Hi, hello, hey there! Im Dr. Glorbiez, or just Glorbiez idk. Welcome to my account! Down below is some information i tried to compact so it isn’t that long of a read. If you don’t wanna read it anyway, i beg of you just read the DNI or my pronouns/about me part if you’re staying for a bit (anything bolded is important info!)
About me!
- I am currently a minor, so i am actively in school! Art posts are no where near consistent, and i apologize for that. I am trying to get better at it :p
-I post art and stupid thoughts for The Outsiders! By far my favorite book and has stuck with me for a while, and hopefully for a lot longer.
-I go strictly by he/they pronouns, please keep that in mind when interacting with me!
-I am lgbt and lgbt friendly! I try to stay open-minded and keep this a safe space!
-I have four cats! My oldest is Million Dollars (Milly), Maximum Power (Max), Ruby Gloom (Ruby), and Steve Randle! He’s just known as Steve though :p
-i do not tolerate ANY use of slurs or ai. If i accidentally reblog something with a slur or ai “content” PLEASE kindly let me know and i will take it down as soon as possible!! That being said, do not use any slurs to refer to me or others, as i am WILDLY uncomfortable with it
-Fandom DNI; Anti-shippers (ranging from stevepop to jally or johnnyboy) , anyone who is anti-Dally, anyone who is anti-Bob, anyone who is anti-anyone really, proshippers, curtiscest shippers, basically anyone who doesn’t have fandom etiquette!!
❗️ i block freely! Anyone who disrespects me or my moots for any reason will be blocked! I want this a safe space where me and my fellow outsiders fans can come together and be silly about the characters and the story! Harassment of any kind will not be tolerated in any shape or form ❗️
Commissions?
Nope! I’m sorry to say that i don’t do commissions and don’t really plan to! It’s mostly because i don’t feel im at the level of artist-ish to be taking/asking for money, and also just privacy/personal things i don’t feel comfortable with.
HOWEVERRR, i DO take art requests! They’re no different to me, it’s just that i do your art for free! And in return i get the flattery that is someone asking for my artwork. If it’s fandom related, you can drop your request in my ask box or dms! If it’s an oc/general art thing, you can go and drop it in my @mr-glorbiezzz art account! Again, ask box or dm is cool!
I should note though, that i am still im school, and will be for a bit. So, i may not be able to do your request immediately or get it done the quickest! Butt!! It will inevitably get done!! I promise!
Where else can you find me?
As of right now, i am not posting on tiktok! I DOO have a Pinterest that i plan to post things on so be on the lookout for that 👀👀 i don’t have any other social media, so don’t expect a twitter account or anything like that :p
I ALSSSSOOOO have other accounts on tumblr if you’d like to follow!! My oc account (as mentioned above) is @mr-glorbiezzz , and my sewing, embroidery, etc blog is @ifedmyselflies!
My Artwork!
This section is just showing off my art work i have doen recently, i update this every so often to make sure my art style is shown at its best!
Finallyyyyy, how should you refer to me?
i actually don’t mind any nicknames you make up for me, OR using the nicknames i already have!
- Glorpus (moot coined)
-Glorbiez (my actual name)
-Doctor (less common, still funny)
-The oc guy (im insane about ocs)
- Big G (coined by the @1000000000000203miniglorps i have)
I am Jaafar from Gaza. I am currently in northern Gaza, and we have not yet been displaced to the south. Things are very difficult here — the cost of moving to the south is $1,000, and a single tent also costs $1,000, if we can even find a place in southern Gaza. The south is overcrowded, and renting a plot of land costs $1,000 per month, or even more depending on the area. 🙂😢
I started a donation campaign in the middle of the war and received good support, but due to personal circumstances, I recently created a new link, and unfortunately, I have only received a small amount of donations so far. 😓💔 I appeal to you to help me with my new campaign and donate whatever you can 🥺😭. Every amount you give will save the lives of my family and me and may help us cover the cost of moving to southern Gaza! 😓 Thank you, and I pray that God blesses you and provides for you 🧡🫂
Here is the donation link ⬇️**
Hello, my name is Elizabeth Barnes and I am a US citizen organizing this campaign on behalf of my friend Jaafar, who is raising funds to sup
My name is Hussam. I am a father, a husband… and I am trying to keep my family alive. 💔
Before the war, we lived a simple, peaceful life in Gaza. My wife and I were raising our six children—four boys, one girl, and our baby daughter who had not yet turned one. Our home was small, but it was full of laughter, warmth, and love. 🏡❤️
Then, in a single moment, everything was gone.
Airstrikes destroyed our home. The walls that once protected my children turned into rubble. I still remember the sound… the fear in their eyes… the way they held onto me as we ran for our lives. I couldn’t take anything with me—only my family. 😢💥
Now, we live in a fragile tent in a refugee camp. ⛺
The cold does not wait. The wind enters from every side. At night, my children cannot sleep—not because of noise, but because of hunger. My baby daughter cries in my arms, and I have nothing to give her. No milk. No warmth. Only empty hands and a broken heart. 🥶👶💔
As a father, this is the deepest pain—to see your children suffer and feel helpless.
Every day is a battle. I search for food. I try to keep our tent standing. I try to protect my children from sickness, fear, and despair. I am doing everything I can… but it is not enough. 😔
I need your help.
I want to be honest with you: during my last fundraising campaign, I was scammed. At a time when we had nothing, we lost even more. It broke me—but I refused to give up on my children. ⚠️💔
Now, I have created a new campaign with the help of a trusted friend, so your support can safely reach my family. I am asking you from my heart—please give us another chance. 🤝
Your help can save my children. 🙏
Even a small donation can mean: 🍞 Food for my hungry children
🍼 Milk for my baby daughter
💊 Medicine when we are sick
🧣 Blankets to survive the cold nights
Please, my friends… do not turn away.
If you cannot donate, please share my story. Your share could reach someone who can help save my family. 📢
Hussam is a father, a husband and a survivor.
From a father who is trying not to lose everything
Real talk with glorbiez woah crazy and scary i know (aka slight vent, just me putting my thoughts into words)
I genuinely don’t think i’d be too stressed getting a job or doing huge volunteer work, just because i feel horribly trapped as of late
Don’t get me wrong, i love being at home as much as the next person, but it gets so unbelievably repetitive and lonely. Like i have no one to talk to or be with besides my parents and my sister (who i don’t even really like). It’s hard to make plans with friends because i usually have to be the one reaching out, and i love them, but it gets tiring playing ringleader to make sure our plans actually get SOMEWHERE outside of our little messages.
I know getting a job or volunteer work would inevitably be another repetitive cycle that i’d get tired of later on, but it’s genuinely so much better than being at home with the expectation to remain happy and mentally sane. Im not the most outgoing person, but i still need time out in the wild with other people.
I would feel bad because my parents need to drive me places because i haven’t even STARTED learning how to drive, but my constant anxiety over everything has gotten insanely better so maybe it won’t be a problem? Idk i think the whole summation of this post is that i want a job because being cooped up in this house is gonna make my mental health get SO MUCH WORSE
a/n: my first multichap that i'm uploading here 😱 and my first darbit fic! this has been on my ao3 for a couple of days but i wanted it here too as im almost done chapter two :)
summary: Darry's surprised when Two-Bit shows up unexpectedly at his second job. He's even more surprised by what his friend asks him after his shift.
includes: everyone lives/no one dies, dance teacher!darry, dirty dancing inspired, clueless boys in love
find it on ao3 here
find chapter 2 here (not out yet!)
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“So, what's your second job? You know, when you're not roofing?”
It was a question that Darry was accustomed to if not exactly fond of. He did work two jobs, but the one he poured the most amount of time into was his roofing gig: it was hands-on, honest work, and the pay wasn't half bad either. That was what he did most days, up at the crack of crack to hoist himself onto some rich person’s roof and fix it up real nice. After hours, though, was when he’d go to what was referred to as his “mystical unknown second job”.
Purposefully, not a single member of the gang, not even his brothers, knew what his job was. All that they knew was that when he got home from his day fixing roofs, he'd come home, take a shower, grab a mysterious bag and mosey on out to the car. He was pretty sure there were bets going on what he did on the side: he'd heard jokes (mostly from Two-Bit) that he was secretly a stripper or a hooker, and he let those quips continue if only to keep people distracted. They weren't horribly off track, anyway, because Darry’s second job was teaching dance.
He had done ballet when he was very young, courtesy of his mother and her aim to let the kids try and do something that interested them. As a child, he had decided that all he wanted to do was dance– and now here he was.
Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays he taught classes down at a little studio on the west side of town. Most of the classes were filled with teen-aged Soc girls who would giggle and blush when he corrected their form, or alternatively, older women who came in to gawk at him under the guise of cardio. He was technically still getting their hearts pumping, he supposed, but he much preferred the rare student who was truly passionate about dance and not just there to stare slack-jawed at his physique.
The only real problem he had found was the gossip.
The whole point of not telling the gang what he did was so they wouldn't poke fun at him when they knew, and he was good at keeping it from them. Still, he had no control over what was said by the giggling high school girls who seemed to do nothing but twitter and gossip like chickadees, or the older women who also happened to be customers at the DX just so they could stop and chat to a pretty face– more often than not, Sodapop– about their lives. It was hard not to jump to conclusions when someone was regaling you with stories of their painfully attractive dance teacher who only worked when Darry was at his second job, who drove a beat-up pickup truck towards the east side after class every night, and who was conspicuously named Darrel Curtis.
So what did he do to get past the problem? He reduced the number of things that people could trace back to him. At work, he tied up his hair, something he rarely ever did at home. He always changed into his dancing clothes at the studio– just a loose pair of black athletic pants and a matching tee shirt, but he wanted to be careful– parked a few blocks away so no one could pinpoint exactly where he went after class, and most importantly, decided on using his middle name when he taught classes. Darrel Curtis was easy to track down, but Shaynne, who tied his hair back and lived close enough to walk home from the studio, was an enigma.
It was a lot of work, yes, but sometimes it was almost fun for Darry to escape the reality of who he was. It reminded him of when he'd been on the football team in high school, rubbing elbows with Socs and eating dinner at Paul’s home while conveniently 'forgetting’ to grease his hair. When he was Shaynne, he could be someone that wasn't judged simply by which side of the tracks he lived on, and for that he was grateful.
So here he was, on a Thursday night, changing into his dance clothes while he waited for his students to arrive. He had taken a chance with this shift and accepted the offer to teach a trial class for a few kids. He wasn't the most experienced at teaching children, but he knew enough about elementary ballet to be the studio’s first choice for the role, and it paid. At least the kids would be less infatuated with him.
Darry made his way out into the studio, slipping on his dancing shoes. Tying up his hair in the big mirror, he hummed a tune to himself. He was in the mood for choreographing a little something for himself to practice for fun. Upbeat voices carried through the open door that led to the lobby, and he checked the clock: maybe twenty minutes until class started. He got to stretching, doing a little warmup while he waited. The trial class was for seven to ten-year-olds, so he figured he might appreciate the warmup before they got in and inevitably fell to chaos. He was just seeing how far he could push his side splits when a voice, all too familiar, broke the silence.
“Jeez, Brenda, the sign says it’s this way so we're gonna go this way!” Two sets of footsteps drew close to the open door, and Darry didn't even have time to react before Two-Bit and his kid sister entered the room. “Hey, is this where I drop my sister for dance–” The boy noticed who exactly was in the room, and his jaw dropped. “Darry?!”
Slipping out of the splits, Darry felt his face flush. “Shaynne,” he said weakly. “In here it's Shaynne.”
Two-Bit let out a long, low whistle. “So… dance? That's your other job?” His voice betrayed a hint of suppressed laughter, and Darry resisted the urge to hope it might not be a scornful one.
“Yep,” he said simply, pushing himself up from the floor and checking the clock on the wall. 5:25; five minutes until class.
Five minutes to do damage control.
He gave Two-Bit’s sister a little smile. “Brenda, honey, you think you could do me a favour? Why don't you go on out in the hall and put your dance shoes on, and if you see any other kids, you can show them where to go.” The girl nodded and scurried off to do just that, leaving Darry to turn to his friend. “Two,” he started, but the other boy cut him off.
“You don't gotta explain it to me. Whatever pays the bills, right? I get it.”
Darry could've sworn his shoulders relaxed by a whole two inches, just from hearing that. “You won't tell anyone?”
His friend gave him a strange look. “I dunno why I'd be tellin’ anyone about your perfectly respectable job, especially when I had money on you workin’ the pole.”
The laugh that Darry barked out surprised him enough that he nearly clapped a hand over his own mouth to silence it. “Man, with some of the classes I teach, it sure feels like it. You might still get that money.”
Two-Bit opened his mouth to speak just as Brenda stuck her head into the room. “There's a ton of kids out here,” she called, scuffing the toe of her dancing shoe along the ground.
Darry immediately switched into work mode. “Right. OK, Two, go on and wait in the hall. It'll be about an hour, but I can give you and Brenda a ride home after.”
“Thanks, Dar– uh, Shaynne,” Two-Bit called on his way out, dodging the kids dressed in haphazard dancewear as they filed into the studio. Darry shot him a grateful smile before clapping his hands to get the kids’ attention.
“Alright, everyone, my name's Mr. Shaynne. Any of y'all been to dance class before?”
As they got through the warmup and Darry started teaching a simple routine, he could feel Two-Bit’s gaze on his back. Once or twice they made eye contact when Darry would demonstrate a turn, and each time the other boy would duck his head and look away, which left Darry equal parts amused and bewildered.
When the class finally came to an end with a chorus of “thank you, Mr. Shaynne!” from the kids, he sat himself down to grab a sip of water before leaving. He watched from the floor as Brenda and one of her friends waylaid Two-Bit with the idea of a sleepover, which he agreed to on the condition that Brenda called their mother from the friend’s house to let her know.
Once everyone had left, Two-Bit wandered in from the hall, parking himself beside Darry on the floor. “You were really good,” he said, seemingly fixated on some spot on the wall across the room. “You said that ain't the only kind of dance you do?”
Darry swallowed his water and nodded. “I really only agreed to get back into ballet for the kids. I got other styles I like loads better.”
A little grin crept onto Two-Bit’s face. “Oh, yeah? You any good?”
“I been told as much,” Darry laughed. Two-Bit snatched the water bottle from his hands, taking a sip before speaking.
“Why don't ya show me whatcha got then, Shaynne?”
Golly. Darry’s stomach fluttered. He guessed it was because of the nerves associated with the idea of dancing in front of someone he knew, let alone his best friend. Jesus, why had Two-Bit said his name like that? He pushed himself up off the floor and headed over to the collection of music, looking for the record he'd been thinking about earlier. “You're lucky I had an idea for a combo today.”
“Sure am.” Two-Bit took another sip of water as Darry set up the music and walked to the centre of the room, shaking out his limbs as he went. The song began to play. Darry took a deep breath and let the music take over.
It was one of those combos that translated perfectly from the mind to the body. Any kind of self-consciousness Darry had felt before was gone, carried away by the song’s velvety bass line and the easy, lazy way he swung his hips. He wasn't ashamed to say that he went all-out with the moves instead of marking them: Two-Bit’s teasing left him determined to blow his friend away with this dance. Besides, it felt good for him to be able to dance the way he wanted to.
As the song drew to an end, he moved back towards the centre of the room. The singer begged one more time for his girl to “please, stay!” and Darry finished with a drop to the floor and a pose. OK, maybe it was a little dramatic, but the stunned expression on Two-Bit’s face made it more than worth it.
For a minute there was no sound except the record playing out. Darry caught his breath before his friend finally spoke up, jaw dropped. “Holy shit, man.” He laughed, totally stunned. “Who knew you could do that?!”
Darry ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. “It ain't that good. I only came up with that a little earlier.”
“Oh, yeah, just a little something from earlier,” Two-Bit sputtered. “That definitely explains why my best friend can suddenly dance better than Elvis!”
Turning off the big studio light, Darry laughed. “Hey, don't insult Elvis like that.” The two of them headed outside and walked to Darry’s truck. When he started the ignition, the vehicle rumbled to life, Patsy Cline quietly leaking from the radio. Two-Bit was uncharacteristically quiet, drumming along with the song on the dashboard before finally speaking up.
“Hey, you think you could teach me to dance like that?”
Darry smirked, a little surprised. “You tryin’ to impress someone?”
“Somethin’ like that.” Two-Bit stared out the window absentmindedly.
Darry shrugged as he slowed to a stop in front of Two-Bit’s house, idling by the curb. “Well, I got class on Saturday mornin’ at nine, so why don't you come by the studio at eleven and I'll see what I can do.” He smiled at his friend, who grinned back.
