#but i feel like the wrong things are being focused on

[rootedinrevisions]

Since Forever

SUMMARY: After a harrowing near-death experience in the sky when a routine training exercise goes wrong, you and Jake are forced to confront the unspoken tension that's always simmered between you. With a crash landing and a moment that changes everything, the line between squadmates and something more begins to blur.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in! I'm sorry it's been like 3 weeks since you sent it in, but hopefully, it's worth the wait! Hope you enjoy it! xx

WARNINGS: Angst, Mutual Pining, Plane Crash (Smoke, Impact, Head Injury, Blood), Cussing

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The dry California air carried the hum of activity on the tarmac, the heat shimmering in waves off the asphalt as you stood in your flight suit, clipboard in hand. The roar of jets echoed in the background, a familiar symphony you’d grown accustomed to over the years. North Island was as bustling as ever, a mix of old faces and new ones prepping for the upcoming training exercises.

You were focused on your pre-flight checks, meticulously going over every detail on your clipboard. Attention to detail had always been your strong suit, something that had earned you respect in the cockpit and plenty of snide comments from one particular squad mate.

“Still babysitting that clipboard, Ace?”

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Jake “Hangman” Seresin’s voice was unmistakable—smooth, cocky, and always laced with that infuriating Texan drawl.

“Still babysitting your ego, Bagman?” you shot back without missing a beat, your eyes remaining on your checklist.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him saunter closer, his helmet tucked under one arm, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Jake had a way of walking that oozed confidence, like he owned every space he entered. It was both maddening and, if you were honest with yourself, slightly impressive.

“Touché,” he drawled, stopping a few feet away. “But seriously, Ace, you’ve been doing this long enough to know the damn thing’s not going to sprout wings and fly off without you.”

You finally glanced up, arching a brow at him. “Says the guy who spent fifteen minutes arguing with the crew chief yesterday about the ‘perfect’ alignment of his seat harness.”

“That’s called being thorough,” Jake replied, unfazed. “You should try it sometime.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to your jet. “Is there something you actually need, or are you just here to be a pain in my ass?”

Jake’s grin widened. “Can’t a guy check in on his favorite squad mate?”

“Favorite?” you echoed, snorting. “You must be losing your touch, Hangman. Last time I checked, I was the one gunning for top marks on this run.”

“That’s what makes you my favorite,” he said smoothly, his tone dropping just enough to make your stomach do a small, unwelcome flip.

You hated how he could do that—how he could make the simplest comment sound like it was loaded with a thousand unspoken things. It was part of the tension that had simmered between you two for years, a strange, undefined thing neither of you had ever acknowledged out loud.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” you replied, setting your clipboard down. “I’ve got a jet to fly, and you’ve got an ego to stroke somewhere else.”

Jake tilted his head, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “Careful, Ace. One of these days, that sharp tongue of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

You stepped closer, narrowing your eyes at him as you adjusted the strap on your helmet. “And one of these days, Seresin, you’re going to realize that not everyone is impressed by your southern charm.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a standoff, the air crackling with the kind of tension that was all too familiar between the two of you. Then Jake stepped back, a soft chuckle escaping him as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Fair enough,” he said, his grin still firmly in place. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He turned and started walking toward his jet, his gait as cocky as ever. You shook your head, exhaling slowly as you tried to refocus on the task at hand.

Damn him.

Even now, years after you’d first met, Jake Seresin still had the ability to get under your skin in a way no one else could. And despite the irritation bubbling in your chest, you couldn’t entirely shake the small, secret part of you that liked it.

* * * *

The sky was a perfect blue—no clouds, just an endless expanse stretching out in front of you. It was supposed to be a simple exercise, just another day in the air, but your instincts had been nagging at you all morning. Something felt off.

You were flying at full throttle, running through the mission parameters, your fingers lightly grazing the controls as you focused on the task at hand. In the distance, you could see Jake’s jet—smooth and precise, cutting through the air just like always. You kept your distance, the tension between you two still palpable, even miles above the earth.

Then, without warning, the engine sputtered.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, eyes flicking to the gauges. The warning lights blinked red, and your stomach dropped like a stone. The engine—your primary engine—locked up.

“Ace, you copy?” The crackling voice of your Captain came through your comms, sharp and urgent. “What’s your status?”

You took a steadying breath, trying to keep your pulse under control. The jet was starting to lose altitude, slowly at first, but it wasn’t going to be slow for long.

“Engine’s locked,” you said, voice tight. You glanced down at your instruments again, hoping for a miracle. “I’m losing power. Going down.”

 Jake’s voice exploded through your earpiece. “Don’t do anything stupid, Ace. You hear me? Eject if you have to!”

The words felt like a slap in the face. He was always the first one to play the hero, always telling you what to do like you were some rookie.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Seresin,” you snapped, teeth gritting as you struggled to maintain control. You banked hard to the left, trying to level out, but the jet was sluggish—too sluggish. It was dropping faster now, and the ground was coming up at you way too quickly. “I’m not ejecting.”

“I said—” Jake’s voice broke through again, but you could already hear the Captain cutting him off.

“Ace, listen to me. You have two options right now,” the Captain said, his tone firm, no room for negotiation. “Eject, or try to bring her in. But you don’t have much altitude left.”

You had a split second to make a choice. The sky was shrinking, the earth creeping closer with every heartbeat. Your mind raced—ejecting would be easy, sure. But it would cost you the plane, and it would mean another mission down the drain. And there was always that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you had to rely on someone else to pull you from the wreckage.

You focused, blocking out the voices in your comms, focusing on the controls, on what you could do.

You had one good engine. It wasn’t ideal, but you had just enough altitude to make a hard landing. If you timed it right.

“I’m landing this bird,” you said, your voice steely with determination. You could feel the sweat building under your helmet, your pulse pounding in your ears, but your hands were steady. “I’ve got this.”

“Ace!” Jake’s voice came again, a mix of frustration and panic threading through his words. “You don’t have the altitude—”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you cut him off, your jaw clenched as you took a deep breath. The ground was closing in fast now, the harsh reality of the situation crashing over you. You had seconds to decide how you were going to do this. You could almost hear your heartbeat in your throat as you worked the throttle, pushing the remaining engine to its limits.

“Ace, eject now!” Jake was practically shouting now, but you didn’t have the time to argue. You were already lining up the rough terrain, calculating the risks in your head. You’d done it before—this was just another challenge to overcome. “If you crash—”

“I said I’ve got this!” you growled, pushing the throttle forward and making a last-ditch effort to pull the jet back into some semblance of control.

The sound of the engine was sickening now, almost wheezing, but it was still holding on. You could feel the nose of the plane dip, and you knew it was time. There was no turning back now.

You aimed for the small strip of flat ground, mentally calculating the distance between you and the crash site, praying to every deity that you could pull this off.

The jet dropped faster.

Your stomach lurched.

You could hear the voices of your team—your Captain—fading in the background, their instructions turning into static. All you could hear now was the roar of the engine, your breath, and the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.

And then the wheels hit the earth. It was harder than you expected. The jet groaned under the strain, the fuselage screeching as you fought for control. The wheels bounced once, twice, and the jet jerked to the side as you fought the controls with everything you had left. The impact was brutal. You slammed into the seat, the world going black for a split second before your mind jolted back into reality.

Your head throbbed, a sharp pain searing behind your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but everything felt off. Dizzy. The pain was sharp, but you couldn’t focus on it now.

Your hands still gripped the controls like you were trying to hold the whole world together. You could feel the tension in your neck, the tremor in your hands.

And then, the voice you hadn’t realized you were waiting for came through your comms, strained and desperate:

“Ace, talk to me. Are you okay?”

You were silent for a moment, trying to find your bearings. The crash had knocked the wind out of you, but you had to focus. You had to focus.

“I’m... fine,” you gritted out. Your vision was blurry, your head swimming, but you needed to keep it together. “I just need to—”

The world went black for a few moments. The crash had been rough, everything moving too fast, and then you were suddenly weightless, disoriented, and struggling to remember how you had even ended up in this situation. The impact had jarred you, rattling your body so hard you weren’t sure which way was up. The cockpit was filled with smoke, the once-pristine view of the sky now replaced by the harsh, metallic scent of burning fuel.

You could hear the sounds of the control tower in your headset, distant voices now muffled and indistinct. Your head throbbed, dizziness clouding your thoughts. Something was wrong—you were wrong—but the panic started to subside as your mind tried to latch onto something, anything familiar.

The sound of a plane's engines revving pierced the air, and that was when you realized you weren’t alone anymore. Jake's voice cut through the haze.

"Stay with me, Ace, I’m almost there" he barked, his tone uncharacteristically sharp, the usual cocky bravado gone. His voice was full of urgency, tight with a level of fear you hadn’t expected to hear.

You managed to open your eyes, the world around you spinning, but through the haze, you saw his plane descending in the distance—he was landing, landing without permission. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing he was disregarding protocol to get to you.

Within seconds, Jake's jet was on the ground, its wheels screeching as it touched down, and he was already sprinting toward you. There was no waiting for rescue teams, no giving orders. It was just him, and you.

Your chest was tight, your breath shallow, and for a brief moment, you wondered if it was all just a nightmare. Then, through the haze of your spinning mind, Jake’s face appeared—his eyes wide, his expression frantic as he reached the wreckage.

Without hesitation, he pulled open the hatch, the cockpit door groaning under the force. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste a second. He carefully pulled your helmet off of you. His eyes moving to the blood that was caused from the impact. His hands then started working to undo your harness, fingers shaking as he snapped the straps free, pulling you into his arms before you could even comprehend what was happening.

His breath was frantic, like he was holding it in, waiting for some kind of confirmation that you were really there. That you were still alive. And in that moment, as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, the world started to stabilize. Your breath came in shaky gasps, your head pounding as the dizziness slowly began to fade.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from your brain. The weight of your body felt heavier than normal, your limbs still stiff from the crash. But it wasn’t just your body that felt like it was slowing down—it was your mind. Everything was racing too fast, the adrenaline still pushing you into action, but in Jake’s arms, there was a moment of stillness. A second where nothing mattered but the fact that you were safe.

"Don’t you ever do that again," Jake muttered, his voice trembling despite the tough exterior he always wore. His words hit you harder than any of the physical pain, and you felt a strange, overwhelming wave of emotion rush through you. It was as though all the walls you’d both built over the years had crumbled with one unspoken truth. Jake was scared, and in this moment, it wasn’t about flying, or missions, or protocols. It was about you.

You barely registered that you were leaning into him, your chest falling against his as you came back to yourself, your body reacting without thinking, your mind still spinning. His hands were gently running over your back, soothing you, grounding you, even though you could feel the anxiety still vibrating through him.

“J-Jake,” you stuttered.

"I'm here. I’ve got you." His words were a soft mantra, repeated over and over as if he needed to hear them as much as you did.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog. 

“I... I’m fine,” you said, your voice shaky as you pulled away slightly, lifting your head from his chest. But the moment you tried to step back, you felt his arms tighten, keeping you close. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make you stop moving entirely.

“No, you’re not fine,” he shot back, his voice low but full of conviction. His hands still rested on your back, holding you steady, like he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. He wasn’t just holding you. He was holding you like he was terrified of losing you.  “You scared the hell out of me, Ace.”

You swallowed, feeling a weight in your chest you hadn’t been prepared for. The vulnerability in his words was jarring. He had never let his guard down like this before. But there it was—raw, unfiltered concern.

The words stuck in your throat, but somehow you found yourself meeting his gaze, feeling the space between you two close, the tension palpable. 

"Since when did you ever care about me like that?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, more of a breathless thought than anything.

Jake froze, his hand still on your arm as he stared at you, his jaw tight, eyes searching yours. For a moment, the world felt suspended in that one breath between you two. He didn’t back away. Instead, his face softened, his expression caught between frustration and something deeper, something he wasn’t saying.

“Since fucking forever, you idiot,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion, almost a growl.

Jake stepped closer, his hand slipping from your arm to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the skin there in a rare, intimate gesture. The contact sent a jolt through you, and suddenly, nothing about this situation felt like just another close call. This felt like something else entirely. Something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

“I thought I was gonna lose you today,” Jake murmured, his voice low, steady now but still thick with emotion. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “I can’t lose you, Ace. I don’t think I’d make it.”

The weight of his words landed heavily in your chest. The truth between you two was finally out, raw and real. You swallowed, trying to hold back the lump in your throat.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jake,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Not without you.”

Jake sighed and then asked you again, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice softer now. You still felt the ache in your head, the sharp sting in your chest, but it wasn’t nearly as important as the way Jake was looking at you now.

His hands slid down your back, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You could see his jaw clench, the words stuck somewhere between his teeth, and then he shook his head.

“Are you? You sure as hell didn’t look fine in that damn cockpit,” he muttered, his voice low and tight. “You could’ve—You’re the closest thing I’ve got to family out here, Ace," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you." His words were a stark contrast to the cocky bravado he usually carried. This was real, and it was raw. "You don’t get to put me through that again, got it?"

You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast it felt like it might explode in your chest. All the tension, all the unspoken things that had hung between you two for years, were now laid bare in the open. There was no hiding anymore. No pretending like you didn’t feel it, too.

“Jake…” you started, but the words wouldn’t come. 

Instead, you pulled him down into a kiss—soft at first, tentative, but it was as if something broke open between you. You felt the fear, the relief, the longing all tangled up in that moment. His lips moved against yours, a little desperate, a little shaky, but it was real.

When you pulled away, you were both breathing heavy, eyes still locked, both of you trying to process what had just happened.

“I don’t know what this is, Jake,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly.

“I don’t either,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair as if trying to pull himself together.

The words hung between you two, thick with meaning. You didn’t know what was going to happen next, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe you didn’t need to figure it out all at once.

You both stayed there, in the middle of the wreckage, still alive, still here—and for the first time in a long time, that was enough.

But then, all too soon, reality crashes back in.

A voice from outside the cockpit, sharp and professional, cuts through the intimacy of the moment like a splash of cold water.

“Hangman! Ace!” The search and rescue team has arrived, and the urgency in their voice snaps Jake out of his daze. “We need to get them out of there, now. Base is requesting immediate transport.”

Jake pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to steady himself. His hand still lingers on your waist, the warmth of it grounding you, but his eyes betray a hesitation—reluctance to let go of the moment.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here, Ace,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself as much as to you.

You nod, feeling your heart hammering again, but for a different reason now. His gaze softens, and there’s a flash of something unspoken between you—a promise, maybe. You can’t quite find the words for it, but you feel it deep in your bones.

The medics are waiting outside, and with one final, reluctant glance at you, Jake starts to lift you away from the cockpit. With his steady presence, and one arm around your waist, he helps you out of the cockpit.

“Easy now,” he murmurs as he guides you down, keeping you close to his chest as if he can’t bear to let you out of his arms just yet. “Take it slow.”

As soon as your feet touch the ground, the search and rescue team rushes to assist you, but Jake doesn't let go immediately. His fingers linger on your arm, his gaze flicking between you and the team as if he’s weighing something—like he’s not quite ready to leave you in someone else’s hands. He hesitates, looking like he wants to say something, but the team is already ushering you toward the waiting helicopter.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, voice firm.

“Jake, you don’t have to—” you start, but he interrupts, his tone brokering no argument.

“No. I’m staying with you.”

The hum of the helicopter’s blades is loud against your ears, but everything else seems muffled as you lie back on the stretcher, still reeling from the crash and the kiss that’s left a strange warmth in your chest. The medics are busy around you, but you can barely focus on them, your mind still racing, spinning from the events of the last few minutes.

The moment Jake climbs in beside you, his presence fills the space. He doesn't hesitate, sitting down next to your stretcher and taking your hand immediately, his fingers curling around yours like it's the only thing tethering him to reality. His face is tight with worry, but the way he holds your hand gives you a strange sense of comfort, something steady amidst the chaos.

The medics move quickly, checking your vitals and assessing your condition, but you can barely register it, your heart still thumping in your chest as the adrenaline from the crash ebbs away, leaving you exhausted. One of the medics starts to remove your flight suit, carefully peeling it off your shoulders to get a better look at any possible injuries, leaving you in nothing but a thin tank top that clings to your skin.

You feel exposed, vulnerable, as the cool air brushes against your skin. It’s an unsettling feeling, but Jake’s hand is still in yours, and when the medic starts to prod at your ribs, you squeeze his hand instinctively, a shiver running down your spine.

“Hey,” Jake murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he leans in closer, his gaze never leaving you. “Focus on me, okay? Look at me.”

His voice is calm, reassuring, and even though you're still reeling, his presence is grounding you, pulling you out of the haze of discomfort and medical poking. His thumb rubs small circles over the back of your hand as the medic continues his examination, but Jake doesn't flinch. He doesn't pull away.

“Just look at me,,” Jake repeats, his voice steady. “You’re fine. I’m here.”

You manage to meet his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze sends a strange warmth flooding through you, cutting through the nervousness. In this moment, it’s just you and him, as if the rest of the world has faded away. You want to say something—tell him that you're okay, that you don’t need all this attention—but the words get lost in your throat.

Instead, you hold onto him tighter, needing him to keep you tethered, to keep you from feeling so exposed and raw.

The medic moves on to checking your head, and you wince at the touch, the sting of pain making you flinch. Jake immediately leans forward, his hand tightening around yours as he shifts closer.

“Easy, Ace,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. Focus on me. That’s it.”

You nod, trying to focus on his words, trying to push the discomfort and the questions swirling in your mind to the back of your head. His presence is like a lifeline. His voice is the one thing that makes you feel like you’re not alone in this. Like you're not just another casualty.

“Once they’re done poking and prodding, we’re going to get you something strong to drink,” Jake says softly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile as his thumb brushes against your hand once more. “And I’m not talking about water. I’m thinking something a little more... celebratory.”

A part of you wants to laugh, but you're too exhausted, too wired from the whole experience. Still, there's a glimmer of something in Jake’s eyes now, something more than just the mission or the tension between you. There’s something new in his gaze, like a shift, and you feel it too—this unspoken understanding between you both that things are different now.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" you murmur, your voice hoarse from the adrenaline. "One minute, you're flying like a maniac, and the next, you're talking about taking me out for a drink like it's a... date."

Jake’s grin widens slightly, the kind of smile that only happens when he’s completely unguarded. “I’m thinking it’s more than a date, Ace,” he replies, squeezing your hand again. “Maybe it’s a... celebration. You know, to celebrate you not getting yourself killed.”

His tone is playful, but there’s something real behind it, a tenderness that wasn’t there before. Something that’s been waiting to come to the surface for a long time.

The helicopter ride drags on as the medics continue their work, but Jake stays by your side the entire time, never letting go of your hand, his steady presence like a quiet promise that he’s not going anywhere. His words from earlier echo in your mind, and you realize that, for the first time, you don’t feel alone. Not with him here. Not after everything you’ve been through.

When you finally land back at base, you’re still a little shaky, but the thought of what Jake said—of what he hinted at—keeps you grounded, keeps you looking forward to what comes next, whatever that is.

[froggiewrites]

hello i wanted to request a comfort fic with Law,Zoro and Sanji with their s/o being depressed,stressed

thanks in advance

Hi, sorry this took so long! This is the first time I've written a few smaller scenarios instead of one larger fic and I've gotta say, I really enjoyed it. It was a nice change of pace! So thank you for requesting this 😊 I hope this fic brings you the comfort you need, and that you're doing well!!

Hard Times

Pairing: Law, Zoro, Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've not been yourself lately, and he's been worried about you. Warnings: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 1.7k total (a little over 500 each)

It didn’t take him long to notice something was wrong. There was a subtle change in you, something a less observant man would have missed. But you always had his attention, and he knew you well. You were a bit slower to respond, your eyes a bit unfocused, your smile less bright. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that you were just a bit tired, but after the third time of finding you in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, he knew that you needed some more support. He was more than happy to be that support.

Law

Law is a deeply caring man, despite his attempts to appear otherwise, but he is also, unfortunately, terrible at showing it. So he doesn’t talk to you about it, not directly. He instead racks his brain, thinking of every possible way to reduce stress and ways to treat depression. His instinct is to opt for medicine, but he knows he should start smaller first.

“I have a gift for you.” He places it in your hands unceremoniously, trying to hide his delight at your small smile. That’s the most joy you’ve shown in days.

“Thank you, Law! That’s really sweet of you.” You carefully peel back the wrapping paper he had spent far more time than he would admit on, only for your face to show confusion. “A…lamp?”

“A UV lamp.” He says it as though the purpose is obvious.

“Okay?”

“It mimics sunlight.”

You blink at him. “I–you didn’t clarify anything.”

He shifts on his feet, eyes focusing anywhere but you. “We’re down on the seafloor a lot, so you can’t always go on deck for sunlight. And I think some sun will help you.”

Your eyes narrow as you try to put the pieces together. “Why?”

“Sunlight boosts serotonin production.”

You make a soft sound of understanding, before you give him a smirk he would normally hate to admit made his heart skip a beat. “You were worried about me.” You say it like it’s such a victory, like it isn’t something you expected. Clearly he had failed you somehow, if you thought he wasn’t always fretting about you. He typically tries to deny such things, the vulnerability making him feel unsure and small, but you were worth feeling a little weak.

“Of course I was worried about you.” He spits it, like it was so very obvious, and you laugh at him. Normally he would prickle, his defenses growing higher, but that’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in over a week. He would never admit the sound brought a tear to his eye, the relief tearing through him like a hurricane. He can’t help shifting forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he checks to see if you’ve regained the sparkle in your eyes. It’s dim, but it’s there. He can’t resist kissing you.

You accept his warmth quickly and easily. You practically fall into his arms, nuzzling into his neck when your lips part. “You don’t have to worry. I can handle it. It always passes eventually.”

He sighs, kissing the top of your head. “Just because you can handle it on your own doesn’t mean you have to. You aren’t alone in this. You have me. You have the crew. We’re here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

Your voice comes out much quieter this time. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You aren’t.”

“...You promise you’d tell me if I was?”

He chuckles. “I promise.” He gently takes the lamp out of your hand, places it on your desk, and guides you to your bed. “Now tell me everything you need to get off your chest.”

And, to his relief, you do.

Zoro 

Zoro is blunt. He doesn’t know how to dance around your feelings, and frankly, he doesn’t care to. The faster he breaks through your reluctance to tell him what you need, the faster he can help you, and the faster you’ll be happy.

“Why aren’t you asking for help?”

You jump, not having heard him come in, too busy struggling to ground yourself. “What?”

“Something’s wrong. Why haven’t you come to ask for help?” He’s still dripping with sweat, having just come from a particularly intensive workout that was a failed attempt to distract himself until you finally broke and came to him. He can see you try to avoid his eye, so he gently grabs your chin and steers you toward him. He tries to make his voice gentle, sweet in a way he can never quite nail. “Sweetheart, talk to me. I just want to understand.”

You still avoid looking straight at him, even now, but you finally speak. “I…didn’t want to be a burden.”

He can’t hide his obvious confusion. “Huh?”

You finally look at him, not understanding his reaction. “What?”

“Who cares if you’re a burden for a while?”

You look shocked, “I do!”

“Okay, well no one else does! Everyone is a burden sometimes. No one can do everything on their own. The crew’s job is to help each other.”

“None of you guys have ever been a burden.”

“Were we not a burden, or were you just happy to help?”

You open your mouth to argue again, but he can see the exact moment you realize you really have nothing you can say. You can’t deny helping your crew has sometimes made your life harder. He’s seen it countless times. Your Captain alone has gotten you into dozens of situations you could hardly think about without wincing. But you were always happy to help, and a burden shared is a burden halved.

“Everyone here is happy to help you if you need it. All avoiding us does is make us worry.”

You seem to shrink in on yourself. “I’m sorry.”

He pulls you close, chuckling a little at the discontented noise you make when you realize he’s still sweaty. You squirm halfheartedly, but it doesn’t take long before you snuggle into his warmth. He can feel the muscles in your back slowly start to relax under his hands as you accept his touch. “No need for apologies, sweetheart. Just fix it. Talk about it.”

You hold him tight. “I don’t know exactly what I need. Everything’s just…hard. I don’t remember it always being this hard.”

He tries to ignore the way his heart breaks at how pained you sound. He instead focuses on the positives: you’re here, you’re talking, and you’re willing to accept help if it comes. “It won’t be this hard forever. I’ll be right here to make it a little easier, alright? And you can talk to Chopper for some help, too.”

“...Do you think I should?”

“I think that’s up to you. But we’re here. That’s what matters.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Zoro’s arms, and if he sees you sneaking to Chopper’s office later, he doesn’t mention it, though his relieved smile might give him away.

Sanji

Sanji is very in tune with your emotions, often realizing you’re upset before anyone else, and sometimes even before you register it yourself. It’s not uncommon for him to suddenly appear, food and drink in hand, ready to pamper you to your (or, maybe more accurately, his) heart’s content. So you don’t seem to suspect a thing when he starts setting up picnics for you on the deck, each dish carefully prepared to boost serotonin production and the drinks designed to reduce stress and anxiety. You’ve probably had more chamomile tea in the past few weeks than you’ve ever had in your life. 

He sets up the picnic blanket in the perfect location: enough room in the shade for you to rest if you get too hot, but positioned in a way that encourages you to soak up the sun. As you eat, he oh-so-subtly encourages you to talk, maintains skin on skin contact as much as he can, and observes everything he can to improve the next one.

You sit blankly for a while, letting him do as he pleases but not reciprocating, before you finally speak, your voice much flatter than usual. “Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Why are you doing this?”

He freezes. “Why am I doing what, angel?”

You shift in his arms, forcing him to look you in the eye as you do so. He can’t help but brush a stray crumb off of your cheek, his thumb tracing down to your jaw. You gently catch his hand in your own, squeezing it. “These picnics aren’t just little dates, are they, Sanji? Something is clearly wrong.”

He doesn’t know how to explain he’s worried about you without you feeling pressured to speak. He doesn’t want to push you if you aren’t ready, but he can’t stand to sit by and watch as you drown in your own head. “I–do you have anything you want to talk about?”

“What?”

“You haven’t been yourself lately. I just thought…you could use something like this.”

You seem to relax a bit. “So you’ve been worried about me?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to push you, but you clearly need some help, darling. I was hoping I could make this a bit easier for you.”

You give him a real smile for the first time in a while. “Is this why you’ve been sneaking me so many little treats? And why you’ve been so desperate to keep me away from caffeine?”

He tries not to flush. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up. And I read getting better sleep can help with mood.” He pulls you closer, pressing your face into his neck to hide his redness from you. “I was hoping it’d make talking about whatever’s wrong a little easier for you.”

You snuggle into him, accepting your warmth. “Talking about it is always hard. Everything is, right now.”

“Are you willing to try? I think it might help.”

He can feel your sigh. Your reluctance. But slowly, carefully, you unfurl the tension you’re holding, and you allow him to carry some of your burdens for you. You talk for hours, about everything, including things you were clearly frightened to speak aloud. By the end, you may not be perfectly happy again, but he can see your steps are a little lighter. He’s never been more relieved.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[dylsluvrs]

ryomen sukuna x reader | college au [18+]

touchdown ch.1 ryomen sukuna wants to send you a message!

ᡣ𐭩 pairing. football player! sukuna x journalism major! reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary. ryomen sukuna. your best friend’s frat brother. he’s tall, hot, suave, not to mention the best thing to happen to college football since…well, ever. he’s in a world completely different to your own. while he spends his nights partying and racking up his body count, you spend your nights reading and racking up your word count. but when the two of you decide to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you realise you aren’t so different after all.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings/tags. 18+. fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, fake dating, opposites attract, acquaintances to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, sukuna being an asshole, best friend gojo.

ᡣ𐭩 chapter. 1/?

ᡣ𐭩 word count.

ᡣ𐭩 a/n. hello readers! welcome to the first chapter of touchdown!! i hope you’re all having a great week so far! fake dating has forever been one of my favourite tropes ugh the angst opportunities make me feral. this will be a sort of slow chapter as we introduce everything, but i hope you enjoy it!!

nav. masterlist

|| 3:24AM Ryomen Sukuna wants to send you a message

You flinch as your phone buzzes beside you, interrupting your disassociated reading of ‘the fundamentals of journalism’. You opted to ignore the buzz, focusing back in on the page you’d been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes. Your eyes would finally reach the bottom of the page, only to flit back up to the top because you simply couldn’t grasp what you’d been doing wrong. Your research had come to a halt, the football team flat out refusing to be interviewed by you. You knew how you were, how invasive your questions could be, but these were boys who bragged about their conquests to anyone who would listen, embarrassment should not be in their vocabulary.

Another buzz sounded. Then another. And another. You sighed, dog-earring the page and picking your phone up. A request for an instagram dm, and four texts from satoru.

|| Toru🤍: y/n, baby. please kindly look at your instagram dms.

|| Toru🤍: i know you’re not sleeping, check them right now.

|| Toru🤍: sukuna’s trying to dm you can you just answer him pls??

|| Toru🤍: he’s punching me PLEASE read the dm before he damages the money maker too much

You groaned. Ryomen Sukuna. Quite possibly the biggest slut on campus. You’d heard all the stories from Satoru about how Sukuna was making it his mission to fuck every sorority girl from your university. Eugh. You were so thankful that you chose to opt out of the sorority life. But, you loved Satoru, and he loved his face being intact, so over to instagram it was.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Need a favour, princess.

You’d known Satoru since birth, practically being forced into an arranged friendship by your parents and you kinda happened to like his company. You met the rest of the football team when he inevitably joined a frat. Consisting of only the football team. You were friendly with most of them, probably Suguru most of all. The only one who never really warmed to you was Sukuna. You knew him well enough to know he accepted the extra meal preps you left for the rest of the boys whenever you cooked for Satoru, and that his room directly faced Satoru’s. But that was it.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: I’ll make it worth your while.

You groaned again, eyes rolling into the back of your head. This was the same man who grunted when you greeted him with a smile whenever you were at the frat house. The guy who told Satoru that he can’t always use his plus one invite to the parties on you, mostly because you never turn up.

|| You: you’re coming to me for a favour? you must be really outta options, dude.

It was a strange feeling. Being needed. You knew Satoru needed you. You were the only one who kept him sane when he’s balancing football and physics. But this was a different kind of need. This was practically a stranger needing your help. Huh.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Fuck you. I need a girlfriend. You wanna do it?

Confused didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling right now. A girlfriend? Sukuna? Nope. Never gonna happen. And you of all people? Definitely not. You had a feeling Satoru didn’t know, because if he did, Sukuna’s phone would be broken and maybe his nose too.

|| You: the fuck? no, go ask one of your sorority fuck buddies if you’re that desperate. i’m sure their frothing at the mouth for the opportunity.

You went to put your phone down, choosing to ignore the pink-haired quarterback, but he was already typing. Like he was waiting for an answer.

|| Ryomen Sukuna: Real cute, princess. Obviously I don’t want a fuckin real one. Need a fake girlfriend so I can focus on football without thinking about pussy.

Confused again. The Ryomen Sukuna, self-proclaimed football god, needed help to be able to actually play? The situation was laughable actually. You furrowed your brows, the thought crossing your mind for just a second.

|| You: Pass.

You let out a sigh of relief when ten minutes passed and you were still left on read, choosing to turn your phone over, pressing your face into the pillow, and getting your final three hours of sleep you so desperately craved.

taglist: @kyo-kyo1 @kenmacantakemeaway @coldluminarykoala @sukubusss @clp-84 @ieathairs @toratsue @mocha-the-muse

[bugboi01]

Little Bird

touch starved! reader x yandere batfam (Bruce focused)

(A/N, thank you all so much for the support! Feel free to drop a request or ask me to tag you whenever I post something new!)

TW: Mentioned depression/neglect, manipulation, kidnapping

It took you a while to get used to the Waynes. At first, you were resistant. Anyone would be after being kidnapped by some random rich family, but you eventually began to lower your guard. While the circumstances weren't... ideal, the Waynes had been nothing but respectful since you were kidnapped.

Three months had passed before anyone touched you. You were half asleep in your bed, the chill of the room making you want to stay bundled up for as long as possible. There was a gentle knock at your door, and in walked Bruce with a gentle smile.

"Good morning, birdie," he cooed, sitting down on your bed and caressing your cheek. He found it adorable how you buried yourself under the blankets but made a note to get a heater for your room. You couldn't help but lean into the warm touch, craving the affection and heat. Bruce's smile widened at the sight.

"M-morning..." you murmured, still unsure how to address the man who had taken you away from everything you had known. Bruce had made it clear he wanted you to call him Dad or at least think of him as a father figure. Not that you had much experience with those. Both your mother and father had worked constantly in order to pay rent, which wasn't their fault, but it still left you feeling lonely.

This whole thing was making your emotions all weird. Sometimes, you would hate them. Other times, you would crave their reassurance. They all just made it so easy to talk to them. And now Bruce was giving you affection like you were one of his kids. If it was wrong, why did it feel so nice? You couldn't help the little whine you let out when Bruce tried to pull his hand away, face flushing with embarrassment at his chuckle.

"Shhh, birdie. I'm not going anywhere," Bruce whispered sweetly, carefully pulling you into his lap along with a blanket so you don't get cold. He held you close, gently rocking you like a baby until your eyes began to flutter closed once more. You fall back asleep to the sound of his gentle humming.

[lovegalor333]

lord please save her for me

paige bueckers x fem oc

hello! welcome to my new fic, i hope u like it! please let me know what y’all think, i have each chapter planned out but i’m not sure when i’ll update again. probably soon lmao 💋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🪽🌟

chapter one:

leni knew the first time she saw paige again it would feel like a kick in the stomach but to say she felt winded was an understatement. the sight in front of her had her breath stuck in her throat, heart beating out of her chest and her head spinning, she had to rest on the wall to balance herself. it wasn’t out of character for paige to be here. it was frat party at the beginning of the semester. paige was almost guaranteed to be here. but leni would have betted her life that the blonde would’ve come with her friends not the red head, wearing barely any clothes that was latched onto her arm currently.

“you good babe?” leni’s girlfriend, riley asks from beside her. she reached out a hand to rest on lenis back but the curly haired girl shrugged her off, “im fine. just feeling hot. can you get me some water?” leni asks in hopes to have a moment alone with her thoughts to process what she just saw. paige with a girl that wasn’t her. her paige with a girl that looked nothing like her.

despite having a girlfriend herself, leni was far from a hypocrite. a year ago leni was bearing her heart, all but begging paige to turn thier friends with benefits deal into something more serious. they already spent evenings laid together in bed. weekends walking around target or studying together. off days lounging around each others apartments. they were only fucking each other too. what would a title change? apparently a lot to paige.

leni tried for days but paige could not be swayed, shaking her head and furrowing her brow each time leni brought up the idea of them being girlfriends.

“i just don’t do that kind of thing len.”

“what we have right now is good. why change it?”

“i’m focused on basketball, i don’t need distractions.”

leni reached her breaking point, telling paige it was either they make it official or they never see each other again. she couldn’t continue in ‘will they, won’t they’ cycle. leni had caught feelings for paige. feelings so deep she wanted to shout it from the rooftops and it felt like her entire world crashed down when paige said it was best if they didn’t see each other again.

leni cried for days on end. buried under her duvet, waiting and wishing for paige to call or text and say she was wrong. to say she cared for leni they way leni cared for her. but no call or text came and eventually leni had to pick herself up and dust herself off. life doesn’t end when a blue eyed girl breaks your heart.

paige saw leni as soon as she walked in. of course she did. paige would spot leni in a sea of a thousand people. her bouncy curls, longer than the last time paige saw them, her brown skin, still showing the remnants of summer, her dark brown eyes, deep as ever as they flitted around the room. paige also saw the blonde girl next to leni, the way her hand touched her back, the way her lips pressed to lenis temple. paige wanted to punch that girl right in the face.

“where are you going?” camilla, paiges girlfriend asks as paige begins to walk away from her, “just to find a toilet. i won’t be long.” paige lies and she hurries off before camilla can say anything in response. paige wasn’t going to find a toilet. paige was going to find leni and she knew exactly where she would be.

“let me guess. you needed some fresh air.” hearing paiges voice made lenis hairs stand on end. she hadn’t heard that raspy drawl in so long she had forgotten what it sounded like. “you never did like parties.” paige says standing next to leni on the front porch. leni refused to look at paige, staring straight ahead, she focused on a street lamp in the distance that flickered. “i still don’t.” she says and in her head, her voice was strong and brave but her lips betrayed her and her words came out shaky and low.

“why are you here then?” paige asks, ever the curious girl. “i came with my g- a fri-” leni couldn’t bring herself to say the word girlfriend to paige. it was stuck in her throat threatening to choke her. “your girlfriend. you can say it len. you came with your girlfriend.”

“yeah. i did. i came with my girlfriend. looks like you did too. never knew red heads were your thing.” leni all but spits at paige, finally building the courage to look at her. and when she does, the past twelve months of healing and moving on completely unravel and leni feels as though she about to faint.

paige looks the same but simultaneously so different. her hair is still blonde but it’s shorter and a lot brighter, like she’s just had highlights. her skin looks smoother, in fact she’s glowing. leni was sure she’d grown a few inches too, paige was always taller than her but not this much taller. and as bad as leni was trying not to look, it was clear paige had been in the gym. the crop top she wore exposed her toned stomach and muscular arms and leni’s heart rate quickened as memories of those very arms being wrapped around her not so long ago flashed in her mind.

“are blondes your thing or just girls that look like me?” paige retorts and leni scoffs, “get your head out of your ass paige. girls that don’t treat me like i’m nothing is my thing.” paige feels limp as leni says that, did she really make leni think she was nothing?

paige had a difficult time with relationships. she branded herself as ‘not a relationship girl’, blaming her focus on basketball as the reason but paige knew that was bullshit. paige wanted nothing more than to have a girl in the stands cheering for her, to come home after practice and her bedroom not be empty but growing up all paige knew was turbulent relationships and broken homes and she vowed to never hurt someone the way she watched her parents hurt each other. and the only way she knew how to do that was to avoid relationships altogether.

“you weren’t nothing to me, len.” paige defends herself but it feels pointless, lenis feelings were written on her face, she always found it hard to mask her emotions and nothing had changed.

“i’m sorry. what i did wasn’t fair. i was stupid, so fucking stupid. letting you go-” leni couldn’t hear this. not here, not now. not ever actually. leni had gone through hell and back trying to get over paige, just ask her friends who had hugged her while she sobbed, forced her eat when she refused, literally picked her up off the floor multiple nights in a row after she drank enough wine to make her forget paige ever existed.

“paige, stop. this conversation is futile and one year too late.” leni holds her hand up to stop paige from saying anymore. to stop her from saying the words she was begging to hear last year.

“i’ve changed len. i promise. i tried so hard, i worked so hard to change for you. i want to show you that.”

“have you lost your fucking mind? i have a girlfriend paige and so do you. i’m happy. someone loves me, cares for me and it’s not a secret. it’s not behind closed doors. i’m someone’s girlfriend and they’re proud of that. and it’s fucked up of you to say all this stuff now, all this time later. i wasn’t enough for you and that ripped my fucking heart to pieces!”

“you were enough. you are enough. i was just blind and scared.”

leni was fighting the tears that threatened to spill, she didn’t want to cry in front of paige, give her the satisfaction of knowing she still affected leni.

paige couldn’t bare to see leni cry, the way her eyes glossed over and nose turned red, the way her lip quivered made paiges heart pang with guilt because after all, she was the reason leni was crying. “please don’t cry. i meant what i said. i really am sorry. and i know it’s complicated but i couldn’t not tell you this. i couldn’t not at least try it would feel like i’m robbing us of a chance.”

leni has averted her gaze again, there was something about holding eye contact with paige that felt like two hands around her neck squeezing every last breath out of her. it was suffocating and all consuming. when she was around paige, leni didn’t feel like she was in the same realm as everyone else, she felt transported to somewhere far away but she had to bring herself back down to earth before she did or said something she regretted.

“a year ago you looked me in my eyes and said it would be for the best if we never saw each other again and you were right paige. i shouldn’t have come to this stupid party and you shouldn’t have followed me out here. from now on, we go back to how it was before. you don’t know me. i don’t know you.”

“but i do know you len and you know me. so well.” paige does what she’s been dying to do since stepping outside with leni and she reaches out and touches her cheek. wiping a stray tear but her hand lingers and lenis eyes flutter closed at the feeling of paige. a feeling she’s craved for so long now, a feeling she’s dreamt about experiencing again.

paige has always felt a magnetic pull towards leni. the first time she met her, she was intrigued. she wanted to know more about the dark, curly haired girl. they sat for hours the first time they spoke then they ended up in paiges bed and paige got her wish of knowing more about leni. she knew leni so well it was as if she’d studied her. she knew what made her tick, how push her buttons, how to make her feel good. paige could read leni like a book, answering her questions before leni even asked them. that’s not what scared paige though. she knew she could control her feelings. what scared paige was the fact leni knew her in the same way. if paige bueckers was a book, leni had every word committed to memory.

leni placed her hand over paiges, still cupping her face, “paige, i can’t-” she begins to speak but paige cuts her off. “tell me you love her more than me. tell me what you have feels realer than what we had. tell me that and i’ll leave you alone.”

leni couldn’t say that. she couldn’t say any of it because it wasn’t true. she’s never loved anyone the way she loves paige and she doubts she ever will. but leni needed to protect herself. paige hurt her and leni couldn’t cope with that again and she had no reason to believe paige when she said she’d changed.

“don’t do that.” leni says looking at paige, her eyes as blue as ever, round and soft, pulling leni in. “don’t make this my decision. you walked away from me.”

“and it was the biggest mistake of my life.” paige says, eyes flicking down to lenis lips. she wanted to kiss her so bad. push her up against the wall, press her body into hers, one hand on her hip, the other in her hair. she wanted their lips to be on each other’s, she wanted to taste lenis cherry lip balm, tongues moving in sync as they meshed into one being.

“a mistake you’ll have to live with. i care about myself too much to risk being destroyed by the whirlwind that comes along with you paige.” lenis voice breaks as she turns away from paige as much as she believed paige was the reason they never worked out, she couldn’t help but feel like she walking away from what she’s always wanted.

“leni please-” paiges voice also faltered as she tried to pull leni back but the girl was strong and determined, “goodbye, paige.”

leni had no time to ruminate over the conversation and just about managed to wipe her tear stained cheeks before riley appeared in front of her.

“there you are! i got your water. who were you talking to out there?”

“no one. no one at all. let’s go dance.” leni says, plastering the fakest of smiles on her face. she didn’t worry that riley would notice because riley rarely noticed anything.

leni spent the rest of the night knocking back drinks and willing herself to stop glancing at paige but it was near impossible. the six foot, one hundred and sixty pound girl was alluring to say the least and with her also staring back, leni was beginning to lose composure.

“kiss me.” leni asserts, grabbing on to rileys shirt collar, pulling her down. riley looks confused but she would never deny kissing her beautiful girlfriend so she presses their lips together, leni deepens the kiss, her tongue slipping into rileys mouth but it’s not right. it doesn’t feel right. it’s not paige. and that makes leni feel sick. she’ll never kiss paige again and she’ll search for her in every girl but it’ll be pointless because no one could compare. no one could even come close.

now breathless from a phoney, drunken make out session that left nothing but the sour taste of beer in her mouth, leni pulls away from riley but her eyes immediately go to where paige was stood just minutes ago. but the athlete is gone. the only sign of her once being there was her girlfriend, now left holding two drinks. “i’m going to the bathroom.” leni mumbles and she slips away from riley, leaving her too, with a drink in each hand.

the multiple drinks leni had consumed in quick succession were catching up to her and her body swayed as she walked around the frat house looking for paige. she swung open random doors, bursting in on one too many explicit activities that she wish she never saw. “sorry, my bad.” she muttered quickly closing another door. she continued her search and by the time she reached the end of the hall, with no sign of paige, she actually needed to pee.

the bathroom was occupied but leni couldn’t wait, she knocked on the door over and over, “if you’re in there fucking, get out! i’m about to piss my pants!” she shouted over the music and she heard the lock click before the door slowly opened, “you never were very patient.” paige emerged from the bathroom and leni felt like this was fate. “i was looking for you.” she slurred, glancing up at paige. “you were?” leni nods, her eyes are glassy from intoxication, “i hate you for hurting me.” leni mutters but her actions do not resemble hate, they are needy and frantic as she pushes paige backwards into the bathroom, knocking the door closed with her foot.

“you hate me?” paige asks, hearing those words hurt but feeling lenis touch on her chest as she shoved her against the wall overrode any of that. “uh huh.” leni nods again, her hand now travelling down paiges chest and gripping her waist. “how much do you hate me?” paige tucks a piece of lenis hair behind her ear and leni leans into the touch, “so fucking much.” lenis breathing is ragged now as she pushes herself against paige, the craving she had for this woman was carnal and she doesn’t know how she managed to stay away from her for an entire year.

“you know im sorry. im different now len. hurting you is my biggest regret.” paige caresses lenis cheek, rubbing her thumb in small circles, she missed the feeling of her soft skin under her fingertips, “and this might just be mine.” leni says as she stands on her tiptoes to reach paige, crashing their lips together for the first time in over three hundred and sixty five days.

the kiss is sloppy and heated and influenced by the copious amounts of alcohol both girls had in their systems. paiges hands found lenis waist and she moaned into her mouth as her fingers explored every dip and curve on her body. leni felt like she was drowning and paige was air, she needed as much as she could get, nipping at paiges bottom lip before slipping her tongue into her mouth, saliva mixing to create the concoction that both girls missed so much.

“leni, are you in there?” there was a knock at the door and the voice of riley made leni jump away from paige, “it’s riley.” she whispered, eyes wide, “just be quiet.” paige whispered back. “leni?” rileys voice called out again and leni was violently brought back down to earth.

what the hell was she doing? in a frat house bathroom with her ex friend with benefits, kissing her when she had a girlfriend. when they both had girlfriends. this wasn’t leni. it wasn’t who she was and she wouldn’t hurt someone. she wouldn’t allow herself to.

“no. this was a mistake. we’re drunk.” leni fixed her appearance in the mirror, smoothing down her tossled curls that paige had messed up, wiping the smudged lip liner from her cupids bow and re-adjusting her shirt that had been pulled down exposing the lace of her bra.

paige watched her silently, blue eyes several shades darker as they glared into the mirror at lenis reflection. leni caught her gaze and for a split second she considered listening to paige and staying silent but riley called out her name again, “im coming!” leni responded and without so much as a glance at paige she unlocked the bathroom door and closed it tight behind her. leaving paige alone and confused, wondering what the fuck just happened.

thank you for reading baddies!! let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for future updates. ILY 💋💋

tag list: @heart4caitlin @jadasogay @avvwritesstufff @bueckersp

story info

[stoat-party]

He’s born tall and broad, created to labor ever deeper into the earth until the day his body gives out. Synths are easier replaced than repaired.

He’s strong, but also sharp and driven, with a single-minded faith in his creators that makes them take notice. He’s a rare find. Maybe instead of hauling debris, they can train him to kill.

When Zimmer tells him he’s been assigned to the courser program, he doesn’t really know what it means. All he knows is that he’s special, and useful. Being valuable means security — and already, the twin fears of erasure and obsolescence bake themselves into the back of his mind. He is three days old.

-

They’re pleased with his diligence, but not with his well-meaning questions. Every fiber within him knows that the Institute is right; all that’s left is to find out why. Instead, they teach him to recalibrate a laser rifle.

He loves his laser rifle.

He fires. Changes stance. Fires. The target shudders with every impact.

“Insufficient. Again.”

The corpse-gray face of his observer doesn’t change. Hasn’t changed for two hours. M7-97 is told that synths don’t have feelings as humans do. All they can experience is a pale imitation, like seeing the world in two dimensions. He believes this. But at the same time, he knows what he thinks of early-gen synths, and the only word for it is hatred.

He runs the drill again. Its yellow eyes bore into him. When they next meet his, they pronounce their stony judgment.

“Insufficient. Again.”

For the first time, it occurs to M7-97 that the weapon in his hands would be handy for disabling Gen-2 synths, if someone happened to give him the order. He makes another attempt, wholly focused. There is nothing else. This task is his entire life. He is seventeen days old.

He waits. The thing speaks. “Sufficient.” It stares unblinking. “Again.”

-

The Institute is the future. The Institute’s actions are always justified. M7-97 can explain it flawlessly, and this is unacceptable. A courser does not justify himself. A courser spares no thought for why.

When they take him to Retention & Reclamation, he assumes it’s for training. He feels no sense of injustice in this place, only the tense solemnity of a necessary evil. (If he had to feel anything at all, the Institute would have preferred smug amusement. They didn’t tell him that.)

A woman in a black lab coat instructs him to remove his jumpsuit. This is not training.

His stomach turns. They called him a prime candidate. They said he showed promise. “What did I do wrong?”

“Most quirks in central processing can be resolved with regular maintenance. However, Dr. Zimmer has declared you unsalvageable.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to.”

Begging is aberrant, but he has nothing to lose. “Please. I will do better.”

She glances at the clock, annoyed. “Remove your jumpsuit, M7-97.”

As they prepare him for reconditioning, he doesn't register the fear. Just suffocating failure and aimless guilt. He’s spent his short life learning the language of violence, but in the hands of his creators he is meek and silent. He is fifty-four days old.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️

Oh hell yeah! 42 for ⛅️

---

Except, wait… What if they’re stuck here? Eddie is straight. He might want to not remain married to Buck. He might… Maybe he would want a divorce. Oh god. That would be terrible. Absolutely terrible. Tommy dumping him and then Eddie divorcing him? How can he already have a worse track record with men than with women! Women had a significant head start! 

“Right?” He asks Eddie. “We’re not, right?”

“No!” Eddie answers, outraged like the question is ridiculous. “I would never divorce you!”

Okay, Mr. I’m Straight How Would We Even Have Sex. It wasn’t a silly question! 

“Okay, well something is going on!” Chris insists. “You both cried when you saw me. You’ve hardly touched each other all night. You’re usually disgusting. You forgot Nico’s allergies, like you’re too distracted or something. What is going on?” 

Buck and Eddie exchange an uncomfortable glance. 

“Uh… I’m just… Not feeling well?” Buck tries. 

“You’re sick?” Chris asks. “Oh my god, are you dying? Buck…”

“No!” Buck exclaims. “I’m not dying, Chris.”

“Then what?” Chris demands. 

“We’re really okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t need to worry about it, bud.”

---

42 for ⚡️

---

“You’re gonna need it.”

Buck sighs. He knows Bobby is right. He should probably be trying to bank sleep instead of stress. 

“It all just feels out of my control, you know?” Buck says. “Like if something goes wrong at this point, what can I do?”

“Nothing,” Bobby says. “There’s nothing.”

“See? That sucks!”

Bobby smiles. “That’s parenthood, though. That’s just… How a lot of it is.”

Buck nods. He knows that. Conceptually, he knows that. He just doesn’t like feeling it. He likes being able to do something. Manage potential problems. Be the solution. And as much as he knows that a baby a day overdue is not actually a problem, it just feels like the beginning of that anxious feeling he can’t do anything to solve. 

“Things are going to happen that you have no control over,” Bobby says. “Lots of them. And things will happen that you do have control over that you get wrong. But what’s important is how you respond to that.”

Buck nods. “Who’s to say I won’t panic about that, too?”

“You will,” Bobby chuckles. “But it’s okay. Because, at the end of the day, I think you’ll always do right by her.”

Buck takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Bobby.”

“Of course,” Bobby replies. “You know… When Brooke was five - right after she started school - there was a school bus accident. One of the buses headed towards hers and Bobby Jr.’s school. While I was on shift.”

“Were they on it?” Buck asks. 

“No,” Bobby shakes his head. 

---

42 for 🌲

---

“So, then, like… Genetics makes sense, right? Unless there’s another comic-esque origin,” Buck says. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose.

“Do you think I could have secret magic genes?” Buck continues. “My parents have English ancestry. What could that be?”

Eddie frowns. “Careful. A rabbit tempting enough runs by you and you might turn into a whippet.”

Buck smirks. “Aw, but you’d take care of me right? Put me in one of those little turtlenecks?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but finds that he’s smiling, too. How can Buck make him smile, even now?

“You know… A whippet’s life might be nice. Running really fast. Not a lot of problems. Soft turtlenecks. Presumably better-than-human hearing.”

Eddie tilts his head a little, taking Buck in. There’s a hint of sadness there. Well… Of course there is. This whole time they’ve been focused entirely on Eddie. But Buck’s been going through a lot, too. 

“Hey, uh,” Eddie says. “How are you holding in? With everything that’s happened…”

Buck blinks. “Uh… Fine, Eddie. I’m fine.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. That just confirmed the opposite.

“Buck.” 

“Really!” Buck insists.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie chides. “Between the fitting and Tommy, you’ve gotta be stressed.” 

---

42 for 🧜‍♂️

---

 He can’t be honest. He’s landed on, it’s just Chris and I or he doesn’t have a mother in his life. This usually shuts down the conversation for anyone with the social skills to realize he doesn’t want to talk about it. Which, fortunately, is most people. But there’s always the odd one. Did she leave you? Is she dead? It’s awkward and uncomfortable and Eddie hates it.

So when he makes the decision to tell Buck about Chris, on the day of the earthquake, it’s maybe sort of a test. Which is unfair of him, he knows. But, underneath his layers of anxiety in trying to contact his son, there’s a need to know. How will Buck react? Will he see Eddie the way Eddie has seen him? Will he ask the wrong questions? The right, discrete ones? Eddie isn’t sure. And maybe the way Buck reacts will… Give Eddie a hint? As to whether or not his suspicions are accurate? 

Buck’s response is great, but unhelpful. He beams, says he loves kids, and calls the photo of Christopher adorable. Well, yes! Christopher is adorable. Cutest kid ever, thank you very much. Said with no bias. He also doesn’t ask any questions about Christopher’s mother. So kind of a great response on all fronts. But not a conclusive one. 

Eddie feels stupid. What was Buck going to do? Start discussing trans parenthood in the back of the fire engine? No. Obviously fucking not. If he was out, he’d be out. And if he’s trans and suspects Eddie, he wouldn’t out Eddie either. Damn it. 

But the whole experience does teach Eddie something about Buck. When he decides he’s friends with you, he’s a damn good friend. Like, thoughtful and strikingly sincere. He spends the whole day supplying Eddie with earthquake facts. Reassuring him about Christopher’s safety. Keeping an eye on the cell service to see if Eddie can call Christopher’s school. 

[amateurmasksmith]

Orbits Merging

A/N: Inspired by @radioactive-dazey <3

Warnings: none, they’re just stupid. (ok it’s more accurate to say they’re just scared to disturb the status quo, but anygay-)

“I- I don’t- know,” Virgil sighed, frustrated. “I don’t know.”

Logan hummed. “May I,” he asked, “take a figurative crack at it?”

Virgil nodded and gestured accedingly.

Logan shifted the blanket on his lap to free his hands, and adjusted his glasses. “My… feelings, are…”

He sighed slightly, and his eyes shifted - dancing through the middle distance, as if he might read a more objective answer written on Thomas’ blinds across from them.

“…Complex.” He settled on.

Logan sighed more heavily this time, dropping his gaze to the blanket the two of them shared.

“Apologies, this is…” he said, clearing his throat.

Virgil lightly elbowed him. “You’re good,” he said, “I don’t get… this, either.”

“It’s like-“ Logan started again, haltingly.

“Are you familiar with,” he concentrated a moment before conjuring a sheet of paper, “this memetic format?”

He passed the page to Virgil, which showed a speech bubble on the left, with the phrase “I love you” scrawled inside it - Pointing to a stylized outline of a human head on the right, which had the ‘gesturing at a conspiracy board’ meme pasted into it.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, that’s… yup.”

“It's… accurate,” Logan conceded, referring to the three-word phrase while fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, “It accomplishes the intended purpose.”

“But,” he continued, “It’s nowhere near the actual, complex, thoughts and feelings I have for you.”

He stood up, dropping his side of the blanket, and began to pace the living room while gesturing. “And yet! And yet! Despite knowing this, I still have tremendous difficulty describing them - I can only make progress through their negatives!”

“…Negatives?” Virgil asked.

Logan turned, pausing his pacing to momentarily face him. “Or- or, opposites - by focusing on what they aren’t, rather than what they are.”

“Oh.” Virgil said, realizing. “Like, it’s definitely not… romantic-” They both made a sound of disgust.

“-But it’s…” Virgil trailed off.

Logan sat down gently. “…It’s not …quite your standard platonic either.”

He sighed. “In many ways, I am glad telepathy does not exist,” Logan stated. “But this would certainly be an exception.”

Virgil helped Logan re-cover himself with the blanket.

“Yeah, it’s… hard. Not being able to… fully express what you mean.” He said, scratching the back of his neck as he searched for the words. “There’s… always something, some idea, some nuance, left out - Just because… brains are…”

Virgil thought for a moment.

“Bigger on the inside.”

And he could see the gears turning, Logan’s expression lifting as his eyes lit up with understanding.

“Precisely!” Logan said with a genuine smile.

Virgil couldn’t help but feel warm, a smile of his own growing as he broke eye contact.

A comfortable silence settled over them.

A few minutes passed, and Virgil wondered if he should put on the movie.

He looked over, and was just about to ask, when he noticed Logan was fidgeting with the blanket while staring off into space, holding a subtly stiff posture.

Logan was nervous.

He was just about to ask what was wrong, when Logan zoned back in, and noticed Virgil staring.

“I- I’m sorry, I zoned out for a moment.” Logan said. “Did you need something, Virgil?”

“No! No, I-” he stuttered, taken aback by the sudden question. “You just seemed nervous… You ok?”

Logan looked away. “I… have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“But- I’m…” Logan paused.

Virgil put his hand on Logan’s arm encouragingly.

Logan continued, “I’m concerned…” He took a breath. “I’m… afraid… that asking will… interfere.”

“Interfere?”

“Like a quantum superposition. Observation… interferes.”

“You… and you don’t want to change things?” Virgil asked, barely daring to breathe.

Logan’s eyes were glued to the floor in front of them.

“It’s… complex,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t want change… it’s more so that… the possible game-states are… far too open for my liking.”

It was now Virgil’s turn to fidget. “It’s the uncertainty.” Virgil twisted his hoodie string around and over and through his fingers. “If you make the wrong move… it’s game over.”

”And yet,” Logan acknowledged, “you can’t stop playing.”

“Yeah.”

Silence settled over them once more, though this one was more high-strung.

Each sat hyper aware of the other - Neither daring to move, neither daring to speak.

“I-“ “Do-“ they both started.

“Shit, sorry-” “No, no - Please, go ahead.”

Several beats.

Logan was looking at him.

Virgil’s breathing quickened as his mind raced for something, anything to say.

“DoyouknowwhataQPRis?” he blurted out before quickly shutting his mouth in surprise.

Logan blinked.

Virgil blinked.

Virgil began panicking internally.

“I-” Logan inhaled as if he’d forgotten to breathe, and summoned an index card with a familiar pink-and-yellow flag glued to the back.

He flipped it over to re-read the definition, and Virgil couldn’t help but notice how worn the card was.

“Yes, I- I do. I am familiar with the term.”

“C-cool. D’you-” he stuttered.

He cleared his throat. God, this was torture.

Virgil looked up as Logan wordlessly passed him the card.

“I- I know the definition, L, I-”

But then he read it.

In the margin, scribbled in a haphazard version of Logan’s usual neat handwriting:

‘Should tell Virgil??’

He looked back at Logan, and couldn’t help the grin that pushed its way up onto his face as the weight eased off of his chest.

“I- Yeah! God, yeah- I- I’d love to.”

Logan, for a moment, attempted to fight off his own smile - but shortly abandoned the effort, and returned Virgil’s grin.

“I… I am relieved,” Logan finally managed, posture comparatively much more relaxed.

Virgil scooted closer, and Logan leaned forward to allow him to put his arm behind his back in a couch-bound half-hug as the day’s fatigue finally set in.

Logan summoned the remote before asking Virgil, “While establishing boundaries in new relationships is very important, I-” he paused to yawn.

“Excuse me- Would it be alright with you if we postponed that discussion until tomorrow?” Logan stifled another yawn before continuing, “It’s been… an exhausting day.”

Virgil was leaning on Logan’s shoulder, already half-asleep - completely spent from the long day, and the emotional stress. He blinked slowly. “Yeah, that-” Virge yawned.

“Now you got me doing it,” he said. “Sorry, yeah, that sounds… it sounds good.”

“Excellent.”

Logan woke the television screen, and lowered the volume.

As he started the movie, he whispered over his shoulder, “I love you, Virge,” and leaned back against the couch.

A sleepy mumble returned, “Love you too, L.”

They both fell asleep before the opening credits finished.

[gothamite-rambler]

Tim's and Konnor first kiss

Context: This is just my headcanon where Tim did date Konnor, it didn't work out and then later when he fully realized he was bisexual and reconnected with Bernard he started dating him. Because why pick on ship when you can have both and write ship script fics about it? Plus I do secretly headcanon Tim as being the opposite of Jason and he's great at dating and flirting even when he's being a nerd. Tim is the third Robin and has been questioning his sexuaility, but finds himself attracted to both genders and he has though Konnor was foine! Issue is while Konnor has been out of the closet for a few years, Tim isn't sure the superhero would want to be with him. So he shoots his shot, will he get that kiss?

Red Robin yawned as Konnor Kent discussed the plan to sneak into LexCorp. Though he usually managed three to four hours of sleep, sometimes exhaustion crept in. Still, he wasn't complaining—he was next to Konnor. The boy's effervescent energy always kept him focused.

Konnor (eagerly): If we go here, here, and here, we can drop down there and take them out. That way, we get everything squared away.

Robin glanced over the blueprints Konnor had drawn himself and nodded.

Robin (genuine): Good plan.

Konnor (surprised): That's it?

Robin (casually): Yeah. Were you expecting me to say something else?

Konnor (confused): You usually pick apart other plans, and by the end of it, the whole thing is changed. You do a good job at that—don’t get me wrong—but there’s nothing you want to fix on mine?

Robin chuckled, resting his arm on the table.

Robin (light-hearted): For others, I would, but yours has a lot of thought put into it, and you know Lex's buildings better than I do. It's a solid plan.

Konnor (smiling softly): I mean, I’m not just some dumb guy who can fly and is super strong. I have layers. Some people misunderstand that about me. I can be really good at planning, too. Thanks, Robin.

Tim (smiling): No one else is around, dude. You can call me Tim.

Konnor (perking up): Seriously? Cool! I felt weird saying "Robin" at times. "Tim Drake" is a more badass name.

Tim (smiling, sweet tone): Konnor isn't bad either.

Konnor (curious): Really? I always hated my name.

Tim (shrugging): You have a good name, regardless of the connotations it has. And I agree, you're not dumb—there are many great things about you.

Konnor (raising an eyebrow with a knowing smile): Tim, are you coming on to me?

Tim sat back, resting his arms behind his head.

Tim (coy tone): Maybe I am, maybe I'm not.

Konnor: Hm, all right. If I said you're attractive to me and I've been wanting to kiss you for months since coming out, what would your response be?

Tim chuckled, sitting up straight and scooching his chair closer to Konnor.

Tim: I'd say I've been feeling the same about you.

Konnor pouted, tapping his fingers on the table, contemplating whether this was Tim being truthful. He could hear the man's heartbeat slightly speeding up, but he wasn't sure if it was infatuation or deception.

Konnor (slightly dejected tone): I'm not going to lie, I'm worried this is a dumb trick you're pulling on me.

Tim tilted his head, his tired eyes reflecting confusion.

Tim: Hm? Why would you think that?

Konnor: Because you're straight, right? You were with Stephanie. Heck, I've even met your girlfriend before you got involved with Steph, and I'd rather not be your 'experiment.'

Konnor glanced at his blueprints, trying to concentrate on the mission rather than dwelling on the painful possibilities of "what if." However, he couldn’t help but notice Tim's expression shift from coy to anxious.

Tim (worry in his tone): No, no, no, you're not an experiment or anything like that. I'm not sure what I like because my brain isn't saying I only like women, but I don’t only like men. I—

Tim sighed, covering his eyes in embarrassment. Konnor turned in his chair to face his friend and took his hand gently.

Tim (softly): I met up with this old friend from high school, and after saving him as Robin and being with him… I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to be close to him like I was with a woman... but then he left. Then I noticed I felt that way for a while and when I see you, and I want that same thing. I still like women, but I�� what am I?

Konnor chuckled, softly rubbing the top of Tim's hand.

Konnor (sympathetic tone): I went through something similar when I realized this when I came out. You might be bi, dear boy. Are… you okay?

Tim (sighing while keeping his head down): Yeah.

Konnor: Good, because you look like you've been holding that secret in for a long time. If I'm right, I don't want to assume anything. Sexuality is a weird spectrum, but I'm getting the feeling you aren't just straight or gay.

Tim (hesitantly): You're… right. It seems… It is... I mean... I am bisexual, I think.

Konnor smiled warmly.

Konnor: I'm here if you want to talk or… kiss. Both work.

Tim chuckled, taking his hand back to remove his eye mask.

Tim: I thought you didn't want that. I want to do that, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable; I really want to kiss you, but… I don’t know. God, I can't think of the right choice.

Konnor (softly): Since it's not a trick and you opened up to me, I feel more… reclined to let you have your first kiss with the perfect superhuman.

Tim smirked, trying to glare playfully at Konnor.

Tim: You know "inclined" is the right word, and that’s a bit of an ego trip… but no one else is here.

Konnor nodded, and Tim sighed, leaning in. Their lips met quickly at first, but Konnor pulled him back for a deeper kiss that left Tim stunned. His cheeks flushed a bright shade of crimson, his eyes widening in surprise as he momentarily froze. His arms stayed at his sides for a heartbeat, but as they parted for a breath, Tim kissed Konnor again, feeling the man's hand rest gently against his neck.

Tim placed his hand on Konnor’s hip, pulling him closer and taking in a shaky breath. As the initial shock wore off, warmth spread through him, instinctively leaning into the kiss and melting into the connection between them.

He kept kissing Konnor, feeling his heartbeat race as the seconds slipped by. Feeling Tim's steady breath against his lips sent tingles down Konnor's spine. He lightly gripped Tim's arm, drawing him closer, feeling the undeniable strength and warmth radiating off him. In that moment, nothing else mattered; the world around them faded into a blur.

Tim's lips were soft yet confident, as if he were exploring the depths of Konnor’s emotions with every lingering brush. Konnor tightened his fingers around Tim's arm, pulling him in even closer, as if trying to fuse their bodies together.

As they broke apart, Konnor's breath mingled with Tim's, both panting slightly from the rush of adrenaline. Tim looked at him with an expression that blended surprise and something deeper, almost tender.

Then Tim promptly fell forward, his eyes rolling back in his head. Konnor caught him, letting his friend rest on his chest to prevent him from sliding onto his lap.

Konnor (jokingly): Yeah, don't want anyone walking in if you landed on my legs. I didn't know my kiss was that powerful.

Tim (dazed): To be fair, you're the first man I've kissed.

Konnor (fist pumping): All right!

Tim sat up and sighed happily, then covered his eyes in embarrassment, shaking his head.

Tim: Does this get ea—s

Konnor (interrupting): I'm gonna stop you there. When I came out as bi, it felt like I left this confined space; it made sense. I felt free, but that's just the beginning. Dating is the difficult part, but we can talk about that after the mission. We can go to the KFC combination Taco Bell afterward.

Tim (laughing): Is that a date?

Konnor returned to reviewing his blueprints but kept a sly smile on his face as he glanced at Tim.

Konnor: It can be, but LexCorp first.

Tim nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. The realization that he was bisexual felt surreal but in a good way. Konnor was right; it felt freeing. While he still had a lot to learn about himself, it felt good to have an answer.

[bloomzone]

🗝️.solitude is not a curse—it’s a gift.

In a world that often emphasizes the importance of social connections, friendships, and belonging, it’s easy to feel like being alone means something is wrong. The pressure to have a group of friends or to always be socially engaged can be overwhelming. But, the truth is, being alone without friends is completely ok ! or having no friends is not only okay—it can be a powerful and enriching experience. "Why" :

© bloomzone

The Value of Solitude

There is something incredibly liberating about having time to yourself. When you’re not constantly worried about fitting in, impressing others, or maintaining a social circle, you have the space to truly be yourself. Solitude allows you to focus on your passions, interests, and personal growth. It’s during these quiet moments of being alone that you discover your true self—your dreams, desires, and strengths.Some people think that without friends, they lack a sense of identity or purpose. But the reality is that your sense of worth doesn’t come from external sources like friends or social approval. It comes from within. When you are comfortable being alone, you begin to realize that your value isn't tied to the people around you—it's inherent, simply because you exist. The world is full of distractions, but being alone helps you reconnect with your soul and nurture your personal growth.

The Pressure of Friendships

Friendships can be beautiful, but they can also be challenging and exhausting. Sometimes, the pressure to be liked, understood, or to fit into a certain group can make you lose sight of who you really are. We might find ourselves pretending to be someone we’re not, just to keep up appearances or to avoid feeling isolated. But what happens when we step back from these pressures?By stepping away from the idea of needing friends to feel validated, you free yourself from those societal expectations. When you’re not trying to be “part of the group,” you get to live authentically. It’s okay if you don’t fit in with everyone (like me) or if you don’t have a best friend by your side every moment. What matters is that you are true to yourself and your journey.

Learning from Loneliness

It’s easy to assume loneliness is something to be avoided at all costs. But, in truth, loneliness can be a teacher. It allows you to explore your thoughts, confront your feelings, and learn to enjoy your OWN company. Some of the most successful and fulfilled people in history spent long periods alone, focused on their work, their craft, or their passion They used their solitude to build their dreams.embracing loneliness doesn’t mean you’re isolated from the world; it means you’re connecting with yourself. It’s a time for self-discovery and reflection. By spending time alone, you learn more about your own strengths, weaknesses, and desires. This self-awareness makes it easier to make thoughtful decisions about who you want to bring into your life, and it helps you set boundaries that allow you to protect your peace.

STORY TIIIIME !

In middle school, I didn’t have many friends. I was often alone, walking the halls between classes, and watching groups of people laughing and talking with one another. I wanted to be part of those groups, to feel included, but something always held me back. Maybe I wasn’t “cool” enough, or maybe I was just different from the others. Regardless, I felt like I was on the outside looking in. But the more I tried to fit in, the more I realized that maybe I didn’t belong there.(I used to fake reading a book or smthng when friends group pass by 🙋🏻‍♀️)In high school, things shifted. I realized I didn’t need friends to feel fulfilled. Sure, it was tough at first, feeling like I was walking alone. But in that space of solitude, I started focusing on my goals. I began waking up early to study, I started practicing my hobbies, and I even began learning new things like language. I found peace in my own company, and I realized that I could be my own source of support, encouragement, and joy.Now, I’m in a place where I am comfortable with myself. I don’t need constant validation from others to feel like I matter. I know who I am, and I’m proud of the person I’m becoming. And yes, I still wish sometimes that I had a group of friends to share moments with, but I no longer feel the pressure to have that in my life.I’ve learned that solitude is not a curse—it’s a gift (as I said in the title). It’s a space for me to grow, reflect, and build a future I’m excited about. I’m no longer afraid of being alone because I’ve learned to love the time I spend with myself.

The next time you feel like you're missing something or not enough, just pause and remember: the person who's been with you through it all is YOU. You don’t need a crowd to validate your worth because you’ve got your own back. And when those tough moments hit, look yourself in the eye, smile, and say, “You’ve got this.” Being on your own isn’t a problem—it’s a chance to become the best version of yourself xoxo !

[alexanderwales]

@queenlua

(this is sort of a tangent so feel free to ignore me ENTIRELY but: who exactly is the audience for litRPG stuff? my first time hearing of it was at a sf/f writer's workshop, and when it was described to me i was like "wouldn't these people simply read webfiction" but then i was informed of The Sales Numbers Around LitRPG People I Had Never Heard Of and was like What The Hell, but i was clearly the only Extremely Online person in the room so figured i wouldn't get any further context from present company lol)

For some reason I thought I had answered this, and maybe I did somewhere and can't find it, so sorry if this is a restatement of something you've already read, but ...

There are a few fundamental fantasies being fulfilled by the modern litRPG.

First, there's the power fantasy, the idea that you can have control and be agenty and make decisions. I don't think there's anything wrong with power fantasy per se, and I expect that the desire for power fantasy will grow when people feel more and more powerless. litRPG does not offer anything much different from e.g. superhero stories, at least as far as power fantasy goes.

Second, there's the progression. This is part of the power fantasy, the getting stronger over time angle, powering up, getting better. litRPG promises that, it's in the nature of the RPG elements, and fundamental to the appeal. This is something that e.g. superhero stories usually don't have. (There is a whole genre, progression fantasy, that focuses on this, and litRPGs are usually a subset of that depending on who you ask.)

Third, the litRPG offers legibility. It is clear what the powers are, what they do, what choices are to be made. Everything is clearly laid out and easy to conceptualize, at least most of the time. And because this is the case, it's good as a platform for the imagination, especially for analytical readers. It's something for people to daydream about, argue over, etc. Legibility is super important, IMO, or at least the appearance of legibility, the illusion that the author has a Concrete Plan with Hard Numbers. Armchair psychoanalysis is that a desire for this relates to a lack of legibility (and by proxy "fairness") in real life.

Fourth, the litRPG naturally speaks the language of videogames, and a lot of the readers are super into videogames, so there's some element of "thing that I like" in there which I don't think can actually add to any analysis, but also some of the things that people like about video games are power fantasy, progression, and legibility, so ...

There's also a lot of overlap between webfic and litRPG. I don't know that I'd say it's the most popular form of webfic right now, but ... probably it is? The overall market is young men for both. [Edit: I should probably clarify that I don't know what the hell goes on over at Wattpad. AO3 is also webfic, but that's fanfic, and female dominated last I checked. I'm talking more RoyalRoad, SB/SV, QQ, etc. I am not a market expert, terms and conditions may apply.]

Here are some other reasons I've heard from people when I've asked:

it's hard to screw up, so you're guaranteed a quality baseline

the writing is often simple popcorn that's easy to digest

the writing is often bad in a way that makes it less predictable

there's often no romance or introspection

the numbers are going up, and I like that consistent dopamine drip feed

the characters are simple

the main character is just like me

I think some of these are just wild to think about, and others are not really about the genre, just the kinds of people who write within it and the stories that make up the bulk of what people are reading.

LitRPG where the protagonist's game system is very clearly from a game with a 20-minute day-night cycle, and whose gamification of hunger, thirst, and sleep just wreaks havoc on his personal and professional life.

Just kidding, litRPG protagonists don't have personal or professional lives.

[kailoraurelius]

📣📣📣 AND ANOTHER THING ABOUT SWAN, I shout into my empty room. @sun-mo0nshine reblogged my post about Swan being the baddest bitch and said they love the way Jasmine says, "Swan". And I have a headcanon about it that idk maybe y'all would like?? So here it is lol. Sorry it's monsterously long.

We all have animatics in our heads, I'm sure. Or full stage or cinema productions or whatever. We're picturing it as we listen. I have a full stage production in mine. There's a few parts that are questionably possible with today's technology, but whatever. It's entertaining and gets me through very long hours at work sometimes.

POINT IS, in my head, Swan almost never smiles. She sounds nearly bored the very first time she says her name in Survive the Night. But we know her better now! We know she was worried even then!! And all the girls are saying their names in ways that seem to match how they'd be feeling in that moment.

Cochise, vibey, positive. Shown by her share of the lyrics in the rest of the song, because she's the one that sings about Cyrus holding the crown and wanting to see what happens with Cleon.

Cowgirl, more excited and rambunctious, down for a good time. That one is simple lol.

Fox, short and fierce. She's already trying to show she's tough in the first moment of her in this. You can hear her lifting her chin when she fuckin' says it.

Cleon, the loudest and most open voice of all of them. Representing basically her whole character in her intro. She is the one that believes fully in Cyrus and is open to her dream.

Ajax, just above monotone, a little extra emphasis on the "s" sound. It feels a little darker, even snake-like for a moment. Not to say she's a snake by any means, but she is ALMOST an antagonist for her own crew throughout—questioning Swan over and over, picking the fight that ends up taking her away—and this bit of darker voice and imagery kinda hints at that to me.

Rembrandt, always saying her name in two parts, the last syllable usually leaning more toward her feelings. (For example, the first time Mercy adds herself to the Roll Call later, Rembrandt speaks after her and there is very clearly a ???? In the middle of her name and an annoyed emphasis on the T at the end, like she's thinking, "who is this bitch? It was MY turn next.") And in this first Roll Call, her voice seems to fall somewhere between Ajax and Swan's vibes. Not as worried or displeased, but in between. Which makes sense because she is the one that echoes Ajax when she openly questions the plan throughout this song.

NOW. Swan. Worried. Monotone. Mind elsewhere, on what the future is about to bring them. I do not picture her smiling in this.

In Warriors' Cypher is the first time we hear some brightness in her voice, but even then she's talking about "peace so far" and stating that she has everyone's backs if that changes. She's STILL worried, even while they're fooling around and having fun. I do picture her almost exasperatedly laughing at the others' parts or smirking at Cowgirl's line, but not full on grinning. She's still focused on her worry, but she's allowing the bit of fun. And, in If You Can Count, I do see her starting to smile as it seems like the peace is going to be a real, lasting thing.

But, as Swan later says in A Light or Somethin', everything goes wrong from then on. Cyrus, running for their lives, the Turnbull ACs trying to kill them, the track fire. In Track Fire and a Phone Call, everyone is again kinda goofing off. Blowing off steam, razzing each other. But Swan is serious and stern. "When we get there, that's when we've made it." No smiling. She's too focused on protecting her crew.

Then we get to Orphan Town and THIS is where I think Swan's first full, genuine smile would come in. Again, she's worried, she's strategizing. The Orphans are taking some convincing. Swan and Fox start their flirting, where I imagine she would have a placating smile on, at least. Then Mercy comes in.

And I think Mercy amuses Swan. I think she comes out, singing about the Orphans, saying "Witcha hand on your BCACK" and, in my head, Swan laughs, startled into amusement, then quickly hides it so Sully won't turn on her. Then Mercy turns on her.

She starts demanding Swan's vest and this is the first and only time in the album that we hear Swan sound a little dumbstruck. That "What?" absolutely sounds like 0.0 She recovers, offers to try and get Mercy one if she helps them through, and Mercy says she wants the vest off of Swan and what do we hear? A laugh. A small one, entwined with her, "No chance" but a laugh. The only amusement we hear in Swan's voice until A Light of Somethin'. So yeah, I think Swan finds Mercy ridiculous and unhinged and kinda hilarious. Still though, I don't see a full-on smile happening here.

But then everything goes sideways, Swan defends Mercy, Sully changes his mind about letting them pass, and Swan decides to blow their shit up. They start putting together the molotov and it's when Swan calls for a piece of fabric and Mercy offers it up that I see the smile happening. The line "Let's make their world a little brighter" is the brightest we've heard Swan's voice be. In my headcanon, feature film, stage adaptation, I see Swan asking for the fabric and Mercy jumping forward to offer it up and Swan, startled again into amusement and gratefulness, fully grins.

I think it goes away very quickly as she focuses on her task and puts back on her leader face, but I think that quick look is when Mercy starts falling.

Back to everything is hard and sucks for a while. Swan is busy trying to ignore Ajax and Mercy's beef and protecting her crew. Her sole focus is getting them home. Then they lose Ajax and she has to lead the cops away. Mercy goes with her and they end up alone.

Which brings us to A Light or Somethin'. We know Swan was likely freaking out inside. Her Warriors are out there somewhere and she can't help them, can only hope they're waiting for her at Union Square. Ajax is gone, Cleon is gone. So she's quiet as they walk through the tunnel, understandably. But, again, Mercy manages to amuse her. You can HEAR the amusement in her voice. She laughs, saying Mercy won't like initiation. She is playful when she says, "Well, you split from the Orphans, are you loyal?" It's a legit question, but it's said with such a lighter feel. You can tell Mercy has broken through the stern, stoic face she's been putting on for just a moment. I think this is the closest we get to another real smile before the Finale. Not the full blown grin I picture in Orphan Town, but a smile nonetheless.

And when Swan rejects Mercy, her voice drops back down to that more monotone, worried voice we're used to. Except it also has a bit of a rasp to it now. A pain. She doesn't want to be pushing Mercy away. Desperation and agitation fill the rest of the song and then it's, once again, everything sucks and we're running. They lose Fox.

And I feel like there's a smile after the kiss in Same Train Home. It definitely feels like there's a few in the Finale, when Swan says "Anyone sick of runnin", when she tells Mercy she's a Warrior, when Cleon shows up, when Swan and Mercy sing "When I am with you" together.

But I think the only full, unguarded or untinged with sadness/worry, grin is in Orphan Town. When this woman Swan doesn't even know shows up and startles her into genuine happiness she wasn't expecting to find anywhere. Much less on the run for her life.

[variousqueerthings]

@autistic-puffin i feel like i have nothing more to say about go2, like I excised my thoughts in one go 😭 especially considering it feels like so much meta/art has already been posted

(EDIT: AND THEN I WROTE THOUGHTS)

my main thoughts are also maybe a teensy bit hot take, because I'd assumed it was going to be a bit like certain narratives that are quite popular on here, but don't really do it so such for me, because they don't ground their queerness in anything substantial or they try to, but aren't informed enough to do it well (I admire the attempt and I have nothing against these pieces, I just don't personally enjoy them) and so it's more about the shipping or the memeable moments and that's not really what I get into things for

and it being disingenuous to fold it under narratives that are willing and fun enough, but ultimately made by people who haven't done toooo much work around queer themes before and fall (in my opinion) a bit for the simple narratives of "everything ultimately has to have stakes that aren't too high and play nice and don't distress their audience too much lest fragile LGBT+ people can't handle it" <- sweet narratives, easy to follow, a tad too candyfloss and ungrounded for my taste, often unbalanced in its comedy-to-drama scales and undermining sincerity by solving things too quickly and/or with too little delving into what these things mean

neil gaiman and john finnemore have been writing queer characters and themes for some time, and david tennant/michael sheen have played queer characters before (and heck, david tennant has at least one queer kid), it's not so surprising that this narrative actually isn't as mass-appeal as was assumed it was going to be before coming out (heh, coming out)

and by mass-appeal I don't mean that it doesn't have mainstream attention, but that there's seemingly confusion about what it's doing, when if you're into stories about non-conformity vs oppression (in this case mainly through a queer lens) it's pretty obvious, and I'm assuming very rewarding on subsequent watches

it's not fluff -- fluff works better for me in fanfiction than in original works, it's not aimless -- either in direction or in theme, it's not mainstream queerness -- although nina and maggie kind of have that "LGBT-unburdened-by-reality" kind of thing that I often don't vibe with, they're a part of three narratives about connection that ultimately ground queer non-conformity in action and feeling as explicitly dangerous to oppressive systems (in this case systems grounded in Christianity, which works very well)

there's a confusion in some reviews I've seen in the mainstream about why it matters that we follow these characters through thousands of years (well, millions technically, but the main thrust happens in the thousands), and coming to the conclusion that it's just because everyone's having a bit of fun, and then they're totally blindsided by the final 15mins and unable to place it in what they've watched previously

but it makes perfect narrative sense and I can pinpoint after one watch clues and foreshadowing leading to those final minutes, and why it matters that we follow the characters the way that we do, and (while I won't go too much into this because I think I'm late to the party and plenty of others have already spoken about it) threads that have been laid out that will clearly be picked up on in s3

I quite enjoy that this is a narrative about queerness that isn't so palatable to reviewers, and isn't for that matter so palatable to viewers who are used to measuring successful queer narrative via easy-to-follow tropes, I think that's one suggestion that it's done its job right in how it was constructed

I want especially straight mainstream reviewers to have to do the translation and if they can't, then it's not for them. that's a rarity in queer narrative that's released with so much attention and that also feels like part of the magic trick of the season -- am reminded of when black sails season 2 "revealed" that flint was queer and that this was a narrative centred around queer rage as an insight into other forms of oppression (which some things were done better than others of course, but that was the purpose, and madi really is that voice at the end!)

and how some straight dudebro fans felt cheated, while many queer viewers went... well yeah, obviously flint was queer, they signposted it (here I also note that some queer viewers didn't see it until that moment because we're also used to being signposted at and then not having follow-through because queercoding language is so ubiquitous to tv and film writing nowadays that many straight people don't know what it is or that they're doing it, or they went "hey we might do something queer winkwink" and then called fans disgusting for reading characters as queer ✌)

and that feeling is somewhat similar here in a way. "we thought we were in this for a bit of silly fluff, what's all this about themes? it's confusing, we don't like it, we're going to flatten it rather than acknowledge what is actually happening in the narrative, and then we're going to interact with that flattened version that we've created instead and call it self-indulgent and harmlessly silly."

so my hot take is that... it's not silly. well it is silly and fun and even at times indulgent, but it's also quite good at being a story that is Queer in ethos, and I prefer stories to be queer in ethos and not just have some ostensibly queer characters around saying the right words without knowing why or where those words originate

it's better than it's being given credit for, in ways it's not being given credit for, because it's not made palatable for a mainstream straight crowd or softened for fear of upsetting anyone

[dykedvonte]

You ever just see a Mouthwashing take that makes you want to bang your head into a wall? I literally just saw someone claim Curly couldn't have been emotionally abused by Jimmy before the crash because he was in a higher position of power than Jimmy.

-Shrimp Anon

The mouthwashing fandom has shown me that people genuinely do believe that certain types of abuse are not as detrimental as other types especially when they deem those immune/resistant, ergo, believing one is objectively worse no matter how it affects the person nor the intersections of power, history and dynamics at play.

Get ready cause this is a yap session:

Cause like it's heavily implied that Curly and Jimmy's friendship was toxic and abusive, pointedly in the direction of how Jimmy uses Curly's belief/comfort in him. Curly wasn't forced to enable Jimmy but he was emotional and mentally on edge around him in almost every scene in some way. Mental and emotional abuse are not contingent on what positions you have at work. Yeah, he's Jimmy's boss but he was Jimmy's friend first and it's like getting into Psych discussion to talk about how social power tends to overshadow any perceived organizational power in the human mind. People are concerned about their jobs ofc but they tend to hang onto and put more value/investment into their personal relationships, hence why there tends to be laws and restrictions around mixing the two.

I always see the sentiments that "Curly is a grown ass man", "Curly is bigger than Jimmy", "Curly is Jimmy's boss", "He just needed a backbone" as criticisms of Curly and while I do agree that on the surface level all of these to be true and viable ways Curly could've taken more control of the situation, I often look at the parallels of Anya and Curly as victims of Jimmy pre/post crash.

The way Jimmy talks to Anya post crash is how he talked to Curly in the pre-crash segments. It's hard to pin-point mainly because we know he hates and wants nothing to do with Anya compared to his contrary but similarly handled obsessions with Curly. It's a weird sort of "honey-moon" effect of abuse Jimmy does in terms of emotional and mental victimization. He is always horrid to Anya, always talking down or questioning her abilities and thoughts in a situation, this of course includes the harassment and assault. However, he has a moment of attempted gentleness/conditioning when he question her about the mouthwash when she's contemplating drinking it at the table. The key difference is he has no personal investment in Jimmy outside wanting nothing to do with him, meaning there is no sort of romanticized version of him that he can condition her off of. He knows this, hence, why he always reverts to trying to make her to scared to oppose him.

This sort of give and take of "kindness" doesn't work on her because she knows he is just doing it to take more from her than whatever he could possibly give but it reflects even the "softer" scenes between him and Curly where he always rewords or rephrases Curly's sentiments and concerns to sound more shallow. He is feigning a deeper understanding by reworking Curly's emotions into something bad and needing to be hidden. Everything is laced with envy and resentment, an outburst just around the corner, I mean he even slams the table in the birthday party scene, a tactic in emotional manipulation to set the victim on edge and cloud their ability to respond. Even if Curly knows Jimmy won't get physical in that moment, the physical actions is intended to make him back down in the confrontation in case it does. This is something that is just not person specific. It ingrains itself into how you interact with the world and life and it shows in major and minor ways with Curly.

Post-crash, the abusive nature is more in tandem to the physical victimization Anya went through and the stripping of voice and autonomy we see take place. Like the parasite in HFIM, Jimmy speaks for Curly most of the time and puts words in his mouth, similarly to how he takes Anya's plans as his own. He very commonly, with the both of them mind you, supplements the worst aspects of himself into them; pettiness, selfishness, lack of understanding... And tries to cover himself with their best qualities; kindness, planning, initiative, etc...

These parallel are just to say that positional power has little to do with if a person can be abused and how it can even be flipped to further the abuse. There is no doubt that Curly could've picked up on Jimmy's envy of his position hence another reason he never confronted him as a Captain but as a friend as doing so would immediately put Jimmy in a space to be confrontational/combative.

I think the disdain some people have when they talk about the heavily implied if not implicitly stated emotional/mental abuse Curly experienced being Jimmy's friend is when treating it as an excuse to why he didn't do more. I can understand that completely because it is not an excuse to why he didn't do more but is a very real reason people in his position in these scenarios can experience whether in the context of a work or social environment. However, I also think the way people talk about it really does demonstrate a bigger problem when talking about abuse when somehow who is/was abused is either part of the issue or enabled it.

Harkening back to the sentiments about Curly's inaction regarding Jimmy, I think the exact phrases I used/have seen show how there is an inherent belief that it is easier to overpower the effects of emotional/mental abuse that go in tandem with the perception of Curly as someone who should be able to. There is not an age you suddenly stop being susceptible to abuse nor a set point or low where you realize how it has affected you. You don't suddenly know to stand up or put a face on to face your abuser nor admit that you inadvertently enabled them to subjugate someone else to the same treatment. Maybe it's my psych brain but their is this growing belief that direct action is somehow easy or always the best method with the game shows you instances where it is not always the case. In real life that rings true too. He should have done more, but it's not impossible to see why he struggled to find a way or didn't even if it makes us mad.

It's not easy to suddenly gain a "back-bone". You don't immediately want to resort to aggression, especially if it mirrors the type you were a victim to. You don't want to believe you allowed yourself to be treated this bad, let it get that bad or allowed something bad to happen to someone else. It is easy to be in denial, to retreat to your thoughts or make excuses to avoid the painful truth. It's frustrating but in a way we know is relatable. It why we both hate and love Curly for it. We know we'd be better, we think we'd be better, we like to think we wouldn't falter in the same ways but it's always easier to say that from the outside looking in. It's easy to see what he was doing wrong because we are seeing it, not him, but the game really does make you picture what you would do if this was your raw reality and it's why this debate about Curly seems so never ending/contradictory. We can all say what we'd do but bottom line is that's much different when you're in the moment with all the emotions and human feelings attached.

I personally think Mouthwashing tackles the themes of rape culture, enabling, toxic masculinity, types of abuse and patriarchy in ways that are meant to deconstruct the typical straightforward views we mostly have of these concepts and how little subtilities of them are just as, if not more, detrimental than the overt/obvious parts. The game deals with the idea of little details and bigger picture in a way to show that sometimes the bigger picture is not the issue but the little details that make it up. It's why I have a personal dislike of depictions of Jimmy as the typical horrible person who would of course do something like this because the game is about noticing the little warning signs, the foreshadowing and foresight.

It's why I dislike the typical discussion of "bro code" and "boys will be boys" for the game because the game makes a point to avoid the standard depictions of such. It is about the type of men who still enable despite not condoning, agreeing or even perpetuating harmful beliefs because they can't see the little details or the ways it seeps into their everyday. The severity is not obvious to them as it was not obvious to Curly, Swansea or even Daisuke the way it was to a woman like Anya. There are little details about Jimmy that should ring alarms but if you are too naive like Daisuke, too distant like Swansea or too conditioned like Curly, they are just off markers.

There is 100% more constructive/concise ways to say "Curly was a victim of Jimmy's abuse on an emotional and mental aspect that clouded his judgements and perceptions in the scenario" while also critiquing on the side of "Curly still had a responsibility to protect Anya as a crew mate and Captain that he failed to do due to biases and stigma's he failed to surpass" without the weird condemnation people give him about should've knowing better than to let himself be manipulated by a person he considered a close, if not family/best-friend and had his own reasons to trust initially. Also stop being weird about victims of abuse in general with this fandom, like sorry not everyone has a like social epiphany the moment someone's nasty to them. People are treating it like you immediately know when you are in a toxic relationship immediately or comprehend when a person is actively dangerous and either it's your fault for not knowing how to leave/cut them off or you deserve it. Like the hypocrisy of people believing how certain fans treat the story reflect their irl views but not their own is crazy.

End statement is: I honestly don't even know man, I've been writing this too long and just like no man on that ship was perfect or really helped Anya when it mattered and I feel like pitting them against each other in discussion on who did the least or most or how it was justified sucks cause in the end Anya always did the most and best thing for herself.

[saltyyetbland]

ngl im fucking terrified of how the fandom will act when the asian ccs get added and they are confronted with asian customs such as honorifics, asian cultural norms, and the language itself (ie words that are common in one language that sounds like a slur in another) and i know most of the fandom will be open and welcoming but idk im probably being way too pessimistic as someone who is asian and has seen the bs that people can spew esp regarding things like stereotypes

[gods-perfect-idiots]

❤️💛