#but if you think even harder about it… one might even say they could be half brothers

[l4ndonorizz]

stuck / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: the neighbourhood - stuck with me

summary: you're lando's pr manager and you're fuming because he made a mess again. but he solves the problem when you're stuck in an elevator.

wc: 1.3k

“How are you feeling about this?” you asked, adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you both stepped into the elevator. You didn’t even look at Lando as you spoke, already feeling the headache building at the base of your skull. This wasn’t the first time you had to clean up after one of his slip-ups, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

Lando sighed heavily beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I’d rather be anywhere else,” he muttered, his tone casual, almost as if this was just another day at work.

You shot him a sharp look, your patience already wearing thin. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have to be here if you hadn’t caused a media circus in the first place, would you?”

Lando raised an eyebrow, smirking at your response. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” You could hardly believe what you were hearing. “You literally gave the media a goldmine, Lando! And now I have to deal with the fallout because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Again.”

Lando leaned back against the elevator wall, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying your frustration. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You glared at him. “Don’t start with me. This is serious.”

“I’m always serious,” he said, his tone completely at odds with the grin spreading across his face. “I just think maybe you’re overreacting a little. I mean, it’s my job to get attention, right?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to hold back the irritation bubbling up inside you. “There’s a difference between getting attention for winning a race and getting attention because you’ve said something stupid.”

Lando shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “Yeah, but the media loves a good drama. You should be thanking me for giving you something to do.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that meant you were one second away from snapping. “Oh, right. I should be thanking you for making my life harder? Because now I have to smooth this over so you don’t look like a complete idiot?”

Lando’s grin widened. “Maybe you’re just jealous, huh?”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice teasing. “Maybe all this stress is because you’re a little jealous of the attention I’m getting. You know, from the fans, the press...the ladies.”

You felt your face heat up, a mix of anger and embarrassment rising to the surface. “Jealous? Of you? Absolutely not.”

“Sure,” he said, dragging out the word, clearly not buying it. “You definitely weren’t fuming when that journalist asked me out last week.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I was fuming because it was unprofessional, and we were in the middle of a press conference. Not because I’m jealous.”

Lando shrugged again, his smirk still firmly in place. “If you say so.”

Before you could respond, the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, the lights flickering for a moment before everything went still. You both froze, glancing around the small space.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, pressing the button for the next floor. Nothing. You pressed it again, harder this time. Still nothing.

Lando looked at you, eyebrows raised. “Well, this is awkward.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Of course. Of course this would happen today.”

Lando, ever the optimist, leaned back against the wall again, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. “Guess we’re stuck.”

You shot him a look of pure exasperation. “We can’t be stuck. We have the press conference in less than an hour. I don’t have time for this.”

He patted the floor beside him, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Come on, sit down. Might as well get comfortable.”

You huffed but eventually gave in, sliding down the wall to sit beside him. You were both quiet for a moment, the weight of the situation settling in.

“This is just perfect,” you muttered. “Now we’ll miss the conference, and everyone will assume you’re dodging questions.”

Lando chuckled softly. “Hey, at least we’ll have a good excuse. ‘Sorry, we’re trapped in an elevator.’”

You glared at him. “This isn’t funny, Lando. You’ve put yourself in a bad spot, and now I have to be the one to clean it up. Again.”

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. “You’re really stressed about this, huh?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah, I am. It’s my job to make sure you come out of this looking good, and you keep making it harder.”

Lando was quiet for a beat before nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a pain sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes, though the edge in your voice had softened. “Sometimes?”

He grinned, clearly relieved that you weren’t completely mad at him anymore. “Okay, most of the time. But hey, you’re amazing at what you do. You always fix it.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I have to be, with you around.”

“See?” Lando said, his voice light again. “You should really be thanking me.”

You shot him a playful glare, nudging him with your elbow. “Don’t push it.”

The tension between you softened as the teasing subsided, replaced by something more subtle. Lando looked at you, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than usual, and suddenly the air in the elevator felt different. There was a shift, something unspoken but undeniably present. You were close, closer than you realized, and for the first time, you could feel a kind of weight behind his gaze.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you just how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

You blinked, not expecting the sincerity in his tone. “Lando, it’s my job—”

“No,” he interrupted, leaning in just slightly, his expression serious. “It’s more than that. You put up with me, you deal with all my shit, and... I don’t know. You’re always there.

His words hung in the air, thick with meaning you didn’t quite know how to process. Your heart was pounding, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest as the silence stretched on. Before you could say anything, the elevator jolted, the lights flickered, and the soft hum of the machinery kicked back in. The doors didn’t open yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time.

But then, in that suspended moment, Lando moved closer, his eyes searching yours, and before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant—it was a slow, deliberate kiss, as if he’d been thinking about doing this for a long time. His hand came up to cup your face, and for a second, you forgot about everything—the press conference, the mess he’d caused, the fact that you were his PR manager.

The kiss deepened, your hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders, and for that brief moment, nothing else mattered. Just the two of you, in this small, confined space, finally letting the tension between you spill over.

The elevator doors dinged softly, snapping you both back to reality. You pulled away, your breath coming in short gasps, eyes wide as the situation hit you.

Lando let out a soft, breathless laugh, his forehead resting against yours. “Guess we’ll have to finish that later.”

You could only nod, still too stunned to form words.

With one final smile, Lando stepped out of the elevator, and you followed, your mind still reeling from the kiss that had just changed everything.

[geotjwrs]

Hey there so I want to request a jenna ortega x male reader who is her childhood friend, jenna has a crush on him, and drops a lot of hints, but he is oblivious as he doesn't believe jenna would do be in love with him

me too

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

Jenna laughed as she wiped the flour off her hands, glancing at Y/N, who was kneading dough at the kitchen counter. They were spending a Saturday afternoon doing something that had become a tradition between them—baking. Ever since they were kids, Jenna and Y/N had these little moments together. Over the years, their friendship grew stronger, yet one thing remained unchanged: Y/N was oblivious to Jenna’s feelings, even though she had been dropping hints for what felt like forever.

“Jenna, you’re gonna get flour everywhere,” Y/N teased, flicking some flour in her direction.

“I’m already covered in it, what’s a little more?” she giggled, her eyes lighting up as she watched him laugh in return. She loved seeing that smile. It made her heart race every time, but she played it off like it was just part of their usual banter.

“So, are you ever going to admit that I’m better at this than you?” Y/N smirked, his hands skillfully shaping the dough.

“Ha! As if!” Jenna rolled her eyes, stepping closer to him. “I taught you everything you know, remember?”

“Well, that’s true…” Y/N said with a grin, focusing on the dough. He didn’t notice how Jenna stood right next to him, her face mere inches away. She stared at him, biting her lip slightly, waiting for him to look up, hoping for just a moment where he might notice the way she looked at him. But he didn’t.

“Ugh, you’re so dense,” she muttered under her breath, turning away before he could hear her.

“What?” Y/N asked, confused. He raised an eyebrow and looked over at her, but she was already busy with something else. Jenna shook her head, brushing off her frustration. She could never stay mad at him for long. Not when she knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

Still, she had been waiting for years. Ever since they were kids running around on the playground, Jenna had known there was something different about Y/N. He wasn’t just her best friend; he was the person she wanted to spend every moment with, and as they grew older, those feelings only deepened. But no matter how many times she hinted, he never seemed to pick up on it.

They spent the rest of the afternoon baking cookies, sharing jokes and stories from their childhood. It was comfortable, like always, and that was part of the problem. Jenna didn’t want to ruin what they had, but the longer she waited, the harder it became to hide how she felt.

Later that evening, they sat on the couch, a movie playing in the background, though neither of them was really watching it. Jenna leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers. She had done this before, but tonight, it felt different. There was a nervous energy in her, like she was waiting for something to happen.

“Y/N…” she started, her voice soft.

“Yeah?” he replied, glancing down at her with a smile.

“Do you ever… I don’t know, think about what it’d be like if things were different?” Jenna asked, her heart racing in her chest.

“Different how?” Y/N asked, clearly not understanding what she was getting at.

Jenna sighed, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. She stared at the TV, though her mind was racing with thoughts of how to phrase it. How could she get through to him without just flat-out confessing?

“Like, if we weren’t just friends?” she said, her voice quieter now, almost afraid of what he might say.

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I mean, you’re my best friend, Jenna. I can’t imagine us being anything else.”

Ouch.

Jenna forced a smile, even though that response felt like a punch to the gut. She had expected it, but it still hurt. She nodded, pretending like she was okay with it, but inside, her heart was breaking a little.

“Right… best friends,” she echoed, feeling the weight of those words sink in.

Y/N seemed to notice something in her tone and frowned. “Hey, are you okay? You seem… off.”

Jenna shook her head quickly, not wanting to make things awkward. “No, no, I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess.”

“Okay…” Y/N said, though he still looked concerned.

The rest of the night was quieter than usual. Jenna couldn’t shake the disappointment that settled in her chest. She had been so close to telling him how she really felt, but once again, he didn’t pick up on her hint. Why was he so clueless?

A few days later, Jenna found herself scrolling through her phone, lying on her bed. She was still thinking about that conversation, replaying it over and over in her head. Should she have been more direct? Maybe if she just came right out and said it, things would be different.

A notification popped up on her screen. It was Y/N.

Y/N: Hey, you busy?

Jenna bit her lip, staring at the message. She could feel her heart rate increase just at the sight of his name.

Jenna: Not really. What’s up?

Y/N: Wanna hang out? I was thinking we could grab dinner.

Jenna hesitated. Normally, she’d jump at the chance to spend time with him, but after everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure if she could handle another night of subtle hints and missed opportunities. Still, she couldn’t say no to him.

Jenna: Sure. What time?

Later that evening, they sat across from each other in a cozy little diner, the sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations filling the air. Y/N was telling her about something funny that happened at work, but Jenna wasn’t really listening. She was too busy thinking about how she could finally break through that thick skull of his.

“Jenna? You okay?” Y/N asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just… thinking,” she replied, playing with the straw in her drink.

“About what?” he asked, leaning forward with that curious expression she knew so well.

Jenna took a deep breath. This was it. She had to say something. She couldn’t keep waiting for him to figure it out on his own.

“Y/N, have you ever wondered why I’ve been dropping all these hints lately?” she asked, her voice steady but her heart racing.

Y/N frowned, clearly confused. “Hints? What do you mean?”

Jenna sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, he didn’t know. He never did. But this time, she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily.

“All the times I’ve said things like ‘what if we weren’t just friends’ or leaned on you a little longer than normal? The way I always want to spend time with you? Y/N, I’ve been trying to tell you something, but you’re so… dense,” Jenna said, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

Y/N blinked, processing her words. “Wait… are you saying…?”

Jenna groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Yes! Y/N, I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. But you never seem to notice.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Jenna peeked through her fingers, seeing the shock on Y/N’s face. For a moment, she regretted saying anything. What if she had just ruined everything?

“You… like me?” Y/N asked, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

“Yes, Y/N. I’ve liked you for years, and I’ve been dropping hints, but you never picked up on them,” Jenna said, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety.

Y/N stared at her, still processing everything. Jenna could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought back to all the moments they’d shared over the years. Slowly, realization dawned on his face.

“I… I didn’t know,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t think someone like you would feel that way about me.”

Jenna’s heart softened at his words. She reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. “Y/N, you’re my best friend. Of course, I feel that way about you. I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Y/N looked up at her, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, Jenna. I didn’t mean to be so clueless. I just… never thought you’d see me that way.”

Jenna smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Well, now you know. So… what do you think?”

Y/N smiled back, his thumb brushing over her hand. “I think… I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

Jenna’s heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she finally felt like everything was falling into place.

They walked back to Jenna’s place, hand in hand, the cool evening breeze brushing against their skin. For once, there were no missed hints, no awkward silences. Just the two of them, together, finally on the same page.

As they stood outside her door, Jenna turned to Y/N, a soft smile on her lips. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Y/N grinned, stepping closer to her. “Yeah. But first…”

Before she could say anything, Y/N leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, gentle kiss. It was everything Jenna had been waiting for, and more.

When they finally pulled apart, Jenna couldn’t help but laugh. “Took you long enough.”

Y/N chuckled, his arms still around her. “Better late than never, right?”

Jenna smiled, resting her head against his chest. “Yeah. Better late than never.”

Finally, after all the hints and missed opportunities, they had found their way to each other. And this time, there was no going back.

[jpitha]

Stamina

Downtime on the K’laxi Starbase, and Kelly and Evan wheel their stationary exercise bikes out into the common area and start a ride. If they're not going to be moving anyway, they might as well have a more interesting view than the wall of the exercise room. Before their commission, they both loved the outdoors, and found friendship in trying to keep their two wheeled skills.

The bikes large wheels that hum and whirr as they pedal. After a short warm up, they both get into the rhythm of motion, enjoying the feeling of their muscles being used. To help with overheating, Evan set up a fan to circulate air on them. Evan was used to short rides, but Kelly wanted him to build stamina. She was even working out how to connect a sensorium so they could ride "outside." For it to be worthwhile, she wanted a long ride, so she was trying to get him to be able to finish a century - a ride of one hundred miles (an obsolete form of measurement).

After a few moments, some K'laxi stop and watch them as they work out. Kelly and Evan, heads down as they pedal, don't seem to notice.

After half an hour or so of pedaling Evan lifted his head and looked at Kelly. “You know what I’m sick of?”

Kelly looked up from her bike. “The whole Deathworlder thing?”

Evan nodded emphatically. “Yes! I don’t think it’s fair that everyone says Earth is a Deathworld. It implies that we’re some kind of strange being. It’s othering!” Evan was gesturing with his water bottle as he spoke. The K'laxi watching were focused on the bottle being swung around, seemingly entranced by the droplets of water that Evan was flinging around.

Kelly leaned up off the handlebars, but kept pedaling. She started counting things on her fingers. “There’s plenty of other worlds that have storms, plenty of other sapient peoples that are strong, lots of places with large moons, plenty of other places like Earth.”

“Exactly! They are working so hard to fit us into a stereotype, and then they don’t have to learn about us as individuals.” Evan's water bottle was just leaking now, and droplets increased. Kelly blinked when drops hit her face. One of the K'laxi took a step back.

As they talked, the crowd grew. Deep in concentration on their ride, they didn't notice the attention that they have garnered. A Gren in the back gestured with his mouthparts, and two others joined him. A small group of Innari fluffed their feathers in agitation as they watched the humans continue to spin. Even a few humans stood on the sidelines of the crowd and grinned. They wanted to see what the others would do.

Evan and Kelly pedaled in silence for a while longer until Pen couldn't stand it any longer. His friends nudged him and whispered encouragement for him to finally speak up. “You realize you’re having this conversation, on a K’laxi Starbase, while pedaling your excise bicycles at-" He looked over at a readout on Kelly' bike "-180 watts for at least one standard hour now?”

Even looked surprised. “We’re doing a century!”

"That's when you ride continuously for 160 kilometers or so." Kelly sounded matter of fact as she reached down and took a sip from her own water bottle.

One of the Innari squawked, “You’re not even breathing heavy!” The others around them bobbed their heads in agreement.

Kelly looked over at the Innari who spoke up. When they locked eyes, the Innari looked down, their feathers flat, embarrassed. “You know what? They're right, Evan. Time to step it up.”

As Evan grinned and pedaled harder, he looked up and finally noticed the crowd that had gathered. There were maybe 10 or 12 people watching the two humans pedal without going anywhere. Some in the back were having quiet wagers about how long they could go on. A human was collecting the bets, not even trying to hide her smile.

The murmurs of the crowd finally got the better of Kelly. "Just what... are you all... doing here?" Kelly panted.

"Um.. just watching you pedal?" A young K'laxi in the front offered and took a nervous step back.

"I can see that, but why?"

"You're riding so much and you aren't even tired!" Another in the back added.

Nods and noises from assent from the crowd. They watched, fascinated as the human's active cooling started kicking in and they both developed a sheen of... liquid on their skin. They called it sweating. The K'laxi called it weird. The Innari called it disgusting.

A Gren on the side of the crowd joined in. "Yeah! How long can you go? I've got 30 stars with Mel'itar that says you can't go the full 160 kilometers without stopping."

A Sefigan near the front frowned and looked like he was having a conversation with his translator. “My translator says a century is 100, but you’re doing 160km?”

Evan sighed. “160 kilometers is 100 miles. That’s the century”

"What's a mile?" A K'laxi child from the crowd interrupted. Sounds of assent from the crowd.

"Old measurement. We don't use it anymore." Kelly finally started to sound like she was having difficultly speaking while she was exerting herself, a good while after Evan started breathing heavily.

The same Innari that spoke up earlier - Soft Autumn Breeze - stared at them out of one eye, and then the other. "You're pedaling the equivalent of one hundred sixty kilometers In one session?” It sounded like they were amazed in addition to being frustrated. Soft worked with Evan in the greenhouse, but had no idea he did... this in his spare time. It was perplexing. All this work and effort for no reason?

“Yeah” Kelly said between breaths “doesn’t count if you stop and take a break.”

Evan used his nearly empty water bottle to point at the Innari. "You're making it sound weird Soft, it's not weird."

"Evan, it is weird." Soft said, emphatically. "What you're doing is weird. You're... pretending to ride a two wheeled sapient powered conveyance on a starbase for an unreasonably long distance without stopping. If I tried that - even if you built one of those... things that fit my leg geometry, I'd collapse and die within two standard hours."

"Soft, I am riding it, it's not pretending." Evan countered.

"We're not going anywhere though, maybe that's what he means." Kelly said.

Evan shrugged. "Well, he should have said that."

By now, the crowd had started to argue about how long each species could last riding a bike. Most agreed that the humans would out-ride them full stop, but both the Gren and the Sefigans felt they could give a real challenge... for the first few hours at least. One of the humans in the crowd started taking measurements, and was designing a bike that could be printed for other species to ride. After a while a whole spin class was being set up.

Soft opened his mouth and clacked shut it again. His feathers fluttered in frustration, and he sighed dramatically. He turned around and walked away from the crowd. “Deathworlders” he muttered.

"Hey Soft, don't use that word, remember the training? The humans find it hurtful." Another Innari said as he walked by.

"Argh!" Soft stomped away as the noise of the crowd dissipated.

[wraithdance]

Stray Dogs | GHOAP x Reader

Synopsis: You never had a problem with strays, but you should have been wary of the rabid dogs begging to be leashed.

Note: F!Reader, No phys. description but reader has background story, no y/n use, Reader is LGBTQ (Bi/Pan) w/ Avoidant attachment issues. Content warning: Mature | avoidant attachment traits, mentions of slight self harming behavior, sexually explicit content, mentions of p in v sex, description of ptsd episode, brief mention of animal death plz skip the last sentence if that may be a trigger.

Chapter two: Soap won’t go home

[4:57 AM]

You were not ‘blissfully slumbering in no time’.

Instead you were having another panic attack in a bathroom.

It would be a consolation that this time you’re at home, but you know for a fact that the Scot you let come over for a quick screw is outside the door waiting. The thought brings more hot angry tears down your cheeks as another bout of trembling makes your teeth chatter violently. 

Johnny knocks on the door again. “Hen, are ye okay?”

You hope he feels your glare burning through the plywood separating you both. It’s so tempting to shriek ‘what the fuck do you think?’, maybe it would even be cathartic.

You wish you could say it. Mean and cruel in return for the simple kindness of asking after your rightness in the world. But the same something that always sits on your chest when you think about doing what you really want constricts you like a Boa.

Swallowing the bitter angry words like thick cough syrup you bite out a shaky, “I’m fine.” 

You know he doesn’t believe you, you can hear his weight shift on the creaky tile in front of the door that you never got around to fixing.

“Bonnie, can ye open the door, just want to check on ye.”

You turn on the tap to the bathtub instead to drown him out. Shoving your hands under the scalding hot water, attempting to focus on trying to get the freezing chill out of your limbs. 

Everything had been going so well. 

Johnny fucked like a dog. A dirty disgusting dog that wouldn’t take his tongue or cock out of your body long enough for you to think much less breathe. He’d had no issue with letting you dominate, had enthusiastically agreed after sloppily and relentlessly coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you with his tongue and fingers. 

There was a point you thought you might have died a little, as the time between him pressing an exploratory tongue into your asshole before licking up to your clit with harsh pulls, evaporated.

You’d suddenly come back to reality to him pumping two, then three fingers into your sex and tapping on the bundle of nerves inside your body in a come hither motion.

Johnny had worn a self satisfied, shit eating grin on his face when he’d finally come up for air. His jaw and throat slick with your fluids. He’d been anything but subtle about how much it turned him on to see you fucked out and barely functioning.

It’d hurt your ego more than just a little bit. You’d prided yourself on being the one to leave your partners in utter bliss.

It was the least you could do for being a no good, emotionally destitute that only hurt them in the end.

With the intent to redeem yourself you had pushed him to the floor none too lightly, dropping to your knees and diving for his swollen cock. He’d tried to pull your hair and rut into your throat before you bit the skin at his hip and snarled threats at him. It only made the bastard harder.

You’d swallowed him deep, humming around the saliva and solid length of him, satisfied with the roar he lets out in his release.

It took him less than ten minutes to get hard again. He’d pouted at the box of condoms you’d thrown at him but had been pleased when you rolled the latex on his reddened shaft with your mouth.

That’s how you found yourself boneless on top of his body as he pressed long, steady strokes into your cunt. You’d ridden him for as long as you could before the burn in your knees and thighs became too much. Johnny cooed sticky sweet things in your ears with his arms wrapped tight around you like a vice.

“Aye hen are ye tired? Let Johnny make it better, just open for me, I’ll make it better, promise, look at ye, pretty thing I’ve got ya.” Every other word enunciated with an upward thrust.

“Aye I gotcha, yer doing good hen.” He’d panted in your ear with a rasp.

The combination of him hitting the spot deep inside of you like a game of ring the bell and the crooning affirmations, had been too much. To your horror your eyes had prickled with tears. You’d bitten the inside of your lips raw, desperately trying to muffle the broken sobs that clawed up your throat, pushing back against his chest fighting for space. 

Johnny had held you tighter, one palm against your back and the other tight around your neck as he worked you both through a pitiful orgasm that had you seeing stars. Until he’d flipped you over, pinning you into a mating press. 

You’d hyperventilated until you blacked out.

You’re scowling at the way your skin puckers beneath the rushing water. You’re still numb. The trauma therapist at the psych hospital was full of it, distress tolerance didn't actually do shit for distress.

The bathroom lock jiggles and you’re whipping your head to the opening door in panic as it swings open. 

Johnny’s blue eyes are remorseful but that quickly turns to horror. You jerk your arm out from under the water and try to hide it behind your side but Johnny is faster. He’s across the floor in less than two wide strides and forcing your arm from behind you despite your jerking.

“What are ye doing? Hen, look at your arm!”

“I was checking the temperature, I’m fine.” He gives you a look of disbelief and grunts something unintelligible under his breath. He ignores your protests and shuts off the water, freezing you with a warning look when you lift your hand to stop him. 

In the sudden quiet he searches your face, you glower. 

“Come here.”

He doesn’t wait for you to decide to be cooperative, he’s maneuvering his hands around you, one on the back of your neck and the other beneath your chin. Johnny sinks to the bathroom floor to his knees and presses his forehead against yours. 

“Breathe for me, ye can do it bonnie, deep breaths.”

He’s too close. His breath fans across your face, the sensation shocking a sob out of you.  You’re stiffening with panic at the sudden flood of feeling racing down your spine. 

“I’m fine, I just need you to back up-” 

Johnny thumbs his finger across your jaw in slow swiping movements. 

“Breathe. I’m nae asking.”

Fuck.

You take stuttering breaths, he counts each one telling you to hold on the exhale.

In. Out. Good lass, I’ve got ye.

He’s lying to you. But you do what he asks anyway.

Johnny lets you pull back only when the trembling stops. His watchful eyes are bright. Soft. It makes your stomach churn.

“I’m good.” you whisper “You don’t have to stay.” 

He gets the double meaning you're only marginally trying to cover up. Instead of offense he’s smirking and there’s a layered glint in his eyes, like you’ve challenged him.

“Are ye tryin’ to get rid of me?”

Yes!

“No,” Standing from the lip of the tub, you try to side-step his large form. He watches you like a hawk, observing your awkward inch towards the door into the darkened hallway.  “I just have an early morning, so I should get some rest, I’m sorry.”

Letting out a humorless laugh he rolls his shoulders back, ambling to his feet. He keeps an eye on your skittish retreat, taking a step for every one of your own until he’s in the doorway, lifting his arms to hold on to the frame. 

It’s the first time you notice he’s still bare ass naked. 

Tan skin and darkened hair coat the expanse of his body along with various scarring. You’re staring at the small circular puckered skin on his thigh when his cock twitches where it hangs. 

Johnny’s wolfish grin makes an appearance at your grimace.

“Aye, he’s a bit tuckered out as well, hen.” The Scot reaches for you, rubbing his hands down your arms, tucking his thumb beneath his stolen shirt, “We should get some sleep, yeah?”

No, not yeah. He really needed to get the fuck out.

You stiffen in his hold, panic rising in your chest rapidly and he notices. Johnny pulls back to look at you, guiding your chin back to face him when you try to duck your face. He tells you to breathe deep, you hate that you follow his instructions again.

“Ye won’t even know I’m here, promise. C’mon hen, I’ll make ye some tea.”

You’re quietly watching him from your seat at the island. He’s too comfortable in your small kitchen, yawning while he waits for the ancient kettle to heat up.

His thick arms are crossed against his chest and his head nods off as he falls asleep while standing. He’d had the decency to retrieve his boxers when you’d protested about his dick hanging around your food stuff.

You pick at the hangnail on your index finger until it bleeds.

“Why did you defend me?”

Johnny blinks, confusedly coming back from his half sleep. “What’s that, Bonnie?” 

“Tonight,” you say slowly, “why did you fight that guy at the bar? It was because of me right?”

Johnny is quiet. You’d suspect he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open but he cracks his neck after a beat.

“Cause you look like ye needed defending. Didnae like his gommy mug eith’r.”

That causes you to shift in the stool. Johnny takes the kettle off of the stove eye and pours the water over the expired green tea packet he’d found hidden in the depths of your cupboards. When he places down the cat mug Duckie had gotten you for your birthday in front of you, you hesitantly speak.  

“What do you mean by that? That I needed defending?”

Johnny looks like he’s weighing his options before he answers. Furrowed brow and dark lashes partially obscure his electric eyes but don’t dampen the intensity of his gaze. When he concludes some kind of internal war he leans his elbow on the counter in front of you and boxes you in. His eyes tighten at the corners when you lean as far back in the chair as you can. 

“Never been one to walk by when a bonnie lass is in trouble and you looked like ye were on the way to makin’ trouble. Had this look in yer eyes.”

You pretend to not know what he’s talking about. “So if you thought I was ugly you’d have let him maul me?”

His laugh is too boisterous for the early morning, it echoes in the small kitchen. It sends warmth down to your toes to hear it. “Nae I’d ��ave still hit him, hen. Drink yer tea for Johnny yea?”  

He makes sure you finish every drop, rolling his eyes when you dump enough sugar to rot your teeth. He says something about you being like a stubborn friend of his but refuses to elaborate.

It’s a quarter past six by the time he argues you down about letting him stay with you. His wide form swallows up half the mattress and he still pulls you to him like it’s not enough. Your skin prickles where his touches, the synapses in your brain telling you to distance yourself as fast as you can. Johnny’s hold is tight, he redirects your form back into his every time you try to slip away, so you give up.

You have restless dreams of your grandfather’s rooster, Spirit.  The sound of the bird's neck snapping as corporeal and audible as Johnny’s snores against your neck.

A/N: plz I beg, don't ask me when the next update will be. I am insane in a way that is concerning to the DSM-5 and this takes a lot of my own personal experience and years of therapy to write lmao. Gonna up the rating in the upcoming chapters and start diving into the juicy shit so warning in advance.

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[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 10

Kara sets her phone on do not disturb the instant the first unrecognized number flashes across the screen. Keeping hold of Lena's hand, she sits them both on the edge of the bed as she dials the only other person she wants to talk to.

"Kara!" Alex exclaims. Her voice then dims as she turns to call the others. "It's Kara!"

"Hey," Kara says, keeping her voice steady. "You're on speaker. I've got Lena with me."

Lena leans closer to the phone, resting against Kara's side in the process.

"Hi."

"Hi, Lena." As Kara expects, it takes more than a global superstar to faze her sister. "Are you two okay?"

Kara nods. "Yeah. We're okay."

"We're more concerned about you guys." Lena glances at Kara. "I'm worried your family might be pulled into this."

It will only be a matter of time before internet sleuths find Kara's old social media, and for her identity to be shared with the entire world. But where Kara had consented to her relationship with Lena, her sister's family hadn't agreed to be drawn into it along with her.

"We'll be okay," Kelly chimes in.

Lena shakes her head. "Let us send a car. We can get you to a hotel until we see how far they'll dig."

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary..."

"But what if it is?" Lena asks softly.

What about Esme, goes unsaid. A long beat of silence passes, and Kara imagines Kelly looking to Alex for guidance, and Alex's own indecision.

"Lena's team has more experience and greater resources to handle this sort of thing," Kara adds. "They can book you guys under fake names, assign security--"

"Security?" Kelly interrupts, her voice laced with fear. "You don't think..."

"We don't know anything at this point," Lena rushes in, doing her best to allay the immediate worry without downplaying the risk. "But I don't think we should assume the best, either."

Alex is the next to speak. To Kara's surprise, her sister doesn't speak to her.

"Lena."

Kara glances at the woman beside her. Lena's features are as somber as Alex's voice sounds, but her brow is creased with thought.

"How bad can this get?"

Lena takes a deep breath.

"I can't say for sure."

While it's not a firm answer, Kara knows Lena isn't sugarcoating anything-- it's just too soon and too volatile to anticipate an outcome with any kind of certainty.

"You've had high profile relationships before," Alex counters.

"Yes," Lena concedes. She takes a breath, shoulders sagging as though in defeat. "But this is different."

Alex makes the connection before Kara does.

"Because you're women."

A jolt travels down Kara's spine. She shoots a glance towards Lena, who looks at her helplessly.

"Yes," Lena confirms. "I've been in relationships with women before, but not publicly."

"Do you intend to hide this one too?"

Lena glances at Kara, cheeks flushing with guilt.

"That decision hasn't been made." That the option is even on the table sends a frission of displeasure through Kara, but Lena's tone-- while conciliatory-- is pragmatic. "But even the implication could make a lot of waves. And if people get angry, and they can't get to us..."

"They'll go after us," Alex finishes for her.

Lena nods, her features mournful. "It's a possibility. Online, in the media, or even picketing..."

Kara knows Alex's decision before she says it.

"Okay." Then, "just until we know more."

"Of course."

Alex sighs over the line. "Any other recommendations?"

"I would limit screen time; things might get... nasty. And the less you see, the less you might be tempted to join the fray."

Kara's thoughts turn to Esme, and as though reading her mind, Lena continues.

"Alex... Kelly... I know you don't know me. But-- I want to protect you and your family as much as I can in this. I wasn't much younger than Esme when all this started for me, and-- I don't want to make this any harder for her than it has to be."

Kara gives Lena's hand a squeeze, prompting Lena to lean a little more of her weight against her shoulder in return.

"Thank you, Lena," Kelly says, voice soft. "We appreciate your guidance on this."

Kara leans forward intently, bringing the phone a little closer.

"Lena's team will coordinate everything," she offers, "and I'll be in touch with more details as soon as I have them. We'll take each day as it comes, and adjust however we need to."

"Kara can send you my number," Lena agrees. "If any of you need anything, at any time, please call me."

"We will," Kelly promises.

Alex sighs. "We should go tell Esme."

Kara bites her lip. "She's seen?"

"Who do you think showed us?"

Shit. Kara's teeth grind in frustration. "Is she upset?"

"Nah. Not really. I think maybe a little hurt that she found out with the rest of the world, but mostly thrilled?" Alex sighs. "I don't know. Teenagers are hard."

That makes Kara chuckle. She wipes a tired hand over her face. Barely an hour had passed since she woke up, but it feels like a lifetime. "Yeah."

"We'll let you two go. Stay safe."

"You too," Kara returns. "We'll be in touch."

[hardlyinteresting]

To Have and To Hold

Jake Seresin x Reader

Jake comes home

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please), I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended) Word count: 1.8K

The floorboards creak with the weight of his footsteps still. there's a strange comfort in the sounds of this old house settling; the hum of the refrigerator downstairs, the quiet slide of his socks across wood floors. If he listens carefully, he can hear the whistle of the wind blowing past the window he meant to reseal all those months ago. The reminder of another missed task weighs heavy in his heart; a failure to provide a safe, warm home. It's the little things that matter most, his mama's voice reminds him, but it's the little things he so often misses-- always overlooked with the prayer that he won't be made a liar when he says he'll do it later. 

Time plays him for a fool. At 35 he rushes to make sure he meets the milestones he set out for himself, steadfast and resilient in his resolve to do more-- to be more. He breaks records, and sets precedents. But, he struggles to relax. Breathing doesn't come easy to him when it's not through his aviator's mask. In for seven, out for five. He counts the seconds of his inhales and exhales grounding himself in the moment. 

He does his best to hold tight to the moments he has here, But still, it never seems to be enough. like sand through an hourglass it all seems to slip away from him; these new found days of domestic bliss escape through his fingers like the memories of his childhood back in Texas. He wonders if one day he might be afforded the chance to pick up all the pieces and fit them together in some semblance of a “normal” life. He worries about his time away from home, what he's missed, and worse yet what he stands to miss if this life is taken from him too soon. 

Tonight marks the end of a six month separation, and tomorrow morning the count down to his next inevitable departure will begin. Always running out of time. It never used to bother him, it exhilarated him even, time blasting by in a blink of an eye. Back when he was younger, back when he had nothing to lose, and no idea what he stood to gain by sticking around. Now he worries about the quality of the lock on the front door, he thinks about restaining the floor downstairs and fixing up the kitchen. Domestic life snuck up on him. Slowly but surely his house became a home. Sun-baked bricks and weather-worn siding, with a shade of green paint he's been told matches his eyes. Four walls and roof that keep the outside world at bay. 

Down the hall in their bedroom, he Expects to find his wife sleeping, waiting in dreams for him to come home to her. It's the part of his job he struggles with the most now. It's so hard to leave this life they've built now that part of him is forever tethered to the earth. 

“I worry sometimes that I'm holding you back,” she confessed one night, “your job is hard enough as it is…I don't want to make it harder for you”. He hadn't been able to find the words to tell her how wrong she was.How could he describe the ways she had changed him? 

The need to return home to her never leaves him stunted in the sky, it fuels him. Long gone are the days where he fought just to be seen; she sees him. He's quick up there, tens of thousands of feet above the ground, he's calm and he's brilliant. His colleagues can call him cocky all they want, but his confidence is founded on his proven ability, and sometimes it's necessary to show off a little bit even if it's just so he can have another story to tell his sweetheart when he gets home. He imagines himself writing her name in the sky, carving her likeness in the clouds, a blazing trail racing home to her. 

So many of his earlier years had been spent playing the field too afraid to commit, too afraid to be loved. Adaptability, while necessary for his job, had never been his strong suit. A tiny part of him deep in the back of his mind always left the hair at the back of his neck on end when faced with change.

He had struggled in school, not academically, but socially and learned to over compensate to make up for his discomfort. The navy had given him the structure he had craved, a way to make his bed and fold his clothes, instructions that weren't open to interpretation. Living on his own allowed him to follow the same schedule and practices as he did on base.  In a split second, his life on the line, he never hesitates, but sustained change to his daily life left him nauseated. Welcoming another person into his life, and into his home had pushed him past the edges of where he believed his comfort laid, but forced him to confide in a support system outside of routine. 

Over the course of a few weeks her belongings joined his, sprinkled through out the house like a treasures to be found. Without a word she had taken care to intermix her books with the few of his own on the shelf, sorting them by alphabetical order just as he'd been doing for years. His anxiety slowly waned as his darling girl continued to prove she understood him better than anyone else ever had. 

“Do you prefer flying at dusk or dawn?” She had asked a few weeks after she moved in. curled up on their sofa, her head tucked under his chin, college football playing on the tv, she traced invisible shapes across his chest. “I don't have a preference, sweetheart. I just like flying,” his response felt half-baked, but it was the honest-to-good truth. 

“But if you had to pick?” she persisted. He weighed his answer before giving it to her, “if I had to pick, it would be dusk. There’s a moment, if you're up at the right time where you can see the night sky blending into the sunset…the sky is a gray-blue and you can see the sun at the horizon and the little pinpricks of stars”. 

“It sounds beautiful,” her smile was soft and genuine when she cupped his cheek to make sure he was looking at her. A habit of hers, not letting him hide away from the softer parts of himself, she seemed to so easily pull out. “It is”.

That weekend he’d spent 72 hours on base and returned home on Monday evening to the faintest smell of fresh paint. In the low evening light, it took him a moment to figure it out, standing puzzled in the middle of the living room, still dressed in his service khakis trying to identify the source of the smell. “You’re home!” she’d grinned coming down the stairs, her jeans and t-shirt splattered with gray. It’s then he noticed with his darling girl looking so proud of herself, the walls of the living room coated in a soft heather blue-grey, no longer just a coat of contractor-grade white reflecting the shade of twilight through the windows. Flicking on the light he watched her grow nervous as he felt his brow furrow processing the unexpected change. “Do you like it?” she asked. 

“It’s perfect, baby,” he promised pulling her close and kissing her thoroughly, “It’s beautiful”. 

A few months later he came home from work to find his shower gel and shampoo had both been replaced by a new set. Confused and with no other option, he chose to use them, deciding he liked the smell of eucalyptus and mint much more than he'd liked sport: for men anyway. 

“Baby, what happened to my shower gel?” 

“You were complaining about how dry your skin has been”.

“Hmm,” the consideration to change his routine to better himself hadn't occurred to him before she moved in. 

More recently he'd come home from a night out with the squadron, and woken up under a Forest green duvet, a jarring difference to the burgundy plaid cover he'd owned for years. Momentary panic filled his chest. Like a sharp, sudden plunge into cold water he'd gasped his eyes scanning the room to confirm his location. The familiar scent of her perfume, the sound of the ocean breeze, assured him he was in fact in their room. In the dark when he'd come home, colour of the duvet hadn't been noticeable and he found himself mildly embarrassed by how badly it startled him. Her hand reaching out for him, stretching across the sheets to touch him lured him back to a flat position letting her snuggle herself right up against his side. It was then he noticed that the weight of the blanket was the same as before, and it was just as plush as it had always been. Her on going respect for his comfort continued to leave him floored. A memory of her texting him to ask his favourite colour (green) filled his mind and left him drifting back to sleep with a smile on his face. 

Secretly, he'd begun to look forward to the tiny changes she brought into his life and into the house. The littlest reminders of their strengthening bond, their lives stitching together in more tangible and visible ways. The Navy had taught him to think literally, latteral thinking developed and honed to reach conclusions and make decisions quickly and effectively, but the metaphor of their lives blending like the presence of her belongings along side his own, and freshly painted walls is not lost on him. 

Tonight the house is quiet as it often is when he returns so late. He knows if she knew what day he was set to come back home she would've done her best to stay awake for him, dozing off on the sofa with the living room curtains wide open, hoping to catch the sight of his headlights pulling into the driveway. It's thoughts of her safe and waiting for him that have pulled him through this latest deployment, so he does his best not to disturb her sleep as he makes his way to her. Like a silent sirens call an unspeakable force drags him through the house. His boots are left by the door, laces tucked in. His bag is heavy in his hand, more than just its physical weight tugging at him, and he's glad to be able to put it down by the bedroom door. 

“Welcome home,” she whispers stirring from her sleep as he slips beneath the sheets, freshly showered. 

[tirfpikachu]

sometimes i feel like, in certain cases, "detrans woman" and "nonbinary woman" ain't too different. and could even be used simultaneously by the same person without much issue. after all, isn't processing internalized misogyny and escaping the gender roles box for womanhood also a way someone can at the same time not feel like a binary man, not feel like a binary woman, but not feel like a not-woman either? after unlearning all the bullshit male society taught us, it can be destabilizing and create distance between us and other women. we might no longer feel like a normie woman. we've been awakened. we're no longer a gender roled woman, rolled up in everything she was taught she needed to be or she would fail at womanhood. we're an unfailible woman, we can't get a bad grade in womanhood bc we don't care about gender grades. we know it's all bullshit. we took back the power patriarchal society had over us. in that sense, we're not willingly binary anymore. and i think, over time, it's only going to get harder and harder to find women who are happily into the gender roles, the gender box assigned to them.

people fucking hate that, ofc. especially male people, and doubly so cis/bio men. they hate that we're awakened women. they hate that we found feminism and sisterhood and go detrans or use nonbinary in addition to woman, bc we reconnect with our body type and our upbringing. and by they, i mean both sides btw. the patriarchy hates that we found our power, of course. non-feminists scoff at us.

and... mainstream trans activists hate that our journey got us here, and hate how we make dysphoria seem curable in unmedical ways and transness more complex than they like to think. we complicate things. they hate that they found power in changing themselves (whatever makes them feel at peace ofc), while we tried to as well, but in the process we found our power was within us all along. we found that just being neutrally sexed animals, just female humans, female animals, girls the way that one calls a cat a sweet girl, cat first girl second, human first girl second... our bodies, our gender category, don't define us. anymore, anyways. anyone who defines us by our womanhood is a bigot, and we scrubbed our brains free of all the shit patriarchal brainwashing left in us. and for us, personally, it was enough to free us. that's not the case for anymore. some folks need more than that. some folks need to modify themselves beyond recognition to feel at peace with themselves. but i do hope they know that deep down, they were always good beings all along. i hope they know that gender is bullshit and sex says nothing about anyone's worth, personality, goals, interests, etc. it says fuckall about any of that. i don't care if i get a male or female rabbit. a rabbit is a rabbit. if i feel affection for a new pet, our connection is what matters [*]. i would never assign someone gender roles based on their sex. but it's sadly done way too often by parents and male society. if you're trans, temporarily or forever, you gotta clean up all your internalized misogyny and sexism/gncphobia. find kinship with other female people, or male gnc people if you're male. just check off some boxes. clean everything up. deep-clean your mind and your heart first.

[*] insert tras here being like, "why can't you be like that about dating? you dirty close-minded terfy homo dyke? why can't you love beyond genitals? beyond just bodies?" and these days i laugh and laugh and laugh at that shit because wow they have zero clue!! they don't know the sense of peace at having my female/afab body against another female/afab body, at knowing we were born the same, at knowing we went thru the same growing up, at knowing we understand eachother so, so deeply without saying a word bc she is what i am, she is where i have been, and i have suffered as she has suffered, and we are a love born of the connection all female beings share, the connection of bio dick havers treating us as prey. not knowing we're more powerful than they could ever dream of. do bodies like ours not hold the godly powers of creation itself? are we not gods in the literal sense, born creators, who get to choose if a new life should be made? do we not hold the future in the palm of our hand? to the dismay of penised beings? and do me and my beloved not love eachother only the way two gods could love one another, knowing the struggle, knowing the power? is the patriarchy not fighting tooth and nail to control us, wrestle us into submission before their phallic altar? do they not know it's impossible, for everything in us would dry up at the sight? do they not know that we can rely on sisterhood to get us through fucking anything? do they not know we masculinized ourselves and found ourselves happily female anyway? do they not know that i'd love her with a beard and five eyes, but if she was reborn male we would not be the same people to begin with (tho ofc i like to think the bodyswapped versions of us would have a love story too, we would not be us anymore, not this timeline's love story, she would be a different version of her and i would miss our og love)? because what is anyone without memories, and aren't childhood memories, puberty memories, some of the experiences most affected by one's body type (under the patriarchy), some of the most developmentally significant memories of all? is female just genitalia and estrogen puberty to tras, to "hearts not parts" type folks?

is female just a meat suit and not also the life experiences linked to it, our upbringing, a rich female culture one is born into? trans women might be immigrants into this female culture if they pass post-transition, they might get the exact body, but they just don't know the culture the way born into it do. any transfem will admit being transfem is hard, it's hard to merge into female culture when they self-admittedly don't know much about it. anyone not having been born into this culture, not being fluent the way only a native resident of femaleness can be, will show signs of it even if it's been 50+ years. you can't just wipe someone's upbringing clean, your past always leaves traces, and a transfem wouldn't be able to bond with other female4female lesbians on basic female upbringing things... when those are the things that make being into other female ppl so attractive for many of us! we just get eachother. we understand without even saying anything. we understand female body issues. there's a warm sense of peace emanating from that knowledge in my heart, knowing me and my girlfriend were born the same. we went through so many of the same things, all the good and the bad sides of growing up female. and i find that attractive as hell, and it brings me immense joy in life. there's so many inside jokes a transfem just wouldn't get the way my gf can. and i unfortunately need to add, since people get defensive, that this isn't shaming the transfem for not having those experiences. i hope the transfem will come to terms with not being female too. she can be a woman in society, but she's not born this way, she's an immigrant into womanhood, and that's okay. she still needs to let lesbians who are only into people raised female enjoy our unique sexuality that she just can't understand. i can't understand the transfem4transfem experience either. so what? isn't lgbt or 2slgbtqia+ or whatever culture all about inclusion and diversity in sexuality and gender expression? what about those who are girls the way animals are girls? we hate gender roles but we're personally definining cis womanhood as being female animals, female humans? what's so twisted about that? what about female4female lesbians? transmasc4transmasc can exist, why not us? why make everything so stupidly complicated for no reason? why shame us for how we were born, for being into others like ourselves?

i pity them, honestly. watch them bring girldick and male upbringing experiences to female4female lesbians, watch as we'll all dry up like the dying succulents on our windowsills and sip drinks laughing at the naked male bodies before us because they're so unsexual to us homodykes. watch as we raise eyebrows at the male's lack of misogyny in her upbringing, her lack of expertise on female culture, and just... everything that's so fundamentally unappealing to us. we can be friends. we can be allies. thankfully though, sex and marriage isn't activism. you can't play woke in the sheets. if you do, that's honestly sad. love isn't political. heteros made it political, but love is just love. and the love between two female people is normal. boring at times, even. we're normies. and if mainstream tras can't see that, well, maybe they have issues to work through in therapy. idk.

if two dysphoric ppl working through really hard shit end up feeling at peace with being female animals, female humans, and loving one another, if that's threatening, if that's bigoted, if that's twisted, well...

we detrans chicks and homodykes will find our own place to hangout. and we'll be nice to your faces, of course, but behind doors we're having a blast with others like ourselves. people like us have done this for as long as humanity has been alive, anyways. we always go underground and make it work anyhow. radblr is proof of that. idc if i have to go door to door checking if any homodyke is there, or if i have to comb thru tra spaces to find cool detrans folks, i will find others like me. that's what the marginalized have always done.

we're like lizards. we'll just find a cooler rock to party under🦎✌️

[natsunenuko]

TW // mental issues, mental absue, harassment, surgery/blood

I'm sorry this one is so long, but please carry on reading. It's a chance for me to not only speak about the situation but let out some steam too. It is unfortunate this announcement comes at the same time the flood occurs on the south of my home country (Poland) and I'm in the endangered zone, luckily so far safe, as I feel my head can't handle more stress.

It's been so long since I've been this personal online. I realized how I didn't feel the urge to vent for 3-4 years by now which is a sign of improving mental health. But my healing is still a process, and I'm afraid it's too hard to carry this rock alone at this point. I fought my thoughts if I should do this and I think just as deeply as I write right now. Yet, I know it's better late than never and I thank deeply my friends for helping me out recently as well as in the past in my lowest. I wholeheartedly owe my life to you.

I couldn't ask for better friends. As years verified, even long lasting relationships might be nothing but a mask and I had to learn the hard way. I ended a friendship of 13 years at the time over a misunderstanding. Other person I put my trust on was nothing but a groomer with morally corrupted sexual tendencies who would take advange of a group of minors while being the only adult among them, yet acting like a person much younger than all of them and pressuring all their mental issues on children instead of seeking help. The latter, I might speak of more in detail when I'm ready.

Long time ago I tried calling out for help but back then, the intrusive thoughts won; "Others have it worse, just work harder.", "No one will give you anything for free, no one will care.", "What people will think of you?". and I would only speak about these things in a closed circle of my friends.

I tried my best in silence by not giving up on my creative passion, working restlessly for years, improving. Hoping I could reach the point I can sustain myself purely on what I make.

But the problem is not being self-sufficient. And it's not about my art...

All of my life it has been me, my momma and my granny. The other two important figures weren't there for us, by choice. (which is hard to say if losing someone you loved is worse than not being cared for in the first place) My rather young self at the time didn't put much thought about it as I didn't understand it but something always felt wrong; my only issues at the time was being "that weird, quiet kid with little to no friends". But despite the hardships, my momma has always been my hero, working without a time for a break or rest so we could live happily, to afford something special from time to time.

However in 2014 my momma has been hospitalised and almost lost her life to wrongly treated ovarian cyst (cyst rapture), with enough blood loss to require emergency surgery...

From that point on things went downhill and the result of that we feel to this very day. To stay afloat we fell into a severe dept. (We didn't have any savings, could only rely on borrowing money or loans) And since I was a child as all of this happened, I've only learned about it all throughfully as I entered adulthood, so I wouldn't need to worry about anything and "just be a kid". Which I really understand, but it doesn't make it easier to handle.

And by now, for several years I keep on trying to earn money, so I could free my momma from this chain and let her live, not survive. I always wanted to get through this quietly, because I never, ever wanted to burden anyone with my home problems. But it grew to a point I might need to grab anything to climb towards the light

The goal is $10 000... which is scarily large number.

I list all the options but Kofi is preferred to keep track of the funds!

My commissions are HERE! (the sheet will receive a slight update in upcoming days) My Kofi is HERE! (Level 4 Tea is free headshot drawing every month!) HERE's other services I do (adopts, brushes, etc) I plan to do paid requests for my friday streams on occasion! Anything else I come up with I hope to include in here! Every person who donates will be part of "Thank you" list where I hope to shoutout everybody, cause every penny matters. I want this situation to end...

[qin-qin16]

XPRESSO

I want to thank, first of all, @inkblottzz for drawing an fanart of this ship! Thanks to them, I have a favorite ship now! I will make a part two of this, I promise!

Okay, okay, what is xpresso? Simple: it's the ship name for Cross and Ccino— Okay, okay! You can stop booing and throwing tomatoes at me! I KNOW THEY'RE A RARE SHIP, I KNOW! BUT READ MY HEADCANONS FIRST BEFORE YOU START THROWING STONES TOO! (I mean, it's like a headcanon/oneshot/my version of how they met??? Anyway, enjoy!)

Cross met Ccino after Killer insisted a lot and dragged him to FluffyTale's Cat Cafe — with a line about it being a neutral universe that wasn't hostile to outsiders and other details that Cross didn't think were necessary to pay attention to;

What he didn't expect was to keep going back there again and again under the excuse of liking the cats — all just to distract Killer and get him to go to the café with him so Cross could admire the barista from afar.

Of course, Killer wasn't an idiot (he just took advantage of the excuse to play with the kittens), and he soon figured out Cross's scheme — especially since the skeleton never paid attention to the cats, always with his white pupils focused on following Ccino.

“So? Aren’t you going to talk to him?” Killer asked one time.

“ No.” Cross replied so quickly that Killer couldn’t hold back the laugh that came out through his nasal cavity.

For many days, it went on like this: with Cross following Ccino from afar with his gaze, like a dog wanting attention but not knowing how to ask (Killer could swear that Cross's little tail wagged much harder every time Ccino waved in their direction with a friendly greeting);

It got to the point where it was painful to see the two interact only with waves — Cross wouldn’t even place his own order for fear of stuttering in front of Ccino!

No one in the café could stand this tension anymore (especially Killer, who seemed to be the third wheel every time he went to the café!). Tired of it and wanting Cross to finally make some progress, Killer decided to give an ultimatum — of course, without informing Cross first;

“I’m going outside for a bit, stay here and order a hot chocolate for me, okay?”

“Wait, wait! You don’t even like hot chocolate!” But Killer had already left, waving too slowly to be considered friendly.

Surrounded by cats and nervously bouncing his leg under the table, Cross used all his self-control not to run away when Ccino started approaching the table — with a small notepad and a pen in his hand.

Cross actually did pretty well (at least he managed to order a hot chocolate without stuttering too much), despite his skull dripping with sweat and his hands clenched into a trembling fist. He was fine, seriously, everything was going smoothly—

“Alright, I’ll be back with your order, pup!” If Cross wasn't purple before, then his entire skull must have been vibrating in violet now.

Ccino wasn’t much different; the only difference was that his blush was orange. And like Cross, he stuttered as he apologized, saying he didn’t remember Cross's name and that he looked like such an anxious puppy every time they locked eyes.

“It’s Cross!” He might not have needed to almost shout his name, but it was enough for Ccino to smile again, repeating Cross's name as if he were savoring something sweet.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” And he went back to the counter.

Cross could have died of embarrassment at that moment, but he couldn’t help but notice his own tail wagging happily at this small interaction (Ccino knew his name! And he smiled at him!).

They seemed to have a long journey ahead, but apparently, they had already started off well.

[peachyfnaf]

If you could say something to all TSAMS characters, what would you say?

WHOOH boy, that's a fuckin' question and a half, ain't it? i'm prolly gonna piss some people off with this, let's see... i kidnapped most of these characters from polaris' list lol

So I don't go off on tangents for each of em, i'm gonna try to limit myself to 1-3 sentences

Sun: You've been through a lot, haven't you? Find something to do in life, something that you love because you want to, not something that you love out of obligation or programming. You're smarter and stronger than you think, stop being held back by the past.

Old Moon: You have not changed as much as you think you have- you still have some very toxic and abusive behaviors. You are not irredeemable, but you are deeply flawed. Take time, work on yourself, and understand that while making up for your past might be impossible; it's not impossible for you to carve out a future where you and those you love are happy.

New Moon/Nexus: Oh, you poor thing, what happened to you? You fucked up, but you didn't deserve the hand you were given in life, no one in your position would. Please, let yourself feel again- the pain of losing it all- only then will you be able to come back out the other side ready to love again.

Earth: As you've grown and experienced life, you've become very immature. This isn't directly a bad thing, but it contrasts with what you try to be, and makes you an unreliable person to go to with mental health struggles. Don't take life so personally, and push a little bit harder, there's no need to be so soft on people who reject help who clearly need it.

Lunar: I am BEGGING you to show some vulnerability. I know it's genuinely so fucking hard after all you've been through, but if you keep acting like you're okay after every loss then eventually you'll become a shell of a man. ...And also, respectfully, humble yourself- you are incredible, but you are not the main character.

Solar: Take a break. Please, for the sake of yourself and everyone you care about, take a break. You can't save anyone if you yourself are dying- and the people you are trying to reach won't extend their hand to a dying man. Take a break.

Eclipse (V4 Specifically): ...What can I even say to you other than that I am so incredibly proud of you. And that I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything you went through, being compared to someone you're not. I wish people would leave you alone, as you so desperately want to be, you more than deserve that peace.

Bloodmoon: You're a lot more put together than people give you credit for. I'm sorry you were made the way you were, with the inability to live life without being consumed by your urges. You were born a monster, and no one gave you the proper chance to become anything but one.

Ruin: I'm sorry to say this, I really am, but even though the life you lived was horrid and tragic, that gives you no right to end billions of innocent lives in your quest for justice and revenge. You have my sympathies for the trauma you experienced, but my sympathies end there. Everything you experience after the massacre you pulled is your victims coming to bite you in the ass.

Jack: I love you, so much- I love you for trying as hard as you do. Remember, it's okay to say no. You are still growing and have a lot of it to do, be kind to yourself when you make mistakes.

Dazzle: Sweet girl, the most precious thing. Never change who you are, you are literally the shining star in the darkness that is this world. Never forget how much you are loved, for it is more than you could ever know.

The Creator: No matter how many machines you build, what scientific discoveries you make, how much progress you offer to humanity, you will always be alone. No one will ever love you, and it's all your fault. Remember that when you die alone, old man.

Monty: Your violence is not funny, at least not at the severity of which you do it. You lying to your girlfriend is not funny. Do better or fuck off.

Foxy: You try so hard, and I appreciate it, but learn that there are some things that you can not fix, and some places where you shouldn't stick your nose in. It's okay to be "a rubber duck", it's okay to be normal. Stop trying to be something you're not and embrace what you can.

F.C: I love you so much kid. You're a bit wild and off your rocker, but you've also shown so much unexpected maturity. Stop growing up so fast, yeah?

Puppet: I can appreciate all that you try to do, but please, understand that you acknowledging that you make mistakes does not nullify them. You have been hypocritical time and time again, and you need to learn and grow from those experiences, not just brush them off. You are capable of great things- just learn to do them.

AND THATS EVERYONE. YIPPEE. im gonna go eat shrimp now lol

[desultory-novice]

Opinions on you as a person? Well... I don't really know you that well... But based off of what I see here... You're very nice, you work hard, very passionate about the Kirbyverse! You do your best to accommodate everyone, answering every question! Not to mention, very supportive of other creators! I'd say you're pretty cool!

What spurred this on?

Aghh! /pos Thank you...

Thank you to everyone because ALL of you wrote really nice things?!? I really do have a skewed view of myself, I guess... No one even said I needed to work harder on all the stuff I say I will do and then don't ever seem to do in good time >.>;;

(Speaking of, to the anon who specifically said they want to see me stream on Twitch again, that is a VERY good idea and I would love to!! That sounds like a great time and I could use the fun. I would also...haha... I would LOVE to stream myself going through the WHOLE series so we can talk cool Kirby facts together!!)

-

I guess I was feeling conflicted because another round of the Kirby OC Tournament is upon us and I kinda want to...cheer for my OC and produce more content of him (he's back to rotating in my head, rotisserie chicken style) but...I've been doing that non-stop for MONTHS already!! ^^;; And I also MISS being the kind of Kirby blog that went on weird drunken rants about Dark Crafter and other canon characters! (Or gave precious time to my beloved OTP...)

I worried people, even people invested in the tourney, might think I'm being flaky or self-absorbed for wanting to give my OC just a little more attention... (I'm also struggling to find the right way to do so! I have a LOT of roleplay-related anxieties + having a grimdark angst puppy OC doesn't help. And even though I have been dipping my toes in, I worry maybe I'm just more cut out for solo writing...?)

...But either way, I expect OC content to drop off naturally once the tourney is over in October (this will be my "one" first-and-last OC experiment too) so I suppose it's not that much of a wait anyway!

-

Also, maybe we'll get some other kind of !surprise! big Kirby news in the meantime that will put my head back on straight! XD

[yandere-yearnings]

Weird thought rant ‼️

I always see in smuts that the MC gets a belly bulge and all that but okay, hear me out, how about MALE belly bulge? I have no idea if that’s possible due to male anatomy but I just thought that would be something

Join the cause and support Male belly bulge 😸

dw nonnie, i'm alr w/ you😌✨ (+ for reference it is possible!!)

anyway, this, for vio bc i feel like it'd be more prominent on him than my other ocs. also as a little smth for all the vio fuckers who continue to dominate the inbox🥰

NSFW under the cut!

“Shit.” Gasping breaths. Intakes hitched harder and harder. “Fuck, please. Please, I’m sorr-”

Vio's words never quite made it out of his mouth, not when your fingers quickly found their place within the wetness oozing from the space between spongey tongue and roof. Teary greens straining to meet your gaze, pleading mercy like what you were doing to him was torture, even though Vio was the one who slammed his ass back to meet your hips each time, without fail. 

“Aren’t you a fucking mess?” The amusement in your voice was palpable, and you knew it got him off, what with the way he keened, forehead pressing to the sheets and hands fisting the fabric as though it could save his life. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard an apology from these pretty lips,” your point was driven home when he gagged, and your spit-slicked digits slipped out just for you to smear it to a shine on them, “best not start now, hm? It might make me wanna take pity on you and then-”

He cried your name, and you watched the muscles in his back ripple as he convulsed. Sweat glistening, mesmerising in the way rain droplets were when they ran races against glass windows, dripping into the divots of sacral dimples you were aching to dig your thumbs into.

“And then who’s gonna fuck you like this, huh?” Your cleaner hand reached out, wrapped around his throat tight enough to choke him, and pulled him up. It drove you deeper into him — had Vio's eyes rolling to the back of his skull, had him clawing at you with almost the same intensity as he moaned. “Fuck you this good,” your hand trailed to his abdomen, where skin stretched thin, “fill you up, make you scream. You know I’m the only one who can do it for you. Only I know who you are, what you deserve. Right, Vio?”

“O-Only you,” Vio rasped, “only you, Y/N. Please.”

“You keep saying that,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to his jugular absent-mindedly. His pulse was fluttering, light and so fast in a way you thought suited the image of delicacy he’d crafted for the world. The way his body molded to your shape said otherwise, unbreaking, despite your efforts to do just that. “What are you begging for? What have I not given you?”

“Everything.” Wisps of blue flurried in your vision, and they were all you could see for seconds after Vio tilted his head back on your shoulder. The ocean, in the colour of his eyes. Lapping waves that undulated and moved towards you. “This much isn’t enough.” Seasalt at his nape, on your tastebuds, becoming addictive. “Give it all to me.” Threatening to drown you. “Y/N.”

For a second you were gone, and then his voice, weighted only momentarily, had you snapping back into reality, into motion, into him. “Greedy,” you tittered, index up his Adam’s apple to tap on his chin and push it down, “can’t you see that I already am?”

“Fuck.” Vio's eyes widened, the slightest bit — you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t looking. Your palm smoothed over where his belly bulged, applied a little pressure and watched his pupils blow. It was funny to you that he hadn’t noticed before. “Fuck. Y/N, wait.” Between his legs, Vio's dick twitched, clearly not as spent as either of you had first assumed, not with how it was leaking now. “Wait!”

There are things you’d never know about him; what type of pleasure coursed through his veins on seeing the strain you put on him, if it was a physical fulfillment, if it was solely the feeling, or the thought, being claimed, stretched, ruined. You never wandered about it long — after all, it didn’t matter. In seconds, the ocean overflowed for you. He spilt for you.

Vio lost his mind for you.

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - eighty-eight | born to run

“You’re hurting me…”

“Explain yourself.”

You looked into his eyes. Whatever soft dewey-ness that was there because of his lovey-dovey feelings for you a moment ago was completely gone. You were scared at the change and how fast it had happened, but you couldn’t admit that out loud.

“You’re hurting my arm.”

He stared into your eyes and you thought of the microphone for a moment before pushing it away. Something about the way he stared almost made you wonder if he was trying to read your mind, and you - as irrational as it sounded - didn’t want to think about it because he might know you were wearing it. You didn’t want to imagine what he’d do then.

“What do you mean? ‘A man who would do such things’ to you?”

You stared at him hard, trying to steel your resolve. His grip got tighter. 

“I meant to say…” Fuck him. You were done pretending. “How could anyone love someone who would delve into their past without asking, who would follow them around for months, and who would think that they’re owed something?”

He glared at you, his nostrils flared like a bull getting ready to charge. His grip tightened again.

You gritted your teeth. Why the fuck was he so strong? “Ow.”

“Good. I’m glad I could hurt you the way you’ve hurt me.”

“I never squeezed your arm so hard it might break.”

“No, but you broke my heart.”

“How?”

“First with Keeho. Your ‘best friend’ from school? Give me a fucking break. Men and women can’t be friends, it’s so obvious you were fucking--”

“Fuck you. Just because you’ve never had a woman for a friend doesn’t mean the rest of us are-- ah!”

You thought you could feel the pressure of his grip start to bend the bones, but you could have imagined it. Regardless, his grip was crazy strong and you were waiting to hear the sound of bone snapping at this point. You tried to push his hand away with your free hand.

“But I let it slide because I saw him in an old picture of yours. I could allow you one male friend. But now with this simp, MorningStar, or should I say: San?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Keep his name out of your mouth.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really, you fucking creep. You could never be what either of them are to me.”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re like this.” You tried harder to push his hand off you, clawing at his, to no avail.

His eyes widened. “Get up.”

He stood and practically pulled your arm out of your shoulder as he yanked you up off the bench.

“Ow, you’re hurting me.”

“Get up. Quietly.”

You had no choice but to stand. It was that or fall to the floor and be dragged.

“You’re coming with me.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

He pulled on your arm.

“Ow!”

You could see people beginning to turn towards the two of you at that outburst.

He leaned in towards you. “Don’t make a scene.”

“Get your hand off of me!”

He pulled you forward. 

The most base part of your brain registered that your ears heard footsteps moving quickly, running towards you, getting closer. Your conscious mind was too preoccupied with the terrifying prospect that you were about to be kidnapped to pay any attention to it.

You pulled your arm back, trying to free yourself. “No!”

He raised his free hand to hit you. In a flurry, San slammed into him like a hockey player and Byungchul’s grip on you released as he stumbled back a few feet. San was in front of you with his hands on your face, frantically checking you.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back tears. How did he even know where you were? “I’m fine.”

Satisfied, San turned back around to face Byungchul and put himself in between the two of you. Everyone in the square was watching you now. 

Byungchul dusted himself off as he stood. “Look who it is, y/n, your fake boyfriend.”

“What the hell is your problem?” San asked.

“Nothing, just that your fake girlfriend lured me out here to tell me she loved me. Jealous?”

“I somehow doubt that.”

Byungchul frowned. He lunged at San and San evaded, pushing you away from the both of them. You stumbled back and into the body of Yunho, who caught you, Wooyoung running up behind him.

“Why is San here?” He asked.

“Didn’t you tell him?”

Yunho and Wooyoung both shook their heads. Wooyoung paused and listened to his earpiece. 

“Quack said she messaged him.”

Mystery solved. You sighed, “Thank you, Quack.”

“She said ‘you’re welcome.’”

San and Byungchul grappled for a few moments - Byungchul having the upper hand at first because of his size and weight, and then San gaining the upper hand because of his experience - until the cops showed up and ran over to the two of them. 

“She also said she called the cops.”

As the cops cuffed both of them, you ran over to San. “Wait, wait, he’s with me!”

Wooyoung and Yunho ran after you.

   previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: San running in to save y/n… thoughts?

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @dinossaurz​​ • @conwunder​ • @tinyelfperson​​ • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​ •

[silvercrow72]

What if…

[mantisgodsdomain]

We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.

[emdotcom]

My brain is so full of Bees about Post-Shift 2.

It's a fan game that was delayed for 4 years -- by the time it released, fnaf fangames as a whole were not as popular as they had been, & most people in the scene had forgotten about Post-Shift 1, so not a lot of people heard about it/played it.

Worse still is the people who did talk about the game. Pretty unanimously, the consensus was this: this game is the craziest, most insane fnaf fangame. It's overly difficult with mechanics that have no rhyme or reason to them & tutorials that are wordy, unhelpful, & sometimes actively mislead the player, meaning you need to comb through a lot of text only to be misinformed. It's not as infamous as some other fangames, but it definitely was talked about very poorly.

In general, I think most of these criticisms were blown up out of proportion, but I can't really disagree with most people's problems -- it is difficult & wordy, & rather hard to understand. I think, however, that the game is still 1. Really fun, 2. Not a bad game at all, &, most importantly, 3. Is a free fucking game that was clearly a passion project. Most damn fangames never get off the fucking ground when made in groups because the creators will never make a red cent off the thing -- this game was made by one dude for 4 years & delivered to people for free. It didn't ask anything of you except to accept it as a difficult game & to not go in with wild expectations. The dev just wanted to make a game that was rough, but he also wanted to make a game that felt unique & was fun. & It is fun, too, is the damn thing.