon and announced that he needed to stop dawdling and actively pursue you unless he wanted to watch your heart get stolen by somebody else. Citlali’s sudden proclamation confused Ororon, so she explained that he’s not the only one who is in love with you and that there’s a risk of you choosing someone else to spend your life with.

As she expected, Ororon stubbornly refused to go along with her urging, saying that who you wanted to end up with was your choice and he would respect it. Though he said that, Citlali could see it on Ororon’s face that the mere thought of you falling for someone else hurt him, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for her grandson.

After much convincing and reassurance, Citlali got Ororon to agree to court you and promised to come up with a plan to help him in this endeavour. There was, however, one major problem: how were two socially awkward outcasts supposed to win someone’s heart? Having never been courted herself, Citlali had no past experiences to draw from when designing her plan, but it shouldn’t be too hard, right? She’d read a lot of romance novels imported from Inazuma, so maybe if she got Ororon to do some of the same things the male leads did, then it would curry your favour? Regardless, it was worth a shot.

The plan was for Ororon to prove his worth as a suitable partner by giving you gifts, compliments, and always being there for you no matter what it was. In Ororon’s opinion, he was already doing all of these things for you as a friend, but Citlali insisted that his actions needed to be infused with romance to distinguish them from gestures of friendship. Her grandson was still reluctant to actively court you, but he had promised to try and try he did. Except, his approach subverted Citlali’s expectations.

When it came to giving gifts, instead of presenting jewellery, woven scrolls, or useful gadgets, the young man gifted you game he had caught in the wild and the best selection of produce from his garden. Citlali could only facepalm when Ororon told her which gifts he planned to give you, but she also knew he put genuine thought into them. Ororon handpicked the nicest veggies he could find in his garden and personally delivered them to your doorstep instead of sending Ifa like he normally would. Citlali told him that giving gifts in person held more meaning, and Ororon appeared to have taken her words to heart.

Ororon also gifted you flowers much like he did when you were little. However, this time he didn’t give you flowers plucked from the wild. Instead, he gifted you potted plants that he had also grown in his garden. “They will live and look pretty for longer,” he told you, then received a flick to the forehead once Citlali found out what he did.

His compliments were no better. Saying things like his vegetables grew better whenever you visited his home and spoke to his plants or your presence being calming for the aphids, was the best Ororon could do. Citlali admonished him for these strange compliments, but to Ororon, that was the highest praise anyone could receive. After all, you were an amazing person, and even his plants and aphids sensed it.

Ororon’s courtship was unconventional to say the least, and granny Itztli worried whether her grandson made a favorable impression on you. To help improve Ororon’s image in your eyes, Citlali sought you out more often to put in a good word for her grandson and get you to see him as a man. She highlighted Ororon’s good points to you, commenting how Ororon is a bit peculiar, but he’s also kind, resourceful, accepting, gentle, and so much more. A truly good kid. He would make an excellent romantic partner, wouldn’t you agree?

Her pushiness flustered you, but it also allowed Citlali to gauge how you felt about Ororon, and she had to contain her excitement when she pieced together that you loved him back. In her giddiness, she urged Ororon to confess.

When the day of the confession came, Citlali hid among some trees while keeping an eye on you and Ororon. She didn’t intent to spy, but the anxiety over how the confession would go made her antsy and she couldn’t sit still at home. She watched as Ororon offered you a basket of his finest produce and finally professed his love. The confession came out awkward because he tried to recite what he practiced with Citlali a few days prior, and he seemed to realize this because Ororon then took your hand and placed it against his chest. Using his own words this time, Ororon explained that he genuinely did love you, and the racing of his heart should be proof enough that you were more than just a friend in his eyes. However, it was alright if you didn’t feel the same way about him.

Citlali had to clamp her hands over her mouth to hold back from squealing in giddiness as she watched you reciprocate Ororon’s feelings. She would later apologize for spying since she knew it was wrong, but it filled her with joy to witness the blossoming of love between you. In some ways, this was better than any romance novel she had read in all her years of living, and it warmed her heart to see you both so happy.

Even if it was a childhood fantasy, perhaps Ororon’s wish of marrying you was not that far off now? Citlali certainly hoped so.

☂️ Wanderer

Nahida was no expert on romance, but she had observed enough couples during her 500-year-long imprisonment to know what romantic attraction looked like. The strange air surrounding you and Wanderer must have been that, she speculated, as she watched Wanderer hand you a box of your favorite foods with the flimsy excuse of having made too much. For your part, you seemed genuinely touched by the gesture despite Wanderer’s grumbling, much to Nahida’s delight. Wanderer’s prickly personality pushed some people away, but not you. You stayed by his side and gave him the companionship he needed, helping Wanderer open up and heal from his trauma.

It was clear you deeply cared for the young man, and a little peek into your mind confirmed to Nahida that yes, you did love him romantically. She couldn’t read Wanderer’s mind since he blocked all her attempts to do so, but she didn’t need mindreading to conclude that he loved you too.

When she next spoke with Wanderer, she carefully asked if he loved you. Wanderer’s response was a gruff “No” and “Stop asking”, however Nahida could tell he wasn’t being honest with his feelings. If he didn’t love you, then why did he treat you differently compared to everyone else? His manner of speech is gentler when with you, and despite all his grumbling he still complies with all your requests no matter how irritating he may find them. Not to mention, he spends most of his free time in your company, goes out of his way to make you little gifts and cook your favorite dishes. Surely all these behaviours were proof that you were someone special to him?

Being effectively cornered, the puppet had no choice except to come clean about his hidden feelings. With scowl and a blush on his cheeks, Wanderer reluctantly admitted that yes, he likes you, but it was none of Nahida’s business and she’d better stay out of it.

Despite Wanderer’s warning, the Dendro Archon wanted to help get you together. She felt confident that if both of you put in a little effort, a beautiful romance could blossom between you. Still, she didn’t want to outright reveal your feelings for each other. She believed that each of you should relay these intimate feelings yourselves. All Nahida would do is give you a gentle nudge in the right direction.

To help her with this task, Nahida sought help from a few Aranara and asked them to keep an eye on you and Wanderer and report any meaningful details that could help her bring you together. Through her little helpers, Nahida learned the full extent of Wanderer’s affections for you, and she couldn’t help but smile at how sweet he was, especially when it came to you.

Using this acquired knowledge, the Dendro Archon frequently brought up Wanderer in your conversations with her to explain the thoughtfulness behind some of his gifts and words. For as frank as he usually was with people, Wanderer was more close-lipped about the true extent of his feelings, so Nahida had some work cut out for her in making you realize how much he truly cared about you.

For example, the next time Wanderer gave you your favorite food with the excuse that he’d made too much, Nahida revealed to you that he actually spent several days perfecting the recipe before finally giving the dish to you.

That hand-made bracelet he gifted you, saying he got it for free during an arts and crafts event he visited? Wanderer actually made it himself during that event and used beads of your favorite colors. The Aranara watched him spend a lot of time crafting that bracelet with the greatest care, but Nahida left that part out.

In addition, she would subtly drop hints for you to invite Wanderer to hang out more often. For example, the Zubayr Theater was hosting a play and Nahida heard there was a discount if you bought two tickets. Why don’t you go and invite Wanderer to come with you?

As for Wanderer, she discreetly told him that you once mentioned wanting to try out a new drink at Puspa Cafe but had nobody to go with, so why not be a good friend and take you there himself? Wanderer initially objected, but ultimately caved in and invited you to the Café while commenting that a certain annoying sprout said you wanted to try a new drink there, though deep down he glad for the opportunity to spend more time with you. Nahida could tell by the way Wanderer went out of his way to spoil you that day, buying you anything you wanted and keeping you company until the sun set.

Little by little, Nahida softened Wanderer towards the possibility of being in a romantic relationship with you, and helped you gather the courage to confess. Wanderer was unlikely to ever confess first, so the responsibility rested on your shoulders. She could tell you were nervous about laying bare your feelings, but she reassured you that things would go well. You only needed to take that leap of faith.

When you finally confessed, Nahida and the Aranara secretly observed the scene from behind a nearby corner, curious to see how things would go while also quietly cheering you on (not that you knew). When a flustered Wanderer accepted your confession, Nahida was overjoyed. She had fun guiding both of you towards this moment, but the satisfaction of knowing you could finally be together the way you always wished was rewarding in its own way. Even when Wanderer later confronted her about spying on you during your confession and scolded her for it, the little Archon’s happiness didn’t wane. She looked forward to seeing what your newfound relationship would blossom into, and had no doubt it would be something beautiful and pure, just like your love for each other.

👁️‍🗨️ Cyno

It was no secret to Tighnari that you and Cyno liked each other. He had known about your mutual crushes as far back as your student days at the Akademiya where you first met. You became fast friends with him and Cyno, but Tighnari couldn’t help but think Cyno was a bit more special to you than you let on. After all, you were one of the few who wasn’t intimidated by Cyno’s perpetual stern facial expressions and actively sought him out, and who actually laughed at his lame jokes.

Tighnari also knew about Cyno’s crush on you since his friend confided about it to him. Not that Cyno needed to say anything because Tighnari could see his attraction to you clear as day. Cyno’s eyes lit up whenever he saw you in the distance, he tried to act “cooler” in your presence in an attempt to impress you, and Tighnari swore that if Cyno had a tail, it would have wagged like a dog’s every time you laughed at his jokes.

Though he knew about your mutual romantic attraction to each other, Tighnari didn’t want to stick his nose into your love lives. He figured you guys would resolve everything yourselves in due time.

However, nothing changed even after you guys graduated. Your group remained close friends and saw each other regularly, but Tighnari was starting to lose his patience with how you and Cyno hopelessly pined for each other. He had already lost count of the number of times each of you came to him for advice on how to win the other over.

Cyno asked Tighnari’s opinion on a lot of things: Would you like his newest joke? Would you be okay with Cyno volunteering to be your bodyguard for your upcoming desert excursion? Which of his limited edition TCG cards best represented you? Cyno wanted to express how much you meant to him by giving you a card that reminded him of you.

You were no better. Tighnari had lost count of the number of times you approached him with questions about Cyno’s work schedule. Your excuse was that you wanted to plan hangouts with him, Collei, and Cyno during their days off, but Tighnari knew there was another reason why you asked about Cyno’s schedule in particular. He had half a mind to tell you to ask Cyno yourself because it was obvious that you just wanted to spend more time with the General Mahamatra. You also pestered Tighnari with questions about Cyno’s TCG deck. Much like his friend, you wanted to express your appreciation for Cyno by giving him cards he didn’t have yet.

Seriously, you two were a match made in heaven…

Tighnari would have found your mutual crushes on each other endearing, if only he wasn’t stuck being the middleman. As it stood, Tighnari wanted nothing more than to throttle both of you for pussyfooting around your feelings and getting him caught up in being your messenger. He was on the brink of snapping and sitting you both down to explain that your feelings were mutual, so just hurry up and get together already.

That’s why the next time Cyno approached him with another question about you, Tighnari took the opportunity to convince his friend to confess. He and Collei assured Cyno that you liked him a lot, and urged him to tell you his feelings. Cyno was hesitant but did seem to want some closure about whether you liked him back or not, so Tighnari gave him an incentive. How about the next time he played TCG with you, you guys set some stakes? Why not have a rule that the loser must tell the winner a secret? If Cyno lost, he would have to confess.

Cyno wasn’t fond of the idea initially, but agreed after some contemplation, acknowledging that this method would be effective in giving him that necessary push. Still, Tighnari could tell Cyno was nervous about confessing, so he volunteered to come along as moral support, much to Cyno’s gratitude.

That was how Tighnari and Collei found themselves at Puspa Cafe, sitting a few tables away from you and Cyno, hidden from your line of sight. Tighnari tutored Collei while Cyno played that fateful round of TCG against you, but the Forest Ranger kept a close eye on his friend. Though he didn’t want to get too invested in Cyno’s love life, even he couldn’t help but grow anxious as he watched the TCG match end with Cyno’s loss.

Although Tighnari was too far away to hear what Cyno was saying, he could tell the moment of confession had come. Now, the ball was in your court.

You looked stunned by whatever Cyno said, but soon smiled and said something that made Cyno mirror the happy expression on your face and reach out to hold your hand. Though he couldn’t hear, Tighnari knew you had reciprocated his feelings. Even Collei quietly fawned over how cute you both looked. It had been a long journey, but he was truly happy for his friend. Out of everyone, Cyno was happiest with you, and Tighnari hoped you would continue to make him happy for many years to come.

With everything ending well, Tighnari beckoned Collei and discreetly left the cafe before you or Cyno noticed. As happy as he was for you guys, he dreaded the possibility of Cyno coercing them into a TCG match. With how elated his friend must be right now, it was only a matter of time until Cyno called him and Collei over for a new game to celebrate you accepting his feelings. In Tighnari’s opinion, you guys deserved to have some proper time to yourselves to explore your feelings and new relationship without him and Collei serving as thirdwheels. That, and he just really didn’t want to sit through another hour of watching Cyno show off for you.

[o-wild-west-wind]

While I’m still a bit bummed that they didn’t go with a more book-aligned POC Fiyero for the Wicked movie, I’ve been thinking (heheh) about how his being white highlights the really interesting foil relationship between him and Glinda (and, in many ways, the audience yourself).

At its core, Wicked is a cautionary tale about propaganda, (literal) scapegoating, and what it means to uphold the status quo. The audience is watching through Glinda’s eyes—it is through her, arguably the most beautifully tragic character of the show, that we learn how lonely life becomes when you forfeit your values in favor of systemic power and likability (“No One Mourns the Wicked” is, in many ways, about HER).

Now, this is where Fiyero’s whiteness can get interesting—if you consider him and Glinda to share roughly equal footing at the beginning in terms of privilege/how much they have to lose (applying our real-world lens of race and power here, where whiteness is the apex), his storyline essentially represents what could have happened if Glinda had made the brave (and arguably wise and loving, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down 👀) choice to go with Elphaba and fight the good fight (this is also why I feel like a queer reading of G&E’s relationship is almost implicit to the story, but I digress).

As the POC/marginalized allegory, Elphaba has much less of a real choice in her curtain-pulled-back turning point. But Fiyero and Glinda—both representing privilege—get to choose. So in Act II, we see the consequences of both the choice to stay (Glinda) and to go (Fiyero). In Fiyero’s case, his ultimate rejection of his own power, privilege, and even beauty leads to immense physical loss—including his own body—but that is then compared to the loss of love, community, and identity that we see Glinda left with by the end. And this brings us to the question that the audience is left grappling with: in an unjust system where loss is inevitable (a.k.a. our own world, as the Wizard himself represents), which of these things are YOU more willing to give up?

It’s important that Glinda is an empathetic character because, in reality, most people are going to be Glindas (obvi this is nuanced among us Elphabas of marginalized identities, but I’d still argue that there’s some level of Glinda in us all)—and it’s important to be rattled by the end of the show when you realize that she is the one who has the sad ending. But it’s also so important that Fiyero is empathetic (which I’m SO glad this movie leaned into)—because he’s ultimately who Glinda—and thus we, as the audience—should have been.

And especially given the state of US politics right now…this is just all more relevant than ever.

[capquinn]

can we get a blurb about quinn telling his parents he’s gonna be a dad, pretty pretty please???? i feel like he’d be nervous to tell them but also bursting at the seams wanting them to know. it’s probably hard for him being so far away for most of the year, that he wants them to be involved as much as they can, but he’d also want to respect his partner’s wishes if she wanted to wait to tell people until she was further along in case something happened

The decision about when to tell Quinn’s family about the baby over Thanksgiving weekend had been made weeks ago, but actually doing it was proving to be a whole different story.

For Quinn, the excitement of telling them had been almost overwhelming at first, a buzz of energy thrumming beneath his skin every time he thought about the moment. He could picture their reactions so clearly: Ellen’s face lighting up with joy and then tears, Jim’s steady pride breaking into a wide grin. He’d played it over in his mind again and again, letting the thought carry him through the quiet moments of doubt.

But now, as the reality of actually saying the words settled in, the nerves crept in too. It wasn’t that he doubted their reaction — they would be thrilled, he knew that. They adored him, a love larger than life itself, their pride woven into every word they spoke about him. A love so steadfast it felt unshakable. And over the years, that same love had effortlessly extended to you, not just welcoming you into their family but embracing you as if you’d always been a part of it.

However, the weight of the moment, of what it symbolised, suddenly felt heavier. This wasn’t just a fleeting piece of good news to share. It was life-changing, not just for him and you, but for them as well. They were about to become grandparents, stepping into a new chapter of their lives, and he couldn’t shake the pressure of wanting the moment to be perfect.

The confidence he’d carried on the flight home for the weekend was slipping, giving way to a swirl of emotions he couldn’t quite name. He’d been eager, almost impatient, to share the news, to feel the weight of it lifted and replaced with their joy, their pride, their unwavering support. He wanted them to share in the excitement, to feel connected to this life-changing moment despite the physical miles that often separate them. He needed them to know that their place in this new chapter, as grandparents, was as important to him as the one he was stepping into.

But now, standing on the brink of saying it aloud, a sudden wave of nerves hit him, sharp and unexpected. The enormity of it all — the love, the hope, the vulnerability wrapped in the words — made his throat tighten.

It wasn’t just an announcement. It was a shift, one that would ripple out and reshape everything. Parenthood, after all, was still something the two of you were learning to grasp.

The first evening back home unfolded in the warm glow of Ellen’s kitchen, the scent of roast chicken and fresh-baked bread filling the air. The house alive with warmth — the crackle of the fireplace, the low hum of laughter, and the familiar cadence of Jim’s voice as he spun a tale about the neighbour’s runaway tractor. He gestured animatedly, earning chuckles and interjections from Ellen, who corrected him at every exaggerated turn. It’s a familiar, comforting scene — the kind of moment Quinn usually soaks in without a second thought.

But tonight, his mind is a thousand miles away.

You can feel the tension humming beneath his relaxed posture, the subtle way his fingers tighten around yours every few minutes, like he’s trying to ground himself. His gaze keeps darting to his parents — catching the glint of Ellen’s wedding band as she leans forward in her chair, the crinkle of Jim’s eyes as he laughs at his own joke.

He wants to tell them. You can see it in the way his lips press together, his chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate breath as though he’s rehearsing the words in his head.

We’re having a baby.

It’s right there, sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the perfect moment. 

Quinn shifts in his seat, his free hand sliding up to rub the back of his neck as he leans forward slightly. You can feel the faint tremor in his grip as he laces his fingers tighter with yours, like he’s steadying himself for something big.

Jim’s voice carries on in the background, the rich cadence of his story weaving effortlessly with Ellen’s laughter, but Quinn’s focus isn’t there anymore. His gaze is fixed on the table, the firelight catching in his eyes as he takes a deep, deliberate breath.

You recognise the signs immediately. The way his shoulders draw back just slightly, the faint movement of his lips like he’s practicing the words in his head. It’s coming — you can feel it in the subtle shift of his energy, the way his knee bounces once under the table before he stills it with a hand.

He glances at you, and in the flicker of his gaze, you see everything — the love, the nerves, the overwhelming weight of what he wants to say. 

Your expression softens, and you give his hand a gentle squeeze, a quiet I’m here. You’ve got this.

Quinn swallows, his throat working against the knot of emotion rising there. 

“So, uh,” he starts, his voice low and hesitant, barely cutting through the warmth of the room.

Ellen turns toward him, her smile easy and expectant, and Jim sets his drink down, his brows lifting in quiet curiosity.

It’s right there. The words are sitting at the edge of his lips, just waiting to fall out. We’re having a baby.

But they don’t.

Quinn falters, his mouth opening slightly before he closes it again, his jaw tightening as he drops his gaze to his lap. His hand squeezes yours, and the quiet pressure feels like an apology.

Ellen’s eyes flit between the two of you, a flicker of concern crossing her face. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” she asks gently, her voice laced with the kind of maternal intuition that always catches him off guard.

He looks up at her, his lips curving into a faint, practiced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Nothing,” he says softly, shaking his head. “Just... it’s good to be home. That’s all.”

You watch as Ellen’s concern melts into warmth, her smile returning as she reaches over to squeeze his arm affectionately. 

“Well, we’re glad you’re here, too,” she says simply, her love for him evident in every word.

Quinn nods, his gaze falling back to his lap, and you can see the frustration flickering just beneath the surface. He’s upset with himself — not because he doesn’t want to tell them, but because he does. Desperately. He just… can’t.

You lean into him slightly, your shoulder brushing his, and when he looks at you, you offer the smallest smile. He exhales slowly, his grip on your hand relaxing just a bit, and when Jim launches into another story, the tension eases from Quinn’s shoulders — if only for a moment.

The second opportunity comes the next morning, when the day feels impossibly slow and golden, like it’s giving Quinn every chance in the world to speak up. The two of you lie in bed longer than usual, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains as you talk quietly, voices still hushed with sleep.

“We can’t leave without telling them,” Quinn says suddenly, his voice quiet but resolute, like the realisation is finally settling in. His gaze is fixed somewhere on the ceiling, his brow furrowed in thought, the weight of his words pulling his shoulders just a little tighter. “I just… I want to do it right, you know?”

“I get it,” you reply, turning your head to look at him. His profile is soft in the morning light, his jaw flexing slightly as he wrestles with the thought. “You want it to feel special.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his lips twitching into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “Exactly. And every time I think about actually saying it, I freeze. Like, what if I screw it up and it’s not as perfect as I want it to be?”

You can’t help the way your heart squeezes a little at the vulnerability in his voice, the honesty of it catching you off guard in the best way. Sliding a little closer, you prop yourself up on one elbow, your hand brushing lightly against his arm. The movement pulls his attention, and for a moment, his eyes flicker to yours before settling back on the ceiling.

“Quinn,” you say softly, your voice laced with affection, “they’re going to love it. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be you.”

He doesn’t respond right away, the words settling over him like a quiet balm. His jaw flexes again as he chews on your reassurance, his hand absently dropping to your abdomen. It’s such a natural gesture, like he doesn’t even realise he’s done it, his palm curving gently over the barely-there swell. 

The corners of his lips twitch, like he’s debating whether to believe you. Then he lets out a soft laugh, low and self-deprecating, his free hand coming up to rake through his already-messy hair.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is easy,” you insist, squeezing his arm lightly, your gaze steady on him. “It’s you, Quinn. They’re going to be over the moon no matter how or when you tell them.”

His eyes flick to yours then, something unspoken passing between you — a quiet thank you, maybe, or just an acknowledgment that he’s holding onto your words a little tighter than he lets on. His thumb brushes a slow, thoughtful circle against your skin, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders ease, if only just a little.

“Don’t worry, you’ll tell them today,” you murmur. There’s a quiet encouragement in your voice, a steady belief that seems to seep right into him. Your fingers trace lazy circles over the back of his hand where it rests on your belly.

Quinn nods, his lips twitching into a small, tentative smile. It’s not the full-blown confidence he probably wishes he had, but it’s something — a flicker of determination breaking through the haze of nerves.

“Yeah,” he says softly, the single word carrying more resolve than hesitation. “I will.”

He sounds ready. You believe him. So does he.

And so the morning unfolds beautifully. Ellen, with her usual warmth and efficiency, packs coffee and snacks into a little canvas bag, insisting with a bright smile that everyone take advantage of the clear weather to walk the trails. There’s a lightness to her tone, a sense of simple joy that seems to catch on everyone as they prepare to head out.

Out in the forest, the world feels peaceful, quiet but alive. The rustle of leaves underfoot mingles with the occasional chirp of a bird or the soft swish of wind through the trees. The trail is dappled with sunlight, patches of golden light breaking through the canopy above. Quinn walks beside you, his shoulder bumping yours every now and then as the two of you amble along.

He’s quiet at first, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, but there’s a softness to him that doesn’t feel like nervousness — it feels like he’s soaking it all in. The crisp air, the sound of his parents chatting a few paces ahead, the steady rhythm of your steps beside him.

“You good?” you ask softly, nudging him with your elbow. Your breath fogs slightly in the cool air, and he glances over at you, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low but steady. And for a while, it feels like he means it.

At the overlook at the end of the trail that feels perfect, too. The sunlight glints off the trees, the breeze is cool and gentle, and his parents are close, their laughter light as Ellen unpacks the thermos of coffee. You can feel the moment hanging there, just waiting for Quinn to take it.

He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles. You glance up at him, catching the way his jaw tightens just slightly, his lips pressing together like he’s rehearsing the words in his head.

“Now’s a good time,” you say softly, tilting your head toward him. Your voice is quiet, meant just for him, but there’s an encouragement in it that you hope will nudge him past whatever’s holding him back.

Quinn nods, his shoulders straightening a little as he draws in a breath. 

His gaze flicks over to his parents, who are standing a few feet away, cups of steaming coffee in their hands as they admire the view. They’re relaxed, happy. Completely unsuspecting.

For a moment, it feels like he’s going to do it. He takes a step forward, clearing his throat softly, and both Ellen and Jim glance over at him. 

“What is it, Quinn?” Ellen asks, her voice warm, a smile playing on her lips.

You watch as Quinn’s hand flexes at his side, his fingers twitching like he’s trying to grab hold of the words before they slip away. 

“I—” he starts, but then his gaze falters, dropping to the ground for a fraction of a second. He hesitates, just long enough for the nerves to creep in.

Jim’s brow lifts slightly, his smile curious. “Everything okay?”

Quinn freezes, his jaw working as if he’s wrestling with the weight of the moment. You see the exact second he decides against it — the subtle shift in his stance, the way his eyes dart back to the view like he’s searching for an escape.

“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice low but steady. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

There’s a beat of quiet, and then Ellen laughs lightly, her attention shifting back to her cup. 

“Good,” she says, clearly not noticing the undercurrent of tension. “Come have some coffee before it gets cold.”

Jim watches Quinn for a second longer, his gaze thoughtful, but he doesn’t press. He just claps a hand on Quinn’s shoulder as he passes, squeezing lightly. 

Quinn exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging just slightly as he turns back to you. His lips twitch into a faint, sheepish smile, and he shrugs like he’s trying to laugh it off. But you know him too well to buy it.

You don’t say anything, just lean into his side a little, the warmth of him grounding in a way words wouldn’t be.

“Just… not yet,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost like he’s saying it to himself more than to you.

You nod, giving his hand another squeeze, a quiet reassurance passing between you. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice just as soft. “You’ll know when the time’s right.”

He breathes out slowly, his gaze flickering back to the view for a moment before settling on his parents again. And even though the moment passes, and the group begins to move again, their laughter breaking through the quiet hum of the forest, you can feel it. The way his hand tightens slightly around yours. The way his shoulders stay just a little too tense as you walk.

He’s still building up to it, you know that. But he’s getting closer.

Back at the house, the moment arises again, this time while everyone is lounging in the living room after lunch. Quinn sits beside you on the couch, one hand cradling his coffee mug, the other resting on your thigh. His parents are across from you, their chairs pulled close to the fire, and the warmth of the room feels almost tangible, a gentle weight of familiarity and love.

He’s relaxed now, leaning back into the cushions, his gaze sweeping over the room like he’s soaking it all in. His hand tightens slightly on your leg, and you glance at him, catching the way his eyes flicker with something you recognise — nerves, anticipation, resolve.

Ellen catches his eye and smiles, tilting her head slightly. “What’s on your mind, Quinn? You’ve been out of sorts today.”

Your heart skips, and you sit up just slightly, willing him forward with the quiet encouragement in your expression. 

This is it. He’s going to say it. You can feel it.

He clears his throat, straightening a little. “Just... uh,” he starts, his voice steady but hesitant. He glances at you, then back at his mom, and his lips twitch into a small, uncertain smile. “Just thinking how I’m gonna miss this when we leave,” he finishes, his tone light but not entirely convincing.

Your shoulders relax, a mix of understanding and disappointment flooding you as you press your knee gently against his. Quinn glances at you, his jaw tightening as he picks up on your unspoken it’s okay. Next time.

Ellen smiles warmly, tilting her head in that soft, motherly way. “It’s not long until Christmas,” she reminds him, though her voice carries a faint wistfulness, like she’s reminding herself too.

Quinn nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Not long.”

The following morning unfolds in the quiet, unhurried way that comes after a weekend of family time, everyone savouring these last hours together. The kitchen is warm and familiar, filled with the smell of coffee and the soft sounds of Ellen moving around, flipping pancakes on the griddle. Jim leans against the counter by the sink, drying dishes, while you’re perched on a stool at the island, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Quinn stands a little apart, leaned back against the counter with a piece of toast in hand, his damp hair sticking up in every direction, evidence of a quick shower.

The conversation drifts easily — something about Jim’s plans for the yard that afternoon, Ellen’s pancake technique, a joke about Luke’s questionable cooking skills. But Quinn is quiet, and not in the usual, thoughtful way. His eyes flick between his parents, to you, and back again, a pattern he’s been repeating all weekend. You know he’s been carrying the weight of the news, the excitement and nerves tangling together, keeping him from saying it despite countless opportunities.

And then, just like that, it happens.

“We have something to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but quiet enough that it cuts through the easy flow of conversation. 

The kitchen stills, all eyes turning toward him. Ellen pauses mid-flip, the spatula poised over the griddle, while Jim straightens from his spot near the sink, his brow furrowing slightly.

“What is it?” Ellen asks, her voice soft but expectant, her gaze darting between you both.

Quinn shifts slightly, his toast forgotten on the counter behind him. His hand brushes over the back of his neck, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to back out again, if the nerves will win one last time. 

But then he glances at you, his expression searching, and you nod gently, giving him the encouragement he’s been looking for.

“We’re having a baby,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush but steady, sure. His voice catches just slightly at the end, but his eyes stay locked on his parents, watching as the meaning sinks in.

For a moment, the room is silent. Ellen stares at him, her eyes wide and unblinking, her hand coming up to her mouth. Jim’s towel stills mid-fold in his hands, his gaze flicking to you as if for confirmation. And then Ellen gasps — a sound so full of joy and disbelief it feels like it fills the entire room.

“Oh my God,” Ellen whispers, her voice trembling as her hand covers her mouth. Her eyes dart between Quinn and you, wide and shimmering with emotion. “A baby? You’re having a baby?” She looks at you then, as if she needs your confirmation to believe it’s true.

Quinn nods, and the soft, tentative smile that had been tugging at his lips finally breaks free. It spreads wide, unstoppable, lighting up his entire face. 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low and steady but filled with something raw and achingly real. “We’re having a baby.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, the world feels suspended, as if the house itself is holding its breath. Then Ellen moves, her emotions bursting forth as she crosses the kitchen in a blur, her arms outstretched. She pulls Quinn into a fierce hug, her laugh bubbling up through a flood of tears.

“Oh, Quinn,” she says, her voice breaking with joy. “A baby. My baby’s having a baby.” Her hands cradle his face for a moment before she hugs him again, tighter this time, as if she can pour every ounce of love she feels into him.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around her as his chin rests against the top of her head. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

When Ellen pulls back, her focus shifts immediately to you. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, rounding the island with tears streaming down her face. “A baby. Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She pulls you into a tight hug, her warmth and joy washing over you in waves. “You’re going to be incredible parents. Both of you.”

Jim moves forward more slowly, his hand landing firmly on Quinn’s shoulder as a wide smile spreads across his face. 

“This is incredible news, son,” he says, his voice steady but with an unmistakable quiver of emotion. “Congratulations. To both of you.”

Quinn exhales then, properly exhales, like the weight of all his nerves and hesitations has finally lifted. 

For the rest of the morning, the kitchen hums with joy. Ellen flits between the stove and you, her emotions spilling over every time she catches Quinn’s eye. She can’t seem to stop smiling, crying, or imagining the tiny new addition to the family. 

“How have you been feeling?” she asks, her eyes searching yours with a mother’s concern. “If you need anything, you’ll let me know, right?”

Her hand briefly brushes over your arm, the gesture warm and reassuring, and you nod, assuring her that you’ve been well, that Quinn has been attentive, that everything is as it should be. It’s impossible not to smile at the way her joy bubbles over, filling every corner of the kitchen like sunlight.

Quinn, for his part, has shed every trace of hesitation. He talks easily now, the nerves replaced by an earnest kind of excitement. He shares the small details — the due date, how you found out, how ready the two of you feel — and every word seems to deepen the pride in Jim’s expression. He stands quietly nearby, his presence grounding and constant, his smile unwavering.

When it’s finally time to leave, the hugs linger. Ellen pulls Quinn close, whispering something through her tears before letting him go to hold you just as tightly. Jim’s hand finds Quinn’s shoulder again, squeezing it once in a way that says everything without words. There’s an unspoken promise in their goodbyes, a warmth that stays even as the front door closes behind you.

Quinn doesn’t say much as he helps you into the car, his hand brushing over your back as he opens the door. But as he settles into the driver’s seat, he glances back at the house one last time, his expression soft, a little dazed. When he turns to you, his smile is quiet, content, the kind that makes your heart ache in the best way. 

As you drive away, the crisp Michigan air shifting through the windows, his hand finds yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in that familiar, absent minded way, and you realise that for the first time all weekend, there’s nothing holding him back. The weight is gone, replaced by something steadier — joy, contentment, and the simple knowledge that everything is exactly as it should be.

[despressoslatte]

not the zoey you wanted (four)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

a/n: a big big BIG thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this fic! I love seeing everyone’s comments and inbox messages dissecting the story and making predictions! I wrote for OBX back in 2020 when the show first came out under a different blog (in case anyone here remembers a blog called jjmaybankx, HI! Though that’s just a generic username, it might be hard to remember that specific iteration ahaha), but i had just created this blog the same day i put out this fic… and i am in awe of how well received and how much you guys are actually invested in this little world i have conjured up whilst dreaming of bf!drew. I am very honored <3

Masterlist | < part three | add yourself to the taglist

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How you were supposed to just get up and go to your afternoon classes after what had just happened was beyond you, but you had an important peer workshop in one of your writing courses and then straight to the tutoring center for you. 

Day one was hard, as you navigated the complexities of whatever the hell had just happened. You were angry: angry at the car for hitting Zach, angry that he had even for a second thought that Zoey Miller had been you, angry that she let him think that knowing it was wrong, angry that she did any of what she did at all. And most of all, angry that you were even angry with Zach for it.

Tuesday rolled around and you had to go to the class you had with Zoey Miller, with anger seething in your veins but the inability to cause a scene. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your roommate Bree, what had happened. You felt like if you made a big deal and spoke about it, then you would likely never get over it. 

You felt her eyes on you as you typed your notes during the lecture, having sat a few rows and seats to the left in front of you. Could she like… not? Face forward and pay attention to the class, stop staring at the girl whose boyfriend you tried to steal after trying to steal his cousin, thanks. 

Your next shift at the tutoring center was on Wednesday. Instead of having assigned tutees for the day, you had a five hour shift in the tutoring center where you mainly did your own homework, helped student athletes figure out why the printers wanted to act up and not print their assignments, and help the few random people who would come up to the reception desk to ask you for help on a writing assignment or to proofread their essays.

You paused as you set your coffee up and laptop down on the desk, looking across the tutoring center to see Zach hunched over his own computer in one of the middle tables, typing away. He was one of the few athletes who wasn’t assigned to mandatory study hall hours after he had gotten his grade up, thanks to your one-on-one tutoring sessions and then, once his girlfriend, study dates together in his dorm or yours. He normally wouldn’t be caught dead in the tutoring center if he wasn’t required to be there, preferring to do his homework on his own anyways.

But there he was, regardless. 

A week passed and Zach didn’t try to talk to you at all, just like you had asked. You also never saw him walking around with Zoey Miller, a recurring minor nightmare you kept on having. Thank God, you thought every time you’d see one of them around campus without the other. Zoey Miller came to class looking miserable every time, and each time you worked a shift at the tutoring center, whether it be study hall monitoring or a few hours of one-on-one tutoring, Zach was there, during his homework by himself at one of the tables. 

“Hey.”

You looked up from the book you were engrossed in, taking off one airpods to see Zach in front of you, his laptop in his arms.

“Zach…” you sighed softly.

“I’m not here to bother you, I swear,” he reassured you, sliding his laptop to face you. “I just… actually need your help with this one, promise.”

You looked down at his screen to see an essay typed out. You glance up at him again.

“It’s a big part of my grade, so I was wondering if you could proofread it,” he said sheepishly, putting his hands in his pockets.

You exhale and nod, motioning with your head to the seat next to yours. A smile beamed across his face, and he rounded the desk to sit down next to you, both of you half facing each other as he watched you go over his essay in suggesting mode, making comments and edit recommendations. 

“I like the color you painted your nails,” he said softly.

“Zach,” you warned.

He shut up.

You got to page five of the essay, having only had to make a few small grammatical suggestions, a small smile building on your face for how well written the essay had been. When he wanted to apply himself, and knew how to, Zach would always be extremely smart. Sometimes, when it came to subjects he didn’t quite care for, he just didn’t care to put in the effort. But he was very smart, he had to be a student athlete. 

Plus, you knew he had little moments of crises when he thought about his future. He didn’t think he’d make it pro, but he also wasn’t passionate for other things the way he was for soccer. He felt aimless sometimes. The ironic part of it all was that he chose English Literature as his major, the classes he struggled with the most and hence how you two met.

You had given him the idea before that if he really didn’t think he could go pro, he could keep playing soccer or being involved with it through coaching at high schools or even middle schools. But you also always told him that you thought he had it in him to go pro. He was the school’s soccer star, you weren’t sure why he always sold himself short.

“You okay?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You had been stuck on page five for longer than it would have taken to read the page over twice, Zach just sitting there in anticipation of what you thought he needed to fix before he looked over at your face and noticed you were zoned out.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook yourself out of it, continuing to scroll down through his essay.

Another excruciating fifteen minutes until you were finished reading over every line intricately and leaving any commentary needed, you slid the laptop back closer to Zach.

“Just those edits, and it’s all good,” you told him, trying to avoid looking at him.

He tapped the desk, nodding. “Thanks,” he said, and you pursed your lips and nodded.

You bit your lip to try and prevent yourself from asking the question that has been hot on your mind, but the words vomit out before you can stop it, “How come you’ve been doing your homework here?”

You finally look into his striking blue eyes, seeing them widen before his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“It’s the student athlete tutoring center,” he pointed out, then pointed at himself. “Student athlete.”

You titled your head to the side, giving him “the look” as you said, “Zach…”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed with a small laugh, closing his laptop closed. “It’s the only time I ever get to see you, okay?”

You had an inkling feeling that was it, and you just nod in response.

“I can stop if seeing me bothers you,” he whispered.

“Seeing you would never bother me,” you said back.

The hopeful smile that erupted on his face made your heart sting.

The moment you two were having was interrupted when another student athlete walked up, asking for help since the printers weren’t working. You offered Zach a small smile, and he gave you a wave, before you got up to go to the opposite side of the tutoring center to figure out the printer.

ᯓ⟢

On your way to class the next day, you paused in front of the class you had with Zoey to see she was standing a little bit to the side of the pathway talking to Zach. You slowed your steps down a bit as you stared at them. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell from the back of his head, jacket, and backpack that it was him.

That same guilty look was on Zoey’s face, and she was shaking her head. 

You could tell from Zach’s body language that he was upset, the way his shoulders lifted and his arms moved about as he talked, the way he did when he was trying to drive a point. 

You didn’t feel like watching them talk, putting your head down and heading into the building to go to class.

ᯓ⟢

“So, she broke up with you?” Zoey asked as she stood there staring up at Zach. She had asked him if they could talk when she saw him walking by on her way to class, and with an irritated huff, he agreed.

“She did not break up with me,” Zach said back sternly, shoving his hands into his pocket, kicking a rock on the floor. “She is just taking time to… process… what happened between you and I on the ski trip…”

“I didn’t mean for any of that stuff to happen… I—”

“I don’t really care what you meant to have happened,” Zach said back with a shrug. “You knew you weren’t my girlfriend, pretended to be anyways, and now she won’t talk to me.”

“Well, I don’t get why she’s upset with you when I’m to blame,” Zoey quipped back, earning a look from Zach.

“Don’t,” he shook his head at her. “Don’t try to make her out to be the bad guy here.”

“I’m not,” Zoey shook her head. “I’m just saying—”

“I don’t care what you’re saying, Zoey…” he sighed. He wiped his face with the palm of his hands and huffed frustratedly. “Look. It’s just a lot for her. First, she thought I ghosted her all weekend. Then, it looks to her like I had cheated on her, and then when she found out the truth, she hears that I was starting to feel things for you, and—”

“You were starting to feel things for me?”

He gave her an irritated glare when that was all she had heard from that.

“I love Y/N, okay?” he said to her sternly, using his hands to point to himself and then off to the side for emphasis. “Not you, not anyone else, just Y/N. Whatever fake relationship you and I had when I didn’t have my memories, that’s all it was, fake. You are not the Zoey I wanted.”

Zach looked away from her, and that was when he saw the back of your head, face pointed to the floor, as you sped-walked away into the building. He couldn’t tell if you had seen him and Zoey talking, but from the way you were walking so damn fast, maybe. Damn it. 

He turned back to Zoey, who had tears in her eyes. And he felt bad, because he didn’t enjoy making girls cry.

“Just…” for the umpteenth time, he sighed. “Just stay away from me and my girlfriend, I’m begging you.”

ᯓ⟢

taglist: @faephoria @maybankslover @ursogorgeous13 @khiatonsx @enchantedstarfish @starsmoonn @zulema222 @10ava01 @ietss @rafegf-real @leather-n-velvet t @avengersgirllorianna @chalahyung01 @thaissette @emberaurora @isabellaxlilah @matchieee @purplerose291 @wtfdudesblog @mattyskies @onlyrealjoy @sabrina6272827 @probablyreadingsmutlol @loupiotesworld @tqd4455 @persefone200 @dreamygirli3 @tobucina @h1ghw4y-blog @k-k0129 @harrys-housewife @pillowprincess4him

hoping all of these tags worked, some of them weren't popping up when i typed them! i've retyped them all by hand like 3 times, but each time i save it, it comes up as half of the list not actually tagged, so pls let me know if it tagged you!

[moonshynecybin]

Sorry so random and hate to asking this like you’re google search engine but what is the deal with Vale and his parents lol

big question! im not sure how much you know so i'll generally cover as many bases as i can and sort of. gather some resources that might help you form a picture.

his dad: graziano rossi. former racer (his peak was finishing third in the 250cc class the year vale was born) who had to retire after some scary injuries (crucial for maximum vale neuroses). in terms of their relationship, first go peruse this webweave from @kwisatzworld. actually i frankly think theyre a better person to answer this question wholesale but i digress. important to note that vale straight up is like yeah he was not a good father lol. ALSO notable that graziano is asked what kind of son vale is and says 'one i can brag about to friends' which. okay. graziano also will not shut the fuck UP about vale in print (he was kind of the one to break rosquez not really being close friends anymore post-assen? for some reason??) which idk if my dad was constantly talking about me to reporters i would feel weird about that. like that is not something that i would enjoy. seems a bit like they have the sort of relationship dozens of us divorced children have with our parents where we can kind of only talk to our dad about sports.

additionally, his parents had him quite young (25 for graziano and in the thick of his racing career, unsure for his mom) and you get a sense that vale thinks they should not have done that.... he doesnt super call them 'mom' or 'dad', instead using their first names, he says they have a more 'friendly' relationship than parental, and apparently his dad and him just started saying i love you to each regularly uh. recently. heres a video of him talking about it (i get the sense the divorce exacerbated these issues as well). that being said i DO also think that vale is closer with his mom in general (she lived in his house for a long time! they lived together during covid as well!) (his mom is named stefania palma and shes a civil engineer, which i think kind ties into how journalists often mention that luca and vale talk about the bike like theyre engineers. i literally dont think that is coincidence, i think they got it from their super hot and smart mom...) heres a bit about her and graziano (x):

theres also LUCA. who is obviously his half brother (he has a few other half siblings on graziano's side, but they arent famous so we dont know as much. i get the sense they arent as close just by virtue of their difference in involvement w racing but its hard to say! its clear hes close with luca, ESPECIALLY after the academy really got going and luca got a bit older.) luca is born in 1997 when vale is 18 years old and just kicking off his career, so hes kind of never known a world where vale wasnt insanely famous. luckily and ironically his father is a sports psychologist. luca's story kind of ties in with stefania's (obviously), and here's a post about how some of the stuff going on in their lives mightve effected them and of course vale. idk why this became a luca treatise but hes important okay!!!! just a family with a lot going on that informs vale's whole deal (having much younger siblings and liking to teach perhaps as a result, his marriage feelings, his REPRESSION issues, how he shows love, how he self-protects, and a lot more. idk this is hardly comprehensive but hopefully it gives a little food for thought !

[youuuimeanmee]

I saw a comment where it says Ranma is goading Akane here, to distract her from letting go of his hands.

And I have some thoughts about it.

Tbh I don't think he's goading her here. He's just stupidly honest, because you can find some truths in his word.

Akane IS slow –slower than himself, at least. Ranma has seen this in their first spar.

It's a part of what makes her cute, but in a life-or-death situation (with the spin, the height, and the speed they're in) where a split second matters, he's worried she won't be able to react quick enough to make a safe landing.

He also knows how selfless she is, how she hates to be a burden, and how she'd help her friends in any way she can.

He's seen this when she helped him & accepted to be her friends' spare. That's one thing he likes/dislikes about her. He likes how caring she is, but he dislikes how she can be so reckless in the process.

In the battle against Ryoga, Akane was too focused on wanting to help him, she ignored the flying bandana that can slice her at any moment. When Akane accepted her friends' request to be their stand-in, he's worried she accepted it so quick without even asking, what sort of person Kodachi is –who's able to beat up girls to that extent. Again, Ranma knew how straightforward Akane's fighting style is, from their first spar. She's fair and honorable, and he loves that about her, but would she be able to handle Kodachi, whom he's seen won't even hesitate to torture helpless ordinary girls?

Anyway, back to the topic. Ranma can be brutally honest, he came off like a jerk, even though that is not his intention. The most stark example (and could be an (un)intentional parallel) is when he chosed Nabiki to save, instead of Akane.

They fell from the 2nd floor balcony, but it was just a normal fall; no crazy shenanigan, no immediate danger there. In condition like that, Ranma trusts Akane she'd be able to land safely (and she did! kinda). Meanwhile, Nabiki has 0 martial art experience, she doesn't know how to land safely. That's why he chosed to save Nabiki. Too bad he lacks the tack to say it in nicer way. He failed to convey how much he trust Akane's ability, he even insulted her unknowingly, so he came off as a dismissive, uncaring jerk.

Wanting to help a person is one thing, but endangering yourself in the process is another. For Ranma, having a good sentiment is not enough. It's also important to have a holistic understanding of your surrounding to calculate the best action to get optimal result. As much as the truth hurts, that's one of Akane's flaw; when she's panicked, blinded by her desire to help people, she can be near-sighted in the situation she's facing.

An example; Akane was too quick to jump off to save Ranma, forgetting the fact that she can't even swim. That was hella reckless of her. Ranma decided that the best action to finally end the battle quickly was to use his Cat-Fist, by using Shampoo. He was really mean when he say the harsh truth, though. Akane was able to read his mind, only after she snapped out of her emotion and see things objectively.

(tbh Ranma can be really impulsive he'd ignore his surroundings too; at times like that, Akane will be the one who keep him in check, and that's what makes their dynamic so good, but that's another story for later.)

On related topic, let's also talk about how MAPPA changes Ranma and Akane's fall.

In the manga, Ranma was focusing on the wall as their trajectory; that's why his split-second decision was to pull Akane away from the wall and let himself take the hit. He (or Rumiko) was forgetting the fact that with the speed they're in, the hard ice can also hurt Akane when they fall. MAPPA took Ranma's calculating ability a bit further. Not only did he pull Akane away from the wall, he also shielded her with his entire body to protect her from the hard ice rink.

What I'm trying to say, the way Ranma shielded Akane here is not purely out of instinct (of his love for Akane). Because, if it's pure instinct, he would be confused how his body moved that way; but he's not. He's fully aware of what he's doing. He knew the consequences, and he's willing to take it. He even demanded Akane to at least thank his effort, lol.

TLDR; Ranma said he can't leave a slowspoke like her alone to fend for herself, not just because he wants to goad her, but also because it's his honest feelings. Ranma loves Akane, he'd never let her be endangered, but he's also a calculative guy in the battle who can come off as a jerk with his brutally honest opinion. It also doesn't help that he's a teen boy who never learn how to be considerate when choosing his words, due to his upbringing with Genma. (Tbf, in an urgent matter, he's not in a position to be able to choose his words carefully either). He'd only let Akane help him & handle dangerous thing, ONLY after he calculates how much she's objectively able to handle the burden. In a world with whacky power scaling, that's one of the thing Ranma would do to protect Akane.

(just realized, my words kinda portray him as this cold insenstive guy, but isn't that part of why he's so prone to misunderstandings that makes akane wants to hit him? lol. that's also part of his learning process throughout the manga; to be a better person for akane.)

[fumifooms]

Marcille’s dungeon lord outfit is about being stuck in an inbetween

Kui combined a dress from her mother with a hat for children. It’s adulthood vs childhood. The dress is tallman fashion while the earmuffs are elven. It’s about emotions and maturity. Stability and instability. Growing & potential vs having grown & knowing yourself. It’s about her cultures and expectations and how can she possibly keep up with all of them, like the genius child she was portrayed as? It’s duality it’s conflict it’s being pulled in opposite directions. It’s about identity.

Marcille wants to have all the answers and wants them all already, she already acts like she has everything figured out more often than not, when it comes to ways to harvest mandrakes or her image of Falin and Chilchuck and orcs or her rigid sense of ethics, but the story does show that she had growing to do, plus her main goal beyond keeping her friends safe and near her is that pursuit of knowledge for what she doesn’t yet have answers for— rewriting the laws of life and death. But, as we’ve all been told before, death is simply a part of life and we have to make our peace with that one way or another. Like Marcille says in the last chapter, this was in large part the lesson and arc she’s had to go through. A lesson that Marcille’s mother has learned herself, one that she has accepted and tried to pass on to her daughter, which didn’t work and kickstarted Marcille’s pursuit of extending lifespans. Marcille has to settle with uncertainty, with knowing life can end at any moment and knowing this is who she is even if the world has no answers for her as to what that means, she has to come to terms with ambiguity and inbetweens.

Marcille’s relationship with her mother is very interesting because it’s shown all in small moments and implications, but we do see that Marcille’s mom is arguably her biggest role model.

She’s the one who shows up in Marcille’s nightmare about monster food early on, she is who told Marcille she’ll have to bear loss througout her life due to her lifespan, Marcille wears a choker like she does, it’s debatable that Marcille mimics her demeanor to seem more elven and dignified, in Marcille’s true nightmare she hides behind a portrait of her, she was the only living elven role model Marcille had around. Mother, who didn’t let grief over her husband rule the rest of her life, having even remarried, mother, who’s a court mage, mother, who pursued a life she wanted even if it cost her. And we do know being an elf is important to Marcille! She seeks to conform to elven beauty standards rigidly, both in gender presentation and things like facial hair, and she’s masked as one since she was enrolled in the magic academy, as far as we know her first time away from home and her first big period of social contact since she isolated herself with chickens and books when she was younger, because she had no peers. Books like the daltian clan, with an aestheticized all elven cast with the one exception of the half-elf character she deeply related to.

Marcille’s bangs are also half down and half cut. Before she had to cut some hair to make familiars, long bangs were what Marcille wore for years, meanwhile in all of Marcille’s childhood flashbacks including at the magic academy her bangs were always cut short. As we know, hair is important to elves. Her hair is elfness. Her hair is elegance. Her hair is her age. Her bangs are uneven now. It’s part of accepting her precarious weird spot in an inbetween, half up half down haircut. Acceptance on her own aging, that there’s no empiric answer for what Marcille’s equivalent age is in elf or tallman or other, maybe just a ballpark if even that. Answers which are what she’s most desperate to know. What do you mean that student over there has got an astronomic result on her dungeoneum and what do you mean she doesn’t really care for how you did it? Falin who’s thus showing her another way to be, with less self-made pressure, that you can just go with the flow- that you can just… Be.

Her hair being all down and messy as a dungeon lord is part of making the characters and audience understand that Marcille is out of it, but… Like her barefootness there’s some flexibility it implies, for Marcille who’s so rigid on appearance. Accepting her hair to be messy, a sort of shedding of who she is even as she’s overdressed and trying so hard to look like something she doesn’t feel as.

That’s why her outfit makes her feel courageous. Because it makes her feel different from who she is otherwise, because it grants her a look she feels naked without, even with barefeet and messy hair. It’s externalizing how she’s been trying to hold it all together and all her confliction and her feelings, offering some catharsis, no more hiding herself, she’s a half-elf trying to do dark magic. Clean Marcille, clean clean Marcille— Overthinking the dressing, the superficial the aesthetic, without looking enough at the body it’s covering up, the laws of the world the ecosystem of the dungeon the opinions of her friends’— what’s standing right in front of her face, the underlying thing holding up the rest of what she’s trying to change, what’s truly important. She’s back to being like with meeting Falin, overfocusing on the details and the nitpicks and the theorics while oblivious to the slimes and the bats and the balance of mana in that small cave dungeon. She has the dress and the hat but as a whole she doesn’t look like a slay queen or a princess or a cool sorceress or even like her mother, she just looks like a mess. 

Ultimately after calming down, she takes the earmuffs off. She lays down her childhood trauma and leaves behind its grip on her and moves forward in the dress, with maturity and emotional intelligence and logic to deal with her current situation instead of coping mechanisms and desperate grasps for control. And then when the dungeon lord becomes Laios her dress poofs, she’s in her very plain pajamas, plain Marcille, and it’s that Marcille who goes forward to help Laios save the world and defeat the demon. Hence why post-canon she starts dressing in similar dresses to her mother as well, and starts wearing more black. Black here is a color associated with her mother. She keeps her own touch and color here and there, like her red choker instead of a black one, but it’s a stark and sudden difference. She’s matured.

Her dungeon lord outfit is a coming of age outfit in a very literal way. A bridge between childhood and adulthood. We see her struggle metaphorically between the past and the future, moving on or holding onto trauma. The dress, from her mother, with cleavage and low cut sleeves and a lace gap going down to her stomach and a very short risqué skirt cut, represents maturity but it was very purposefully contrasted with the earmuffs, a childish piece of accessory associated with youth. This shows her mental state, battling with her emotions, wildly fluctuating between her academic put-together powerful self and the childish emotional outbursts the pressure is causing. Time moves on too fast but she’s not growing up fast enough to keep up or make the academic breakthroughs she wants— time is always running out and she’s both too young or too old she’s pulled in both directions and she can never be up to standards. It represents her struggle with her lifespan, her struggle to fit in, to know who she should be and what she should be doing.

Her friends aren’t afraid to say it like it is and bring back her feet to the ground instead of up in the clouds of fantasy and power, from where she was, her feet back on the dirt of where they are right now instead of the theorics of "when" and "then" and "forever". She’s weird, she’s unique, in some ways she doesn’t fit in with any group anywhere, and that’s ok and she’s accepted that it doesn’t mean she can’t feel belonging and joy as herself with her flawed friends in a flawed world. After all they did stick with her even after seeing her whole tantrum and embarrassing breakdown makeover. Personally I do say, slay queen.

You’re still here? If you’d like a full look at Marcille’s dunlord outfit, I made an entirely too long analysis of it here, this is just an excerpt of the most canon section.

[thetadispatcher]

Peter frowned a bit at Willow's remark, but he decided not to ask for an explanation of what she thought was so easy just in case it wasn't directed at him specifically.

"Deviants have the same issue, if they get too stressed they'll self destruct... Not like explode, but bash their own brains in on whatever they can find. So far Vincent is the only one I've seen hit one hundred percent stress and not self destruct, we theorize his fear of loud noises overrides the self destruct protocol." He still had yet to find what the cause of self destructing was, as it was hard to find out what goes on during the event when the android effectively destroys the one thing that would hold the answer. And he didn't want to trigger it in a monitored android, it was too risky as he had no way to stop it once it began.

"But I understand the importance of keeping this from getting out, so don't worry about that." He knew it wouldn't lead to anything good if other found out about the existence of human brains in a digital format, and he didn't want to be asked about it as he wouldn't be able to provide any kind of suitable answer.

"And I don't really care to know why you have digital copies of human brains, something tells me the reason isn't something I would like to know." If someone had felt the need to do such a thing, and if the people the scans belonged to were no longer around, he had a feeling something terrible had happened. And he really didn't want to know what that something was, as Strasky's appearance made it clear just how terrible whatever had happened had been, and he didn't want to randomly start thinking about it.

Nines turned to look at them again when he heard his model mentioned, he had been listening as Brent hardly ever spoke well he was working so there wasn't much for him to do well he waited. "It is not the first time I've heard a threat on Kamski's life, nor will it likely be the last. Gavin makes them regularly, and I have heard androids say such things as well." He commented, hearing the creator of Cyberlife be issued death threats wasn't new to him, in fact he felt it was just a common thing to hear at that point in time.

"But if you must, try to not make it obvious it was you. I am a detective unit, so it would likely fall on me or my predecessor to solve it." Nines knew he shouldn't say such a thing, but after hearing stories from humans and androids alike of their experiences with the man he could care less what happened to him.

Peter looked away from Nines once he realized he was being spoken to again, answering with a small shrug. "He just kinda showed up and made himself at home. He hasn't done anything worth kicking him out for, and he seems to be friends with Vincent even if he refuses to admit it." Sure the android was rather odd and strange, but so were quite a few who also lived in the house, so it wasn't anything too surprising for Peter. And it was nice to see Vincent socializing with anyone that he wasn't initially forced to acclimate to, which felt like a good step in the right direction for the AP700 and he didn't want to risk compromising that. "Sure, he makes demands of me, but I promised never to make another android like Dan." And that wasn't a promise he planned to ever break as he trusted Dan to never hurt someone just because he had the ability to do so, and Dan would get upset if he broke it which he really didn't want.

Dan glanced at Peter before some movement out in the hall caught his attention, the movement being Sixty and a Jerry messing around with something he knew they shouldn't be. He carefully removed Peter from him before getting up and approaching the two, who quickly noticed him and took off. Dan gave chase as he saw they were still holding something they likely shouldn't have.

Nines watched the scene looking mildly amused to witness the PL600 have to chase down androids behaving like children. Peter seemed indifferent as it was a very normal occurrence to him, he was already looking at the pictures Strasky was showing to him on the Omnitool well listening to him explain the role of each person so he'd know how to build the custom units.

"That would be the RK800 that was mentioned earlier and a EM400, a hivemind android. EM400 are naturally child-like as they are used at amusement parks, and now some are finding other ways to entertain themselves like what was just seen." Nines explained as Peter was busy jotting down notes and getting the photos he needed from Strasky to explain the function of an EM400, and why one would be following around Sixty. "They call themselves Jerry, and as of right now there are only two present on the property. The other is likely with Ralph, a damaged WR600, to keep him from getting into any danger."

Whatever joke Rook had planned to make was set aside as she eyed the two. She obviously saw nothing wrong with hanging out with alternative versions of herself. It was kind of like meeting a distant cousin, expect they were unlikely to disappoint like most relatives do. Even Bishop had little to complain about his. They both acted the way one would expect from the likes of him.

Really, it was his fault for being an asshole. She glanced at the agent, then turned to Nines. It didn't seem like a smart idea to make android cops, but that world didn't exactly shine for its bright ideas.

"Oh, you have it so easy around here." Willow scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Those engrams have a tendency to destabilize. I'd prefer to resolve any compatibility issues myself. Whatever funding you may need, consider it covered. Again, feel free not to question the source. Not every corner of the world is as content with the existence of digital beings, it'd save me some extra work."

"You should consider moving here." Bishop suggested, a faint grin on his face. He found the concept of adopting androids amusing. Some people truly went through great lengths to find humanity in everything.

Not that he cared to understand it when he hardly contemplated showing basic decency towards the aliens he had captured.

"Having to share the planet with Kamski is miserable enough. I have no intention of moving any closer."

"What about your plans to murder him?"

"Please, do not quote me in the presence of the RK900."

"Oh, he really wants a katana up his ass." Rook mused, before turning to Peter, "I think it's cool that you've got brothers. What I don't get is why you're keeping the Bishop shaped one around."

[foreverromanticising]

something, somehow, someday

1.9k words of idiots in love

lando norris x f!reader

(this is kind of rllly bad bc i need to get back into fanfic writing - im a veteran but its been a while! requests open pls send whatever!)

Friday nights always followed the same routine for Lando, he was playing chaueffer. Well, the Friday nights he had off from being Lando Norris Formula 1 Driver. More often than not, he found himself driving around Monaco, playing pick up from different bars with his girl and her friends. 

Calling her ‘his girl’ was loosely strung, she wasn’t his girlfriend by any means, but simply calling her a friend seemed unjust. It didn’t pay any justice to their connection; best friends also seemed far too juvenile for they never knew each other in their childhood years, when the term best friend perhaps would’ve suited them. 

No, they met much later in their lives, Lando’s second or third season in Formula 1, and she just happened to know a friend of a friend, which ended in the two at the same party at the same time. Typical and cliche, they knew it, but they both preferred having an organic story to tell of their meeting rather than having to admit their connection was found on some online algorithm. 

However, it wasn’t that many people asked for their meeting story as they were just friends, plain and simple - asking two friends how they met didn’t hold the same importance as it did for asking a couple. 

Yes, they were friends, if their relationship had to be labelled but in a sweet and sticky sense of friendship. They weren’t friends in the way Max and Lando were friends; a relationship consisting of streaming, gaming, and very platonic activities that would be expected of two friends. Their friendship was abnormal to outsiders but it made perfect sense for them, and why should they listen to anyone else’s opinions?

Lando never found himself waking up with any of his other friends head’s on his bare chest, but with his girl it made perfect sense. The Monaco sun peering through the windows, illuminating highlights within her hair against his tan chest, his arm tightly wound around her waist, and both of their bodies pressed into one side of the bed, despite its huge size. 

This was their normal; they had drawn an invisible line between their friendship and something more, they never dared to cross it but the line definitely grew to become blurrier as time went on.

Hence why, Lando continually found himself in a parked car outside of whatever bar or club she chose to spend her Friday night. He claims he would do this for any friend that would ask him to, he cared about how his friends would make it home, but she had never once asked to be picked up, rather he always offered.

On the outside, Lando made it clear he cared about her making it home safely, there was no reason for her to pay for a taxi when he was happy and available to take her home - a firm believer his driving was far safer than any taxi driver. But, there was a miniscule part inside his beating heart that knew it was more than just her safety. He liked picking her up because it meant she would go home with him.

Him and no one else.

“You’re sure your friends don’t need a lift too?” Lando waited to pull away from the bar until he had a definite answer; just because he was picking up his girl didn’t mean he was going to leave her friends stranded - his offers always extended to whoever she was out with. “You know I’d rather take them than a taxi.”

“I know, Lan, but Alex’s boyfriend’s on his way anyway,” Your lifted your head off of his car window to look over at Lando, sincerity laced within your words. “They’re all gonna stay at her place, it’s just easier.”

“Do you want me to drop you at Alex’s?” He hadn’t known the night out was extending into a girls night, feeling almost guilty for wanting you in his bed, his arms, rather than with your own friends. “You wanna spend the night there?”

“No,’ You let the word drag out, trying to bite back the grin that was threatening to spill over your lips. Unbeknownst to Lando, you wanted to end the night in his arms just as much as he did. “I’m tired and I think I’m done socialising for tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Just back to yours, then?” He had to actively keep his face from allowing a frown to take over after hearing your wish to no longer socialise, he had only assumed this Friday night would be the same as all the others but it appeared you had other plans.

“I mean, it’s kinda out of the way now, isn’t it?” You looked at the street whipping by you, trying to feign nonchalance over the thought of heading back to Lando’s. “Your place is probably easier.”

“Thought you didn’t want to socialise with anyone else tonight.” Lando was also trying to act nonchalant, like he didn’t care, like he hadn’t thought about this Friday night tradition ever since you had woken up in his arms last Saturday morning.

“Yeah but you don’t count.” A smile tugged at your lips as your social battery for others may have been used up, you didn’t think it could ever run out when it came to Lando. You didn’t have to play pretend, or use up much energy around him, if anything he rechargred your batteries. A night with him was exactly what you needed.

He knew exactly what you meant. You two didn’t have to even speak when you were around each other. Comfortable silence was enough to maintain your friendship.

Once Lando had parked his car, you made your way to his apartment, in that comfortable silence you had been craving. This silence followed both of you in the elevator, as he unlocked his front door, as you made your way to your respective drawer in his bedroom to find something to wear to bed, until he found you brushing your teeth and chose to join you. 

It was an image of domesticity; an old quadrant shirt of his draped over your body paired alongside a pair of his basketball shorts, your skincare lining his bathroom counter, your bodies pressed against one another - shoulder to shoulder, just as your pink and blue toothbrushes stood in their holder beside the sink. 

“What’s your plans for tomorrow?” Lando spoke through a mouthful of toothpaste, as thought his question couldn’t wait the two minutes. You poked your elbow into his ribs to shut him up until you had finished brushing your teeth.

“Not sure yet, the girls wanna go for brunch but nothing’s set in stone yet,” You looked at him through his bathroom mirror. “Why? What’re you scheming?”

“Just wondering,” He shrugged his shoulders then turned on his heel, making his way to his bedroom - prompting you to follow him. “Wondering if you wanna come play padel with me and Max tomorrow morning.” 

You watched as he peeled back the covers on his bed, placing an extra pillow onto your unassigned side of the bed because he knew you liked more pillows tha he did. “I think I’ll pass, that sounds sort of hellish to me.” Athletics had never been your thing, never one to actively participate in games, and whilst you loved Max you thought it was best to leave him and Lando their own time without you imposing - though, Lando would insist you could never impose.

“Yeah, that’s alright. Probably good to see him before the double header kicks in,” Lando climbed into his bed, arms open for you to crawl into as he was wasted no time in wanting to hold you close. “You’re still coming to Belguim, yeah?” Hints of uncertainty could be found within his voice, though he tried to hide it, he couldn’t help it. He wanted you there, cheering him on from the sidelines, because he wasn’t sure he could get through the next few races without that light at the end of the tunnel.

“Yeah ‘course.” You didn’t have to give it a second thought; you had already decided after a phone call with his mother, but it must’ve slipped your mind to tell Lando himself. You were more focused on making yourself comfortable against his body, your head taking its him on his chest as his fingertips danced along the sliver of skin that was shown from the way your legs tangled with his under the covers.

Night soond turned into morning, Lando’s alarm blaring through his phone, making him regret any decision to play padel as he felt your body intertwined with his. He had to fight every urge to cancel his plans for the day and instead keep you in his bed, wrapped up in his clothes and his arms and his bedsheets. Would it be too much to ask you to spend another night within seconds of his eyes opening? Perhaps, but he couldn’t bear the thought of spending his nights alone for the next two weeks. 

He had two separate hotel rooms booked for Belgium but he knew that, inevitably, either one of you would cave and pad your away across the hotel to the other hotel room, desperate for the comfort of laying beside one another.

Instead of dwelling on such thoughts, he forced himself to get up for the day, leaving you to rest in his bed whilst he headed out to padel. Not before sending you a quick text to wake up to:

Lan<3

Hey, just headed to padel with Max

I’ll be two hours at most and 

I’ll come home with breakfast

Stay put pretty girl

“Who are you texting?” Max asked as Lando climbed into his car, trying to peer over to see his phone screen but remaining unsuccessful as it was pulled out of his vision.

“No one, you nosey bastard.” Lando turned his phone off, begrudgingly so, and put it into his pocket.

“I know it’s her, don’t play daft,” Max knew everything about Lando and his girl, even if they were too blind to see it. “I know she’s in your bed right now, and I know you’re late ‘cause of it.”

Max knew they were meant to be, even if they didn’t, he knew it - they were taking their time in getting there, in realising that was even a possibility for the two of them. Something pulled them together, somehow they would realise it, and someday they would end up together.

Even if Lando claimed his career was too much for her to handle, only allowing himself short flings with girls that didn’t matter to him, instead of a fulfilling relationship - Max knew she would be able to handle the ins and outs of Lando’s world; she knew how to ground him after a win when his ego allowed him to feel like he was on top of the world, but she also knew how to calm him down when he came to her door upset after a race.

Max didn’t buy into her claims that Lando wouldn’t be with her because their worlds were too different, he knew that was what he wanted. He didn’t want someone who stuck around for his titles and fame, he wanted a welcome sign and a plane ride home.

But Max would never intrude on fate, he was letting them be. They were meant to be, he knew it as well as everyone around them, but he was letting fate run its course for the result would be far more fulfilling than if he meddled with the two sides of the same story he was continually being told. 

[panlight]

There's a Stephenie Meyer quote I think about like, once very few months, and it's this:

I don’t think my books qualify to be Oprah books. I think you have to take on bigger issues than Vampire/Werewolf love to make her interested. I don’t have any incest, adultery, spousal abuse, mental disease, molestation, anorexia, suicide, cutting, etc. 

Which, okay, yeah, Twilight is not a literary novel that explores any of these topics in depth, which is SM's point. It is very much a love story with a girl and a vampire (and kind of also a werewolf but not really), but . . . a bunch of these topics DO appear in her books?! Edward did try to kill himself. You can argue if what Bella was doing in New Moon actually qualifies, but Edward very much went to Volterra with the intention of committing if not something like assisted suicide, then the vampire version of suicide by cop. Also, ESME (as a human) and CARLISLE (as a newborn vampire) both tried to kill themselves in their respective backstories. ESME suffered spousal abuse. ALICE's father committed adultery with the woman who was to become her step-mother. ALICE was locked up in an asylum. EMBRY's unknown father committed adultery. BREE's father abused her and murdered her mother. SM didn't mention rape in this quote, but it happens a few times in female characters' backstories, most notably Rosalie, a pretty major secondary character.

And while the Cullen siblings all being married to each other isn't technically incest, it's like, incest adjacent or at least looks incest-y to the human population. And there's an argument to be made the Cullens' whole thing with blood is a kind of eating disorder.

Again, I get her point, she's not exploring this stuff. This isn't a 'serious' story about 'serious' topics, it's a YA paranormal romance and yeah, Oprah's Book Club doesn't pick those. But most of that stuff IS there to some degree, and the fact that it's not the point, and most of it is in backstory I guess means she doesn't think it "counts?" Which is fascinating to me in a weird way, like "oh only the secondary characters had to deal with that, it's not really in the books!" or "it only happened in backstory, it's not really in the books." But Edward does attempt suicide, and Bree is the main character of her novella (To be very fair, this quote may pre-date the Bree Tanner book, I think this is from the TwilightMOMS forum that no longer appears to exist).

I don't know. I just think about it a lot. It fascinates me.

Also, and this is less important, calling it a story about "Vampire/Werewolf love" makes it seem like she's pairing a vampire and a werewolf.

[soulfulazrael]

Haven't watched Mastermind episode (and wont), but will talk about stuff I saw from it and heard about it

So... I as you who follow my ramblings here probably know (all 2 of you probably). I do not watch this show anymore because I don't care about it's story. Apparently this new episode is BEST OF THE SEASON, but since rest of the season at best gave me a feeling of pure apathy and at worst INCREDIBLE disdain and lack of faith in humanity I say good middle ground is talking about pieces I saw because at this point I don't think I can stand watching this show for longer than 5 minutes at a time.

I make my own story for HB/HH so I will make some comparisons to my own story and plans... Maybe one day I will do bigger post about how my versions of Sins and other things look. No arts though... no talent on my part. Eh... Or maybe... Eh we will see. Probably not, but... Maybe... I dunno.

Comparisons will be mostly about Sins. And the thing I reference is a fic called Song for the Quiet Bird that for now is center of my AU where I make things of Hellaverse in my own way.

So first off. Stella moment. Probably the first thing I saw from it when I heard about it. When I saw that scene I was like: Wow. Actually proper moment where Stella shows more of a character and maybe nuance aAAAAAAaaaand the smirk...

You are amazing at failing every expectation aren't you HB? YOU KNOW SHE LE EVIL!? YOU KNOW SHE BAD!? YOU KNOW STOLAS GOOD!?

Yes I do. I am deaf from the amount of SCREAMING you are throwing at me about this every other minute. Thank you. I am not a 5 year old. She evil. What you do with it? Also apparently NOW she has a brain compared all other times besides season 1 where she had more of a peanut there? What is it? Also incest with her brother? Great... Keep on going with this. I am sure at some point even completely blind AND deaf people will understand how evil she and Andy Magic are. I sadly missed the part where I am supposed to find them interesting. But HEY at least it gives such a great explanation of why Octavia sees Stella as better parent than Stolas which is clearly shown in some of that promotional material... entire one scene... that is not a minute long even and has no dialogue between them. No chemistry or anything... Let's be honest though. For most fans that's probably enough. Just slap one or two scenes later of Andy Magic and Stella saying how bad Stolas is and you are golden... Fuck my life as it is not even a joke. Jesus.

Okay. Besides that... tragedy? I dunno. There is also SINS! Leviathan and Belphegor...

Well... that's just amazingly underwhelming. You know there is a problem when I cannot tell if a character is even meant to be someone special. Because what the Hell (get it? HELL!) is this? They look like about nothing Demons. They are barely more interesting visually than any other shmuck we saw in this world. Ozzie keeps being the best design out of all of them with most distinct and accurate one and I am starting to feel like it is only because Viv took years in making it before hastily making ones for everyone else. Seriously, would you even be able to tell they are meant to be important characters? Because they look like everyone else in this world.

Now funnily enough I have my own concepts for those in my AU. Not exactly more interesting visually as again... not an artist and it is still more concept thing as I keep figuring things out, but this is the current form I want to get them across. I think they do the job on some level in terms of what they are meant to be. One is Leviathan. It is... interesting to portray it with 2 heads... a reason for that kind of eludes, but who am I to judge? But I know in my version it will just honestly a large beast swimming across endless waters of Envy. A giant sea monster that keeps itself in a giant form among domes of Envy where cities are with immeasurable wealth and power, a creature meant to be envied. But also a creature that envies deeper than any other over the loss of their partner at the hand of God, not being able to be close with anyone or even be understood. A creature who's deep resentment and pain created entire Ring around them.

If I made a scene like that with 'sins' meeting I think it would be with a High Demon that serves as a high priest/priestess of the Leviathan faith. As all very high rank demons like Sins, certain Goetia Kings and other VERY important figures have their own religion that Hellborn MUST adhere to, in a way choose their deity and in this case it would be a Demon from said church of Leviathan that interprets them... cluelessly.

While Belphegor would not be much different as a creature that also is a larger than life being. But this one being like a giant, anthropomorphic crocodile like being similar to SCP 682, but more... static. Basically giant center point of a garbage heap that is Sloth in my AU. In some ways beautiful, but also incredibly toxic and dangerous to everything wasteland. Very bottom of Hell. Horrible place where you can be killed by some horrifying monsters with no real mind that prey on the helpless. As Belphegor itself (dunno if it even has gender) exudes aura of sloth where most Demons that come to sloth will be at some point forced to lay down and stay in place. "Bask under non existent sun" which is a term used in that version of Hell a bit to call someone lazy and it comes from that which can spell someone's horrid death.

Those are my ideas for those. But next one is the big boy himself. The Big S. Adversary. Satan.

He looks alright. Nothing you would not imagine a Satan to be. He looks dragon like, buff (even if he skipped leg day) and has funny horns of Imps. Also he has little therapist... which is funny because in my fic I also have a trial with the main judge there (in that case Lucifugus or Lucifuge Rofocale) who also has his own little therapist thing (alongside some other annoyances... and far more misery). It is funny how I guess both me and Viv kind of agree people in high political power in Hell would have their own therapist. In my version though he keeps them deep within the tower he resides in. But either way. Can't say his design or personality is something I did not see coming.

As for my version I will go with... yeah it will be quite different. Better or not. Your choice. A centaur like being that has 4 big arms, molten lava in his veins and skull on top of his body looking like a goat or dragon like being (still thinking on that). A demented monstrosity who's head went awry due to their perpetual rage who can now think of nothing, but drowning everything in so much blood that he will one day swim on that tide of gore to the Pearly Gates and smash them open in ultimate showing of their superiority over all of creation. Something his kin the Imps for the most part also believe and praise. A promise of sea of gore and glorious war. Not the kind of creature that would hold a trial. In that world it's more of a Lucifuge thing... or Lucifer if he is mood for jokes and tormenting some poor souls for their amusement.

Also I hear Stolas lost all his wealth and power over... NOT the shitty things that he did, just that he was forced to lie for the sake of I.M.P.... Eh... The avoidance of responsibility continues. Even when characters face consequences it can NEVER be over their own actions. It has to be something that can be proven wrong and goddamn will that probably be true with Via as well. Because let me tell you they are most likely going to make her be in the wrong for hating poor little Stolas baby and I hate it already. I know making assumptions is not good, but by GOD were they good at making those expectations of nuance low so far...

Actually what expectations? I don't watch this show anymore. But I am passionate about it's ideas... and that hurts me. A lot. I made this entire post because of those... and make a fic that has now few HUNDRED THOUSAND words. Damn. No idea if my version is better or worse... but it is one I prefer. It is different definitely. Even though in certain ways it's weirdly similar.

[kamalasloth]

Caitlyn Kiramman Analysis- The Wooden Boat

In S2E8, there is a scene where Caitlyn talks with both Maddie and Vi, which also features seconds long close-up shots at the wooden boat trinket she holds in her hand. My interpretation of the importance of this wooden boat is that it showcases how Caitlyn manages her emotions at this point in the series, and also how it highlights Vi’s importance in her life.

1st closeup: During Caitlyn’s conversation with Maddie

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t need consolation. I need a plan”

Here Maddie makes an attempt to comfort Caitlyn, to which Caitlyn clenches her fist around the wooden boat, refusing to let Maddie remove it.

The trinket serves as a manifestation of Caitlyn’s emotions. She doesn’t see Maddie as a person she can confide in, so she decides to keep her emotions bottled in, thus the wooden boat held firmly in her hand.

2nd closeup: Caitlyn’s heated conversation with Vi

“How long were you sidled up with that shifty, self-serving war pig? She oinked poison in your ear, and you just ate it!”

“I know!”

In contrast with her holding onto the wooden boat for dear life with Maddie, here Caitlyn throws the trinket at the ground in frustration.

Although they’re clearly in an argument, them having an argument itself is a difference in how Caitlyn views Maddie and Vi.

She doesn’t trust Maddie with matters of her heart, so she avoids even putting real emotion into their conversations, acting as formal as she can, Caitlyn acknowledges the social status between them (commander and officer).

With Vi, Caitlyn isn’t afraid to speak freely, so she tosses the wooden boat, her raw emotions out towards Vi, in hopes that Vi would understand what she is feeling. The reason why they’re even in an argument is because Caitlyn trusts Vi so so much. To give a personal example, I can get into an argument with my family over the tiniest things, every few weeks, but not with other random people in my life. That is because we don’t bottle up our emotions towards people we love!! We aren’t afraid to let them know what we really think, as opposed to having conversations with other people in our lives, we try to always say the appropriate thing.

This isn’t the only case where Caitlyn shows how much she trusts Vi.

Earlier in the story, we as a fandom always laugh at how Caitlyn immediately folded after hearing Vi out about saving Vander. There is still a valid reason behind why she would do that (besides her being down bad🤣). Just as Vi later said, Ambessa is fake AF, which means nobody in her life apart from Vi has pure intentions, so imagine her being in that toxic environment for so long and then Vi hits her with an “I want to save my dad.” That is like the realest thing anyone has said to her for a while, so of course she wanted to help her😭 Remember season 1 guys, they’re both smol beans with good hearts 💔

But back to Caitlyn tossing the wooden boat, in another perspective, Caitlyn is pouring out her heart out to Vi, basically saying, I no longer know what to do, every time I try to do the right thing it always backfires, PLEASE HELP ME. She doesn’t have to care about her social status, or showing her soft side to Vi, WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE CONCLUSION that had Vi not stomp out of the room after, they would’ve fucked right then and there. Lmao.

Here is the clip I referred to for this analysis:

[hardgum]

Alright, I'm gonna rant one last time and repost this because it actually explains most of my issues with season 2. This is what I mean when I say that stuff gets too weird and suddenly anything is possible.

On one side you have magic, weapons, the environment, I don't know what to call it. This is important, because it sets the stakes. If that stuff doesn't get established to a point where I can roughly guess how powerful things are and how they can be used, then anything is possible. Viktor could've sent a gigantic skybeam down on Piltover and Mel could've ridden a magical unicorn to fly up and stop him and it would've been reasonable within the given lor because there wasn't any. An example that done better was actually Ekko's Z-Drive. It can rewind four seconds, nothing more, nothing less. There's no weird stuff where e.g. Ekko suddenly appears twice, and you're never left wondering "Why didn't he just go back further?" Because the boundaries were clear.

On the other side you have character motivation. This is what lets me connect to a character. This has been missing on so many parts! Just like the other post mentions, in season 1 even the most minor character like Huck had his motivation established. If he helps Vi first, why does he betray her later? Because he's shown to be weak and timid and shimmer makes him strong, so he's addicted to it! Now compare that to Maddie's betrayal. Maddie did it because she was... Evil? Heartless? I guess? Apparently she was just a tool for Ambessa just as she was a tool for the story.

Talking about Ambessa: What even was her goal? Weaponization of Hextech to use it against the Black Rose I suppose? She clearly wanted to protect Mel, but when Mel disappeared we didn't even get to see Ambessa's reaction! Ambessa generally felt like she was just there to cause conflict, like she just wanted to murder everyone in her way to take over Piltover... and then what? Fight the Black Rose? Who are they even? Honestly, up until the end I wasn't sure if they're actually bad, or just a resistance group that has resorted to dark magic and deception to take down Noxian warlords! It's still unclear actually...

Honestly, I liked act2 mostly for reuniting Vi, Jinx and Vander, and even that happened too quickly, but it still worked for me because of the build-up (you kow, for character motivation) in season 1. Isha also has no character, but at least we got to see Jinx connect with her like a sister.

And then there's Ekko, who's an interesting case. I didn't get disconnected from him, HE got disconnected from the plot! I understood his character for ep7, but when her returned in ep9 he was suddenly able to connect with Jinx despite not having seen her since their fight on the bridge only because he met an entirely different version of her that he liked in the almost perfect universe? And it's not even properly shown?! I get that it would move him to give Jinx another chance, but this made it seem like he suddenly understood her, even though AU!Powder has nothing to do with her. He just reappeared after months of being gone, he has no idea what happened and what state she's in! And then he says one proper line and it just cuts away.

Many people praised season 1 for often going the "Show, don't tell"-route, but season 2 was neither show nor tell...

Anyway, like I said, last rant to put my frustration into words, I'm tired...

what made season 1 so stunningly good was that every scene could be explained with stuff that happened on screen.

Why did Vi know where to find Vander after Silco took him? well of course because of Ekko who was established in the first few minutes of the first episode to be the character to be on look out.

Why did Powder follow the others to the abandoned building? why because she wanted to feel useful, she wanted for her stuff to work and she wanted to help. She wanted to not be the Jinx. This was all established through character moments that were natural and normal human interactions.

Why did Mel invest in Jayce? Why because first of all her own mother sent her away so seeing Jayce's mother stand up for her son must've hit her. And we see her talking about having to find new investments. Of course she would. He sounds interesting enough. Why not try it? If it doesn't work banishment is still on the table.

Why did Viktor help Jayce? Because he didn't want to stand in Heimerdingers shadow as just an assistant anymore. He was sick and knew the problems of the undercity first hand, he wanted to help. Of course he would, if there was a chance hextech could do it.

Why did Marcus continue to help Silco even after Graysons death? Why, because of his daughter or course. He could be threatened, molded and used. He wanted to establish big things, and was hasty in his youth, and we see 1. Silco exploit that and 2. Marcus regret that.

Why did a shimmer induced Huck help Caitlyn out? Why because as early as the very first episode in Vanders first speaking scene he gets help from Vander and well why wouldn't he then show that help for Vi, knowing he can?

literally every scene makes sense, everything can be explained with stuff that we SEE in the show. There isn't anything "off screen" or just not there.

Now tell me

Why did Caitlyn suddenly switch sides again in season 2 act 2? Why and how did Mel know that her brother wasn't actually her brother? Why did she know how to solve the puzzle? Why is Viktor suddenly floating in the universe? Why does Ambessa just ignore her daughter being abscent outside of that one throw away line? Why do Maddie, Loris and Isha exist? Every chatacter existed for a reason that wasn't just Plot even if they sometimes were just for Plot in season 1. But Maddie, Loris and even ISHA for gods sake, really are just Plot. Isha not as much as Maddie and Loris and thank god for that but still, her character, while I still hope it isn't true, existed to die and further Jinx's pain.

it's just so ugh

Edit: A lot (and I mean a LOT) of people have told me how Kino did make sense and I agree with that now. Though I stand firm with my opinion that we should've gotten to know him before so we could have figured it out even easier with Mel, there were actually signs I didn't notice myself before. Thank's for that.

Plus I will not back down on the fact that Mel just knowing the solution to the puzzle "makes sense cause sHe WaS ShOwn TO Be gOoD WiTh PuZZLes" is stupid. Yes, I know she is smart and good with that. But that's like a whole different thing. It's such a leap I don't know how some of you don't see it.

[saruside-01]

Finished ena5…

Lots of thoughts…

First of all, I love the ending. The fact that ena just doesn’t care, that all she wants is for mizuki to come back to n25 and for her to happy. (I want friends like that too…)

The cards. I love the warm atmosphere, the lighting, the sakura, everything. But I think it’s important to point out how it’s usually the untrained vers that match, not the trained. And both ena and mizuki crying, but from joy… I love you sega

And I know all of mizuena fans cheered (me included), but the more I watched how the story goes, how everyone tries to go forward, I realise how 1) we’ll never get any confirmation on any ships (which was pretty obvious) & 2) the story is supposed to show us genuine bonds that does not have to be romantic at all; how important true friendship is. And while watching the final scene, I’ve realised that mizuki’s and ena’s bond is something much stronger than romantic feelings. Idk, to me it just feels like platonic love is much stronger than romantic. (But maybe that’s just my aroace brain)

The voice acting was truly peak, I literally started crying, it all felt so real. All of mizuki’s doubts, ena’s determination (and her own doubts), kanade & mafuyu not knowing what happened, yet still searching for mizuki.

(I’m also very happy about mzk telling mfy & knd about her secret. And the “welcome back, mizuki”?? Augh I love n25 so much)

[joltiion14]

II episode 18 spoilers, BUT HERE'S A HUUUUUGE RAMBLE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

PAYJAY IS CANON PAYJAY IS CANON I'M FLIPPING THE FUCK OUT YAOI WHEN CAN I HAVE WHAT THEY HAVE

ahem anyways

episode 18 had me and my sister at the edge of our seats HOLY SHIT I LOVED THIS EPISODE... KNIFE X MEPHONE4S GUYS GUYS WHO'S WITH ME... ALSO KNIFE'S SACRIFICE TO SAVE MARSHMALLOW CAME FROM SOME FUCKING PEAK CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. THEY COULD NOT HAVE KILLED KNIFE OFF IN A BETTER WAY THAN THAT. SPEAKING OF SACRIFICES, my boy mepad... MY BOY MEPAD AHAHGSHSHAGHH rest in peace I LOVE YOU MEPAD....

I wanna quickly point out how emotional I got when cobs started threatening and beating mephone4, as a victim of child abuse this hit haaard. they did great writing the dynamic with those two, it felt realistic even in a fictional world. I FELT SO BAD FOR MEPHONE THAT ENTIRE TIME I JUST WANTED TO HUG HIM FUCK YOU COBS.

also I may or may not be a box kinnie now. I GOT SPOILED THANKS TO A THUMBNAIL I SAW OF A LEAKED II18 VIDEO, SO I KNEW BOX WAS GONNA BE IMPORTANT, but holy shit I did not expect them to be one of the most relatable characters the SECOND they came on screen and started explaining their story.

I might get blocked by multiple people for saying this, but since the last 2 episodes, I've been shipping tacophone. HEAR ME OUT. microphone and taco talked things out some, mic forgave taco and understood her and gave her a chance to improve, and so she did, thanks to microphone willingly giving her a chance even after everything. sure, a relationship between the two would be toxic in the previous episodes, and I fully agree. But toxic or unhealthy relationships CAN be fixed if both partners are willing to try and repair their relationship. AND PLUS, THOSE TWO ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER I JUST AAAGHHHH.... I can't get over the fact that soap pulled the "if you hurt her, I will hurt you" kinda thing on taco, once microphone introduced soap to her. I developed a headcanon that mic and soap are like sisters about a year ago and I guess that goes to show some more now

anyways, I CANNOT leave out the fact that SUITCASE FUCKING WON. I FULLY EXPECTED NEITHER OF THEM TO WIN, BUT OH MY GOD DID SHE DESERVE IT. Her and knife both deserved it actually. It's hard to truly decide LMAO

anyways, mephone4 in that episode... I love him your honor he's my new son FUCK YOU COBS. anyways, just like mic and taco, he tried to fix his mistakes with everybody. he apologized to... EVERYONE. Even toilet , who genuinely was someone mephone4 didn't deserve as an assistant considering how much of an ass he was towards him in the earlier season. Even then, toilet stayed with him to the bitter end, and stayed loyal to mephone. And in the end, he got to see mephone4 turn into a better person. Even bad people with the worst backgrounds or childhoods can become better, and that's what Mephone4 did. he apologized, then made the decision to stay away from everybody and give them space after what he did to all of them, and I think that was amazing on his part. He didn't tell them what to do next, and let them all know that they were free, they always were. AND THEN WE GOT THE MASHUP BETWEEN ALL OF THE SONGS IN THE SHOW YEAAAAAAAAA

overall, id rate this episode AND THE ENTIRE SEASON AS A 49/40 (reference heh). Inanimate insanity has been my favorite show for many, many years and I'm so glad it got an ending as good as this one. I will forever be grateful for the show Adam, Brian, Justin and all the rest of the cast managed to create for us. Thank you. PLUS ALL OF MY DREAMS CAME TRUE

except for the fact that lightbulb and paintbrush didn't kiss when can we have that

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between Us: Chapter 9

OTHER CHAPTERS:

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

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Gabby and Glen arrive in Austin, where she gets her first glimpse of his Texas home that perfectly fits him. After a casual tour, they cook dinner together, but a small mishap leaves Gabby with a cut finger. Glen keeps her calm, tending to her with a gentle touch. Later, they settle on the couch to eat, sharing laughter and easy conversation, and Gabby continues to feel like she truly belongs—not just in Glen’s house, but with him.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Kitchen Knife Cut. Some blood and First Aid.

A/N: Honestly this is just more of our favorite couple being sickeningly sweet and adorable.

I'm so appreciative and grateful for all of the reblogs, comments, and hearts I've received on this story! This story is the first time I've ever written anything with the intention of posting it, and I love reading each and every reblog and comment! Please continue to let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs! Also if you'd like to be tagged please let me know, and I will get you added to the tag list!

Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @teacupsandtopgun @loveatfirsttornado @khouse712

As they stepped off the plane and into the bustline terminal, Glen adjusted his baseball cap and sunglasses, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. Gabby walked beside him, brushing her hair behind her ear as she glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Just as they passed through the gate area, Glen looked over at her, his lips curving into a warm smile. “Welcome to Austin, Gabby.”

She laughed softly, the sound cutting through the din of the crowded terminal. “Thanks,” she replied, matching his pace. “So... are you going to be my personal tour guide while I’m here?”

Glen smirked, the playful glint in his eyes unmistakable. “I’ll see if I can fit a tour into our very busy schedule,” he teased, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

“Oh, is that right?” Gabby shot back with an arched brow.

“Absolutely. We’ve got important things to do,” Glen said as they approached the baggage claim. “Like introducing you to my mom and sisters. No pressure or anything.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she smiled. “No pressure at all,” she said lightly, though her tone betrayed a hint of nerves.

They waited by the carousel, the familiar hum of luggage belts filling the air. When Gabby’s bright blue suitcase finally came around, Glen stepped forward without hesitation and hefted it off the belt.

“Got it,” he said, balancing it with his carry-on bag and Brisket’s carrier.

Gabby reached out, frowning slightly. “You know, I can carry my own bag.”

Glen gave her a skeptical look as he hoisted the suitcase to test its weight. “Yeah, no. This thing weighs a ton. What’d you pack, bricks?”

“Funny,” she deadpanned, crossing her arms. “Seriously, though, I’ve got it. You’re already carrying enough.” She added as she motioned towards Glen who had Brisket’s carrier and his own carry on bag on his shoulders in addition to now trying to pull her suitcase behind him.

But Glen just shook his head, determined. “Not happening.”

Gabby huffed and then gestured toward his full hands. “Okay, but you’re going to drop something at this rate. Come on, just let me help.”

Pausing mid-step, Glen gave her a considering look, then grinned mischievously. “Alright. You really want to carry something?”

“Yes,” she insisted, rolling her eyes at his exaggerated tone.

Without another word, Glen handed over Brisket’s carrier. “Here you go. You get to carry the most important passenger.”

Gabby stared down at Brisket, who let out a soft, curious bark from inside the carrier. She couldn’t help but laugh as she took it from Glen. 

“You’re such a gentleman,” she teased, holding up the carrier.

“Always,” he replied with a wink before he continued toward the exit, effortlessly rolling her suitcase behind him.

Gabby followed, adjusting the carrier on her arm and shaking her head with a smile.

As they stepped out into the Texas sunshine and headed toward the parking lot, Gabby couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. This trip was about to bring her even closer to Glen’s life, and she wasn’t sure what to expect—but with him by her side, she was ready to take it on.

As they drove out of the airport and into the heart of Austin, Gabby stared out the window, taking in the lively energy of the city. The streets were buzzing with people strolling between colorful shops, food trucks parked along the sidewalks, and music drifting out of open doors. It was a stark contrast to the sprawling chaos and noise of Los Angeles or the familiarity of her old life in Kansas City.

“First impressions?” Glen asked, glancing at her as he navigated the streets with practiced ease.

“It’s charming,” she said with a smile, her gaze catching on a couple of musicians strumming guitars on a street corner. “Lively, but in a different way than L.A.”

Glen nodded, his hands resting casually on the wheel. “It’s got its own vibe, that’s for sure. Just wait until you see the hill country outside the city. That’s my favorite part.”

Gabby looked at him, noticing how the tension he seemed to carry in Los Angeles had already started to dissolve. His shoulders weren’t quite so stiff, and even his voice seemed lighter.

“You’re different here,” she said softly, almost to herself.

He shot her a quick look, one brow raised. “Different how?”

She smiled, shrugging. “I don’t know… more relaxed, I guess. You’re not even home yet technically, but you seem... lighter.”

He chuckled at that, a low, warm sound that filled the car. “Yeah, well, I guess this place does that to me. It’s where I grew up, where my roots are. There’s just something about being back here that makes everything else feel... simpler.”

As the downtown skyline began to fade into the distance, replaced by quiet neighborhoods and stretches of open space, Gabby could see what he meant. The roads became less crowded, lined with towering oak trees and wildflowers dotting the ditches.

“You ever miss it?” she asked, her voice curious. “Living here full-time, I mean.”

“Sometimes,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “L.A. has its perks, don’t get me wrong. And it makes sense for me to be there for work. That’s why I still have my place out there. But this…” He gestured out the window toward the rolling hills that were starting to peek through the horizon. “This is home. It’s where I can just be me, you know? No cameras, no noise, no chaos. Just Glen.”

Gabby’s heart softened at his words, and she couldn’t help but smile. “I like just Glen,” she said, her voice sincere.

He glanced at her again, this time with a small, genuine smile. “Yeah? Well, he likes you too.”

The quiet intimacy of the moment settled between them as they continued their drive. Gabby couldn’t help but admire how at ease Glen seemed here, his hand resting comfortably on the gear shift, the sunlight catching the curve of his jawline.

By the time they turned onto a winding road leading out toward the countryside, the view opened up into sprawling stretches of land. Gabby leaned closer to the window, her eyes widening.

“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful out here.”

“You ain’t seen anything yet,” Glen said, his voice tinged with pride. “Wait until we get to the house.”

She turned to him, her curiosity piqued. “Alright, tour guide, you’ve got me intrigued.”

He grinned but didn’t say more, letting the Texas landscape do all the talking. The further they drove, the more Gabby found herself relaxing too, swept up in the calm that seemed to radiate from both Glen and the place he called home.

As Glen rolls up to the start of the driveway, Gabby notices the wrought iron gate looming ahead, guarding the property. Glen rolls down the window of the truck and punches in a code on the keypad. The gate opens with a soft hum, and they continue down the long gravel driveway, the crunch of tires beneath them the only sound breaking the stillness of the land.

Nestled among the towering oak trees, the home appears to rise from the earth, its pale walls glowing softly in the late afternoon sun. The roofline is low and sleek, dark metal panels contrasting with the rustic stone, giving it a subtle modern touch. A stone path leads up to the front door, flanked by neatly manicured landscaping—grasses and flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The scene is nothing like she expected, yet it feels impossibly fitting for the man she’s come to know over the past month.

“Wow,” she breathes, her eyes wide, not just at the house but the land that stretches out around it, open and expansive. “This is your house?” She asks, voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. "Like ALL of this?"

Glen smirks, a glint of pride in his eyes as he nods. "Bought it last year. Been eyeing this area for a while. When it came up for sale, it just felt right. This is where I come when I need to get away from everything.” His gaze sweeps over the land around them, an unspoken connection to the place that only he seems to understand.

He steps out of the truck and gestures toward the house. "Come on, let me give you the tour."

Gabby follows him, her boots crunching on the gravel as they make their way toward the front door. The door opens with a soft creak, and the moment she steps inside, the shift in atmosphere is immediate. The space is expansive, airy, and yet warm, with a perfect blend of rugged charm and understated modern luxury.

The living room was a warm, inviting space that struck the perfect balance between rustic charm and modern elegance. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, which framed lush green trees and a serene view of the water beyond. The walls, made of creamy stone, complemented the rich, honey-toned wood beams that ran across the vaulted ceiling, adding a natural warmth to the room.

At the center of the space was a grand fireplace, its tapered design drawing the eye upward. Above it hung an intricately woven rug in warm red and earthy tones, giving the room a personal and artistic touch. Plush seating was arranged around a low, solid coffee table—two sleek leather chairs with soft, neutral cushions, a sofa in a deep, rust-colored fabric, and a matching wooden-framed couch with cozy taupe pillows.

A woven area rug tied the seating area together, while textured throw pillows and a soft blanket added layers of comfort. On the far side of the room, a vintage console table, adorned with carefully chosen decor and a hint of greenery, completed the look.

They move to the kitchen, where the dark black cupboards and glossy marble countertops create a striking contrast against the white walls. Stainless steel appliances reflect the natural light pouring in through the windows, while exposed beams in natural oak add a rustic charm to the otherwise sleek and modern space. It’s a space for someone who appreciates both design and functionality, and Gabby can’t help but be impressed by the seamless integration of the two.

Glen leads her down a hallway towards the bedroom. He points out the guest room on the right. It’s a quet and serene room with beige walls and carpeted floors. The bed has a white comforter and some green throw pillows that add a touch of color but still look cozy and inviting.

“You’re welcome to stay in here if you don’t feel comfortable staying in my room.” He says softly, his voice a little softer now. She can tell he’s hoping she stays with him in his room, but doesn’t want to push or pressure her.

Gabby smiles softly, touched by his thoughtfulness. “It looks cozy in here,” she says, stepping inside to take in the space a little more. It feels welcoming, just like the rest of the house.

Next, they continue down the hallway. Glen points out the main bathroom and then opens the door to the left. He leads her into the master bedroom, and Gabby immediately stops in her tracks. It wasn’t at all what she expected. Which in hindsight, she wasn’t sure quite what she expected from a 35 year old bachelor. But it wasn’t this.

The room was both strikingly modern and somehow also seemed almost personal, a reflection of a man with layered tastes. The walls were painted a deep charcoal gray, creating a cozy yet bold atmosphere that drew her in. The centerpiece of the room was a king-sized bed with a headboard made of reclaimed wood, its warm tones breaking up the darkness of the walls. The bedding was a mix of textures—soft white sheets layered with a dark gray comforter, patterned throw pillows, and a luxurious fur blanket draped across the foot. A low bench of smooth, solid wood sat at the end of the bed, simple yet elegant in its design.

Above the bed hung a large abstract painting, its earthy tones of bronze and black blending seamlessly into the space. It was lit by two pendant lights suspended on either side of the bed, their glass shades casting a warm, ambient glow over the nightstands beneath them. The nightstands themselves were sleek and minimal, adorned with a few thoughtful touches—a small sculpture, a stack of books, and what looked like a vintage alarm clock.

The floor was made of rich, polished wood, partially covered by a large, intricately patterned rug in shades of cream, black, and brown. Gabby’s eyes were drawn to the tall windows that dominated one wall, their black frames perfectly complementing the dark color palette. Beyond the glass was a private deck and a view of the snowy landscape outside, the natural light softening the room’s bold edges.

She couldn’t help but smile, caught off guard by how perfectly this space encapsulated Glen. It was masculine without being overbearing, stylish without being pretentious, and just comfortable enough to hint at the quiet thoughtfulness he often hid behind his teasing. It was the kind of room you wanted to linger in, much like the man who owned it.

Turning to look at him, Gabby raised an eyebrow. “This is... unexpected,” she said, her voice soft with wonder.

Glen smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Unexpected good or unexpected bad?”

“Unexpected perfect,” she admitted, letting her gaze wander over the room once more. “It’s so... you.”

“It’s kind of a mix of styles,” Glen admits, almost sheepish as he watches her reaction. "I wanted it to feel kind of both modern and... comfortable, you know? This is where I spend a lot of my time when I’m home. I come in here and read scripts or respond to emails a lot in here.”

Gabby nods, absorbing the energy of the space. "I can see why," she says softly. "It’s really... perfect."

Glen gives a small chuckle. “Glad you think so. I hope you’ll be comfortable here this week.”

He stood a few steps behind her, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his jeans. There was something almost vulnerable in the way he glanced between her and the room, as if her opinion mattered more than he cared to admit.

She turned to face him, her chest tightening with a sudden wave of emotion. It was only then that it struck her—this wasn’t just any place. This wasn’t like his rental in Los Angeles. This was his home, his real home. The ranch, with its wide-open space and weathered charm, was his pride and joy. Every detail, every corner of this house, felt steeped in him: grounded, steady, and quietly intentional.

But bringing her here, to the place that clearly meant so much to him, felt huge for their very new relationship. He wanted her here. He wanted her to see this side of him, the side that wasn’t shaped by movie sets and red carpets but by something far more authentic. And somehow, knowing that made her fall for him just a little more.

“It’s perfect,” she said softly, her fingers brushing over the edge of the wooden bedframe as she turned her gaze back to the room. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He shrugged one shoulder, trying to play it off, but the faint curve of his lips betrayed him. “Figured it was time to show you where I come from.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Well, it’s definitely not L.A.”

“Nope. It’s better.” His tone was light, but there was an undeniable sincerity in his words.

She nodded, looking out at the sun-drenched fields again. She could feel it now, too—the sense of peace that seemed to hum through the air, the way the ranch felt like an anchor to something truer and simpler.

After giving her a moment to take in the master bedroom, Glen guides her through the house again, back toward the kitchen. The space opens up into a large deck, a smooth wooden surface that stretches out from the house, offering a sweeping view of the massive backyard. The sun is beginning to dip lower, casting a golden hue across the landscape. Gabby’s gaze follows the expansive lawn, where a firepit sits surrounded by stone seating. Beyond that, the green of the land rolls on, stretching out until it reaches a distant body of water—either a river or lake—glimmering faintly in the fading light. In the far distance, a barn stands, old but sturdy, its white paint peeking out from behind a cluster of trees.

Glen notices her eyes linger on the barn and grins. 

“That’s the party barn,” he says with a wink, leaning against the railing beside her. “Not much happening there right now, but when I’ve got some time off, that’s where the guys and I go.”

Gabby laughs softly, picturing him with his friends, all of them hanging out in a place like this, enjoying the solitude of the land. “You guys must have some fun stories out there,” she says, her voice light. 

She leans forward, resting her elbows on the railing, taking in the scenery with a relaxed sigh. The quiet beauty of the place settles over her, the peace of the land wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

Glen steps closer, his presence radiating behind her. He wraps his arms around her waist, his body pressing against hers as he rests his chin gently on her shoulder. The warmth of his breath near her ear sends a shiver down her spine.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and sincere. The words settle in her chest like something precious.

Gabby’s heart flutters at the unexpected intimacy of the moment, the weight of the words not lost on her. She turns her head just enough to meet his eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. He presses a gentle kiss to her cheek, the contact brief but tender. It lingers on her skin, sending a rush of warmth through her. 

“I’m going to grab our bags from the truck,” he says, stepping back slightly, though his hands remain on her. “Feel free to keep enjoying the view. I’ll be right back.”

Gabby watches him walk away, her mind still caught in the gentle comfort of his touch. As he disappears back inside, she leans over the railing again, letting herself relax completely. The quiet of the evening, the distant sound of wind rustling through the trees, and the sight of the water shimmering in the fading light all blend together, and for the first time since arriving, Gabby feels at peace. It’s a feeling she’s getting used to the more time she spends with Glen.

Meanwhile, Glen walks back into the house with their bags, he pauses and takes a moment to glance at Gabby, still leaning over the railing as she takes in the view. The soft evening light seemed to glow around her, making her look even more at ease than when they'd arrived. He smiles quietly to himself before walking back into the house.

He takes the bags down the hall, his mind lingering on the thought of her staying in the guest room. It’s a comfortable space, perfectly fine for her, but the idea of having her close to him, in his own room, is hard to shake. Of course, he’ll be okay with whatever she chooses. If she’s more comfortable in the guest room, than that’s okay. He shakes the thought away as he sets her bag down on the bed in the guest room and straightens up, trying to focus on the evening ahead.

When he returns to the living room, Gabby is already inside, taking in the kitchen.. Glen leans against the doorway for a moment, watching her as she surveys the space, almost like she’s settling in for a moment of peace.

“You hungry?” Glen asks, his voice casual but laced with an underlying warmth.

Gabby looks over at him, nodding with a smile. “Yeah, actually, I am.”

“I had my mom run out for some groceries before we got here,” he admits, stepping into the kitchen. “There should be plenty of stuff to work with. What do you feel like?”

Gabby shrugs, glancing over at the fridge. “Something quick and easy sounds good,” she says, her smile widening. “We don’t have to go all out.”

Glen laughs, relieved. “Definitely not. I was thinking something simple. Maybe stir-fry? Or tacos?”

She grins, the light in her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Tacos sound perfect.”

They both get to work, the easy rhythm of being in the kitchen together settling around them. Glen pulls out a few chicken breasts from the fridge and starts prepping the protein, slicing it into strips with quick, practiced motions. Gabby, meanwhile, moves toward the counter to start chopping vegetables—peppers, onions, and a handful of fresh cilantro. The space between them feels comfortable like they’ve done this together a hundred times before.

As they work, Glen glances at her now and then, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. There’s something about the way she’s so at ease in the kitchen, moving with a natural grace. She’s focused, but there’s a lightness to her that makes everything seem effortless.

“I’m impressed,” he says as she arranges the vegetables, wiping her hands on the towel. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”

Gabby raises an eyebrow, shooting him a playful glance. “You didn’t think I’d be any good at this?”

Glen chuckles, shaking his head. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But I’m glad I’m not the only one who knows how to cook around here.”

“Maybe you would’ve known sooner if you ever let me cook.” She quips back.

He just laughs as he looks over at her.

As they continue preparing dinner, the easy rhythm between them persists. Gabby’s focused on chopping vegetables, gliding the knife smoothly through the peppers and onions. The kitchen is filled with the hum of sizzling chicken and the soft sound of the knife hitting the cutting board.

Then, with a slight misstep, Gabby's hand jerks just as she cuts into a pepper. The blade catches her skin, and a sharp sting runs through her finger. She immediately stops, setting the knife down and cursing under her breath as she glances down.

“Damn it,” she mutters to herself, her finger now starting to redden with blood. 

Glen doesn’t notice at first, still busy with the chicken. Gabby shakes her hand, hoping it’ll stop, but when she looks at it again, the blood starts to pool around the cut then begins to run down her finger.

"Uh, Glen..." Gabby's voice cracks a little, the panic starting to creep in.

“Gabby?” His boots thudded against the wooden floor as he made his way to her. “What happened?”

“I—” she stammered, her face pale as she held up her trembling hand. “I—I cut myself. Glen, it’s bleeding a lot. Oh God, I think I’m going to—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Glen stepped in, his voice calm and steady, grounding her. He reached for her wrist, his fingers warm and grounding as he gently pulled her hand closer. “Let me see.”

She reluctantly let him examine the wound, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. Her free hand braced against the counter as her knees wobbled.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Glen said after a beat, his tone calm and reassuring. “It’s a clean cut, nothing too deep. You’re gonna be fine.”

Gabby didn’t feel fine. Her vision swam, and her chest felt tight. “Are you sure? What if I need stitches? What if we have to go to the hospital? What if—”

“Gabby.” His voice softened, and she dared to look up at him. His green eyes were steady, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. “You’re not dying. I promise.”

“I’m not good with blood,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I noticed,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he guided her toward the sink.

She stumbled after him, her hand throbbing, her heart racing. The sight of the blood smeared across her palm made her stomach twist again, and she squeezed her eyes shut as Glen turned on the faucet.

“Deep breath,” he said, his hand firm but gentle as he held hers under the cool water. “You’re tougher than this. I’ve seen you handle way worse.”

“That’s debatable,” she muttered, wincing as the water stung.

“Nope. I’ve got evidence. Like that time I made you watch a scary movie with me and you left nail marks on my arm.”

Gabby cracked an eye open to glare at him. “This is not the same as a scary movie.”

“Fair point,” he teased, his grin widening as he turned off the tap and reached for a clean dish towel. “The slasher in the move was way scarier.”

Despite herself, she let out a shaky laugh. “You’re the worst.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Glen said lightly as he patted her hand dry. But his teasing faded as he inspected the cut again, his focus sharpening. “Hold still,” he murmured, turning to open a drawer and then pull out a first aid kit inside.

Gabby stayed rooted in place, her pulse still pounding in her ears but slowing under the calm efficiency of Glen’s movements. His hands were steady, his touch sure as he opened the kit and pulled out antiseptic and bandages.

“This might sting a little,” he warned, dabbing at the cut with a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic.

She hissed, her fingers twitching in his grasp. “A little?”

“Okay, maybe a lot,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But you’re doing great.”

Gabby bit her lip, her eyes fixed on his face instead of the wound. He was so calm, as if patching her up was just another chore on the ranch. For all his teasing, he took the task seriously, his brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully wrapped a bandage around her hand.

“There,” he said after a moment, stepping back to admire his work. “Good as new.”

Gabby glanced down at the neatly wrapped bandage and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The bleeding had stopped, and the throbbing was already fading to a dull ache. “I... guess it’s not that bad,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Told you,” Glen said with a wink, leaning back against the counter. “You just needed a cowboy-slash-surgeon to handle it.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re dramatic,” he shot back, his grin playful.

But as she looked at him, standing there with that easy confidence and those steady hands that had just taken care of her without a second thought, her heart did a little flip. There was something about the way he’d stepped in, so calm and capable, that made her feel... safe.

“Thanks, Glen,” she said softly, her voice catching slightly.

His teasing smirk softened into something warmer. “Anytime, Gabby.”

Gabby lingered there, cradling her bandaged hand against her chest as she watched Glen. He had gone back to tidying up the counter, wiping away the faint smear of blood as if patching her up had been no big deal. But to her, it had been a very big deal. He’d been calm when she wasn’t, steady when she was spiraling. She bit her bottom lip, her heart doing a funny little flip in her chest.

This man—this steady, confident, infuriatingly charming man—was becoming so much more to her than she’d anticipated. It wasn’t just the way he’d taken care of her tonight. It was everything about him—the way he teased her, the way he made her laugh, the way he somehow always seemed to know exactly what to say to settle her nerves. She realized then, with startling clarity, that she didn’t just like Glen. She really liked him. She maybe even loved him.

And that thought scared her. Because if this didn’t work out—if she let herself fall for him completely and it all went wrong—she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pick up the pieces.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice him turn back to her until his voice broke through.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, his tone soft, his hazel eyes glinting with curiosity. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She blinked, realizing she’d been staring, and felt heat rush to her cheeks. Before she could come up with a quick excuse, Glen stepped closer, his hands finding their way to her waist. He pulled her gently toward him, the warmth of his touch grounding her in a way that made her heart thud even harder.

“Well?” he prompted, tilting his head as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “What’s on your mind, Gabby?”

She smiled up at him, her fingers brushing lightly against the front of his shirt, where she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric. “I think…” She hesitated, her smile softening as her eyes met his. “I think I’m in trouble.”

Glen’s brows furrowed, and the humor faded from his expression, replaced by something more serious. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice quieter now, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Gabby bit her lip again, her gaze flicking down to her hand resting on his chest. Her thumb moved absently over the fabric as she searched for the right words. “I mean… I like you, Glen,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like, really like you. And that scares me, because if this doesn’t work out…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “If this doesn’t work, I don’t think I’ll walk away unscathed.”

For a moment, Glen didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, his eyes searching hers, his hands steady on her waist. Then, his grip tightened just slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirked into a small, reassuring smile.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and warm, “then it’s a good thing I don’t plan on letting this not work out.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, the fear she’d been holding onto melted away under the weight of his words and the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.

And maybe, just maybe, falling for Glen wasn’t as scary as it seemed.

Glen’s gaze softened as he searched her face, his hands tightening slightly at her waist, pulling her just a little closer. The air between them felt heavier, charged with a warmth that made Gabby’s chest ache in the best way. Then, without another word, he leaned down and kissed her.

It was soft at first, almost tentative, as if he was testing the waters. But when her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and she kissed him back, he deepened it, his hands sliding from her waist to cradle her face. Time seemed to stand still as the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of them in the quiet hum of the kitchen.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his lips curling into a smile. “For the record,” he said, his voice low and rough, “I really, really like you too.”

Gabby laughed softly, her hands still fisted in his shirt as her cheeks flushed. “You better,” she teased, her voice light despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

Glen kissed her again, quick and firm, before stepping back and brushing his thumb against her jaw. “Alright,” he said, his tone returning to that easy confidence she knew so well, “you should probably take it easy after that serious injury of yours. I’ll finish up dinner.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she tilted her head at him. “It’s a cut, Glen. I’m not a war hero coming home from battle.”

“Uh-huh,” he said with a smirk, wiping his hands on a towel. “And yet, you looked ready to pass out ten minutes ago.”

“I did not,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes.

Glen chuckled, stepping closer again. “Sure, tough girl. Go sit down in the living room before I have to carry you there myself.”

Gabby raised a brow, her lips quirking into a challenge. “You wouldn’t dare.”

His smirk widened. “Wouldn’t I?”

Before she could retort, Glen moved fast, his arms wrapping around her as he effortlessly hoisted her over his shoulder.

“Glen!” she shrieked, laughing despite herself as she kicked her legs in protest. “Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, his tone utterly unapologetic as he carried her toward the living room. “You had your chance to go willingly.”

“This isn’t fair!” she exclaimed, her fists playfully hitting his back as she squirmed. “I can’t fight back when you’re manhandling me like this!”

“That’s the idea,” he said with a laugh, adjusting her weight slightly as if she weighed nothing. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”

“Next time? Oh, you’re dreaming, cowboy,” she shot back, kicking her feet again for good measure.

Glen only laughed harder as he reached the couch. With a careful yet exaggerated flourish, he set her down, smirking down at her as she fixed him with a mock glare.

“Comfortable?” he asked innocently, crossing his arms and leaning slightly to one side as if daring her to challenge him again.

Gabby folded her arms and leaned back against the cushions with an exaggerated huff, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” Glen shot back, his grin as smug as ever. “Now stay there while I finish dinner. Doctor’s orders.”

Gabby rolled her eyes again, but this time it was accompanied by a laugh as she watched him head back toward the kitchen. 

“You’re not a doctor! Have you ever even played one?” She teased. But as much as she hated to admit it, being taken care of by Glen—and teased in the process—felt a little too good.

About fifteen minutes later, Gabby was curled up on the couch, idly scrolling through her phone as the sound of clinking dishes and the occasional hum of Glen’s voice drifted in from the kitchen. The scent of seasoned chicken and warm tortillas filled the air, making her stomach growl in anticipation.

When Glen finally appeared, he was carrying two plates balanced perfectly in his large hands. The sight of him—a little more relaxed now, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and that easy grin on his face—made her heart do an annoyingly giddy flip.

“Dinner is served,” he said, setting one plate down in front of her before placing his own on the coffee table.

Gabby smiled, sitting up a little straighter and taking the plate. “Thank you, Chef Glen. Smells amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his grin widening as he straightened up. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want anything?”

She hesitated for a moment, looking down at her plate, then back up at him. “Sure. Surprise me.”

“Alright,” he said with a wink, heading back toward the kitchen.

A minute later, he returned with two glasses—one filled with iced tea for her and the other with what looked like a cold beer for himself. He set hers down on the coffee table next to her plate before sinking onto the couch beside her, the cushions dipping under his weight.

“There you go,” he said, nodding toward the glass. “Extra ice, just how you like it.”

Gabby raised a brow at him, her lips tugging into a smile. “You remembered that?”

“Of course I did,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “I’ve got a good memory when it comes to important things.”

Her smile softened as she picked up the glass, the cold condensation pressing against her fingers. “Thank you,” she said quietly, looking over at him as her heart did that fluttery thing again.

He glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”

“For…” She paused, taking a sip of the tea before setting it down and shrugging. “For taking care of me. For being you, I guess.”

Glen’s lips curved into a slow smile, and he leaned back against the couch, one arm resting along the back as his eyes stayed on her. “Well, I like taking care of you,” he said simply.

Gabby laughed softly, shaking her head as she picked up her taco. The two of them settled into a comfortable rhythm, sharing bites of food and bits of conversation between mouthfuls. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the living room, blending with the soft hum of the evening.

And as Gabby sat there beside him, eating chicken tacos on the couch like they’d done it a hundred times before, she couldn’t help but feel like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

As the last of their tacos disappeared, Gabby leaned back into the couch, setting her empty plate on the coffee table with a satisfied sigh. Glen did the same, stretching his legs out in front of him, his socked feet brushing against hers.

“Okay,” she said, wiping her hands on a napkin. “I’ll admit it—those tacos were amazing. You’ve officially ruined takeout for me.”

Glen smirked, leaning his head back against the couch. “High praise. I’ll take it.”

She gave him a playful nudge with her foot, which he caught with his, trapping it gently between his. For a moment, the room was quiet except for the faint creak of the house settling and the soft clinking of their glasses on the table.

Then, Glen tilted his head toward her, his expression thoughtful. “What do you say we change into something more comfortable? Get cozy for the rest of the night?”

Gabby arched a brow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Are you trying to call it a night already? It’s barely past eight, old man.”

“Nah,” he said with an easy grin. “Not saying we need to sleep. Just thought we could ditch the jeans and get into some pajamas or sweats. You know—real comfort.”

He pushed off the couch, offering her a hand to help her up. “Go ahead and get changed and I’ll met you in my room in ten.”

Gabby took his hand but didn’t move right away, giving him an exaggeratedly confused look. “Your room? I thought we were sleeping separately tonight. Wasn’t I supposed to take the guest room?”

For a moment, Glen’s entire face fell. His hand remained in hers, but his shoulders sagged as he stared at her, completely speechless—a rare thing for him.

Her grin widened as she shoved his chest lightly and stood. “Relax, cowboy,” she said with a laugh. “I’m joking. You should’ve seen your face, though!”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his lips twitching like he was fighting a grin. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she said, still chuckling as she headed toward her overnight bag by the door. “But you like it.”

“Mm-hm,” he called after her, his voice laced with amusement. “You better sleep with one eye open tonight.”

Gabby just laughed, already thinking about how his expression would probably replay in her head for the rest of the evening.

Gabby smirked over her shoulder, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Ooh, I’m so scared of you,” she teased, winking before turning on her heel and heading toward the hallway.

She could practically hear him smirking behind her. “You should be,” Glen’s voice followed, playful but low. He was already on her tail, footsteps steady but quick, matching her pace.

Before she could even make it halfway down the hall, she felt his hands slip around her waist, his strong arms locking around her like a vice. With an effortless move, Glen lifted her off the ground, spinning her around so that she was facing him, her feet dangling slightly.

“What the—? Glen!” Gabby let out a surprised laugh, her hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders to steady herself. She playfully kicked her legs, trying to wiggle free.

He grinned, his voice a teasing whisper. “Told you to sleep with one eye open.”

Her legs kicked out in mock protest, and she gave his chest a soft shove, but she wasn’t really trying to escape. “It’s not fair,” she muttered, pretending to glare up at him, “that you can manhandle me like this.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You love it.”

“I do not,” she shot back quickly, even though the warmth blooming in her chest said otherwise.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed as he slowly lowered her back to her feet, but kept his arms around her. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

Gabby bit her lip to stop herself from grinning too wide, but it didn’t work. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but there was no malice in the words—just affection.

“You’ve got that right.” His grin softened, and he leaned in to kiss her temple, a quick, tender moment before he nudged her toward the hallway again. “Now, go get changed. I’ll be in my room.”