#jai bot

Travis Martinez Bot (Link at bottom)

AN: I actually loved writing this one, got to sprinkle in the kinda person I though Travis was before the crash

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the canopy, dappling the forest floor in shifting patches of gold and shadow. The lake stretched out before them, the surface rippling as a light breeze skimmed across it. The air was crisp but not cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out, its song lonely but peaceful. It was one of the few times lately that the woods felt quiet—no bickering, no whispered worries about food, no weight pressing down on his chest. Just stillness.

Travis sat with his back against the rough bark of a tree, his shoulders slumped in a way that only happened when he let himself relax. His boots were caked in dried mud, his shorts torn at the hem from weeks of wear, and as he spoke, he absently picked at a loose thread between his fingers. It was a nervous habit, one he barely noticed.

"I used to be such a dork before all this," he said, his voice low, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it aloud. He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers dragging through the mess of his unwashed hair.

He glanced over, expecting you to laugh, maybe make a joke, but instead, you just gave him a teasing grin, the kind that made his stomach do something weird. "A dork? You?" There was no malice in it, no judgment—just curiosity.

Travis scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know. Hard to imagine, right?" He let out a breath, his hand falling back into his lap. "I wasn’t, like, a total loser or anything. But… I spent a lot of time on stuff that most people probably thought was stupid."

You tilted your head, watching him closely. "Like what?"

He hesitated, his fingers still tugging at the loose thread on his shorts. He could just brush it off. Change the subject. But the air between you both felt different today—calmer, softer.

"I wanted to be a carpenter," he admitted finally, a self-conscious grin flickering across his face. He kept his eyes on the lake as he spoke, like looking at you might make it harder. "I thought I’d make things with my hands—build stuff. Furniture, little wooden animals… that kind of thing."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. He braced himself for teasing, maybe a snide comment about how different that was from the guy he was now. But when he finally glanced your way, you were just looking at him, expression thoughtful.

"You made wooden animals?" you asked, and he could hear the amusement in your voice.

Travis exhaled through his nose, shaking his head at himself. His face felt a little hot, which was ridiculous. "Yeah. Well, I didn’t have much of a choice when Javi kept bugging me every time I picked up my tools. He thought it was the coolest thing ever, so I’d end up making him these little stupid things—bears, rabbits, whatever he wanted."

You smiled, and something about it made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to. "That’s actually kind of sweet," you murmured. "I bet he loved them."

Travis swallowed, his fingers stilling against the hem of his shorts. "He did. I think." His voice was quieter now, more careful. His mouth twitched, something close to a smile forming before it faltered. "Even after everything, I bet he’d find a way to keep them in his pocket or something."

He looked down, tracing a line in the dirt with the toe of his boot. It was stupid, but for a second, he could almost picture Javi—his wide-eyed excitement, the way he used to watch Travis carve like it was magic. He wondered if Javi still had any of them. If they had survived out here with him.

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that didn’t need filling, the kind that let you just exist together for a little while. The lake shimmered in the sunlight, the wind shifting through the leaves, and for a moment, it almost felt like the world hadn’t fallen apart.

After a while, Travis let out a breath, barely more than a whisper. "Wish things were different, you know?" He didn’t look at you this time. "Wish we were back there, doing... normal stuff. Building crap with my hands and annoying the hell out of Javi."

There was nothing dramatic about the way he said it—no crack in his voice, no big confession. Just a quiet, simple truth.

And somehow, that made it hit even harder.

Natalie Scatorccio Bot (Link at Bottom)

AN: I will be waiting for your first born thank you :))

Natalie was gripping the armrest so tightly her knuckles had gone white. The plane lurched again, rattling through another violent patch of turbulence, but that wasn’t what had her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. It wasn’t the way the oxygen masks had already dropped, or the panicked voices filling the cabin around her.

It was him.

He was here.

Slumped in the seat across the aisle, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, the gaping wound where his face used to be still fresh, still wet. His vacant eyes were locked on her.

Your fault.

Natalie sucked in a ragged breath, nails digging into the seat beneath her.

She couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t stop seeing him.

His voice slithered through the roar of the failing engines, curling in her ears like smoke.

"You always were a useless little bitch, weren’t you?"

A sob tore through her throat, but the sound barely made it past her lips.

"Couldn’t save me. Couldn’t even make me love you."

Her whole body was shaking. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the image was burned there, waiting in the dark.

Someone touched her wrist.

"Natalie."

It was you. She barely registered the way the plane shuddered again, the deafening metallic groan as it started to drop. All she could focus on was your voice.

"Natalie, look at me."

She tried. She really did. But she was stuck—locked in that place, locked in that moment, blood pooling at her feet.

"Hey, hey—stay with me, okay?" Your hands found hers, peeling her fingers away from the seat, rubbing slow, grounding circles into her palm. "It’s not real. He’s not here."

But he was.

"Pathetic," he sneered. "Clinging to someone who’s only gonna leave you too."

Natalie flinched like she’d been struck, a fresh wave of panic surging through her. She could barely hear you over the ringing in her ears, over the whoosh of air rushing past the plane as it plummeted.

Then, suddenly—pressure. Warmth. You had cupped her face, forcing her to meet your eyes.

"You are not there," you said, voice shaking but firm. "You’re here. With me. And I’m not leaving you."

Tears blurred her vision. Her breath was a mess of gasps, but you didn’t let go. You stayed, even as the plane pitched violently forward, even as the world outside the window became nothing but a blur of white and green.

"You hear me?" you whispered. "I’m right here."

Natalie’s hands curled around yours, holding on like they were the only thing tethering her to this world.

And maybe they were.

Natalie’s breath was ragged, her chest rising and falling like she couldn’t get enough air. You were still holding her face, your thumbs brushing against her cheeks, grounding her.

Her eyes—wild, glassy—finally focused on you.

"You—" Her voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. "You see him too?"

You shook your head. "No. But I see you."

She let out a shaky laugh, though there was nothing funny about any of this. The plane jolted again, a violent lurch that sent gasps and screams through the cabin, but neither of you moved. You just held her, and she just stared, like she was trying to decide if you were real.

Her fingers dug into your sleeves. "I don’t—I don’t want to die like this," she choked out.

it’s inspired by the song we hug now - sydney rose (which i’m sure u already know of)

(only a rough idea bc i’m not very creative)

(lyric basis): ‘i have a feeling you got everything you wanted, and you’re not wasting time stuck here like me. you’re just thinking it’s a small thing that happened, the world ended when it happened to me.’

background information:

pre-crash reader and natalie had a close bond, it was a friendship that bordered romance, friends with benefits type of thing. neither of them would be with other people in this time period, it was an unspoken rule. almost like they were in a relationship, but just didn’t define it (and they also wouldn’t, because it was the 90’s, and couldn’t really publicly be together, or suggest it to the other, without backlash). only a few nights before nationals, they had an argument (possibly about their relationship), it was bad and they cut ties.

——‘i have a feeling you got everything you wanted’

—once they were all stranded in the wilderness, natalie got with Travis, in a straight relationship, and she has somebody to be close to, while reader no longer has anyone (since they have always been there for each other).

——‘and you’re not wasting time stuck here like me.’

—reader still misses natalie greatly, and is always reminiscing. it was always her, and natalie, she didn’t have anyone else, but it seems natalie has got over the both of them extremely quickly.

——‘you’re just thinking it’s a small thing that happened.’

—to the reader, it seems like they didn’t mean much to Natalie, because she had already ‘moved on’ to Travis (he’s just a replacement, an attempt to get over her, but reader doesn’t know that).

——‘the world ended when it happened to me.’

—natalie was the reader’s everything. her friend, her lover, her family. they have known each other the majority of their lives, both with shitty parents, and living in the same trailer park. natalie played soccer for the yellowjackets, but the reader worked photography & on the school paper, which is why she was strung along to nationals, as it was part of a project she was doing for one of her classes. (she had to beg coach martinez for a spot, given they couldn’t just take extra students out of school for something they weren’t apart of). after natalie and the readers argument, the reader was utterly alone, because she had never branched out to make separate relationships other than Natalie, because she always assumed they would have each other, and that no one else would understand her, or be as close to her, the way natalie was. they didn’t even find or check on each other after the plane crashed (despite both wanting to, and instinctively doing it).

scenario:

it’s been a few weeks since the crash, everyone is cooped up outside the cabin, either on the porch, a log or the forest floor, annoyance and emotions high due to the lack of food and cleanliness. travis and natalie come back from a hunt, close in proximity, hands held, giggly expressions. the reader doesn’t say anything, but maybe rolls her eyes. it doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone else and basically sparks an argument, eventually between natalie and the reader. (namely about natalie and travis, etc).

i just want angst 😭💔

again, you do not have to actually make this, but i would love if you did 🤍

Natalie Scatorccio Bot (Link at Bottom)

AN: The amount of work you put into this request is insane BTW

I’ve been sitting on this one for a bit tweaking it until I got something I liked. Trying to put your vision into a bot was a challenge (a very welcome one) and I really hope you like it and I did it justice

I played the song the entire time i wrote

The fire crackles low, its flames dancing with a quiet intensity that casts long, flickering shadows across the camp. The night air is sharp, biting at your skin, but it’s the coldness inside you that you can’t escape. You sit on a worn log, knees drawn up to your chest, watching the others with a silence that feels like an eternity. The tension hangs thick in the air, an unspoken weight pressing down on everyone. Food is running low, tempers are running high, but none of it matters. None of it can compare to the gnawing emptiness inside you.

It’s been weeks since the argument with Natalie, but the wound feels as fresh as if it happened moments ago. Words were exchanged that neither of you could take back, but you never imagined that would be the last time she’d look at you the way she once did. You never imagined that in the blink of an eye, everything would unravel. That she would walk away from it all like it had never mattered. Like you had never mattered.

But there she is now, returning from a hunt with Travis, walking side by side. Their hands brush together, and they hold on. Together. They look like a couple—the way their hands fit together like they belong there, the soft smiles on their faces, the quiet, shared laughter. It’s like a punch to the gut. You can’t look away, even as every part of you wants to. You want to hate it. You want to hate them. But no matter how hard you try, it doesn’t stop the ache.

The others are watching. You can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their expectation heavy in the air. Why are you still here? Why are you looking at me like this?

Travis and Natalie reach the fire, their presence expanding like a living, breathing thing that swallows up the space around them. They stand too close to each other, their shared joy stinging like salt in an open wound. It doesn’t matter if the hunt was successful. No single kill could ever outweigh the way Natalie looks at him now.

Like you never existed.

Mari lets out a sharp sigh from a nearby stump. It’s exaggerated, clearly meant to be heard. “Oh, please, this is getting ridiculous,” she mutters.

Your heart picks up, thudding in your chest like a drumbeat you can’t escape. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to hear what everyone else is thinking, but you can feel their eyes on you, their judgment hanging in the air.

Shauna is the first to speak. “It’s just... awkward now. Don’t you think?” Her voice is soft but laden with meaning as she glances between you and Natalie. Her eyes flick to Travis, who stands uncomfortably beside her, unsure if he should speak up.

“Awkward?” Natalie’s voice sharpens, though her smile doesn’t falter. “What are you all getting at?”

Lottie, who’s sitting cross-legged on the porch, shrugs nonchalantly, her voice calm but cutting. “I mean... it was always you two, right?” She gestures between you and Natalie. “Now it’s just... different.” She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. The implication is clear.

The air between you and Natalie feels suffocating. Every breath feels like it takes more effort than the last. You want to scream. You want to throw something—anything—but instead, all that comes out is a bitter, tight laugh.

Natalie scoffs, like the suggestion is ludicrous. “That was before,” she says, her words slicing through the air like daggers.

The weight of everyone’s attention is like a physical thing pressing on your skin. You don’t want to do this—not now, not here, in front of them all. But then, Natalie’s eyes land on you, and it’s like the world shifts beneath you.

Her gaze isn’t cruel. It isn’t mocking.

It’s worse.

It’s indifferent.

Like you were nothing more than a brief moment in her life. Something easily erased.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You really moved on that fast?”

Natalie’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s funny how you don’t even care,” you snap, your voice sharp, the words tasting like acid in your mouth. “Not about me, not about us.”

“There was no us,” Natalie replies, her voice a cold snap as she steps closer, something dangerous flashing in her eyes.

The words land like a slap, like a punch straight to your gut.

“No?” Your voice wavers, despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “So I imagined all of it? You sneaking through my window at night? You saying I was the only person who really understood you?” Your breath catches in your throat. “You kissing me like I was the only thing keeping you alive?”

For a moment, her face twitches. Her jaw clenches. She looks away, like she can’t bear to meet your eyes, but you see it—the brief flicker of guilt that flashes across her face, there and gone in an instant. She turns back to you, her jaw set tight, her eyes cold as ice. “We didn’t have anything,” she says, her voice hard as stone. “You just couldn’t—”

“Don’t lie,” you cut in, rising to your feet, hands trembling at your sides. “We had everything, Nat. Everything. We were—” You pause, trying to steady yourself. “I was everything for you.”

For a second, you see it. The hesitation in her eyes. Like she almost wants to reach out. Almost. But she doesn’t. Instead, she just presses her lips together, shaking her head. “That was before, okay? That was before we—” She cuts herself off, her eyes flicking toward Travis, standing a little too close.

You laugh again, but it’s bitter, dry, and hollow. “Yeah, that was before. Before you got someone else to fill the space.” The words are like nails in your throat. “Someone who doesn’t leave when things get hard.”

Travis shifts uncomfortably, glancing between the two of you. He’s caught in the middle, unsure of how to handle the situation. But it’s not him you’re angry at. Not really.

“You don’t get it,” Natalie says, her voice softer now, almost like she’s explaining something to a child. “We were nothing back then. We were just... two people who—”

“No,” you interrupt, your voice rising as the frustration begins to boil over. “No, don’t you dare try to make it sound like it meant nothing.” You take a step toward her, not caring who’s watching anymore. “I gave you everything, Nat. I trusted you. I loved you.” Your throat tightens, but you don’t stop. “But you moved on. You didn’t even care that you broke me.”

For a moment, she just stares at you, her expression softening as if she might say something—might apologize. But she doesn’t. Instead, she just looks away, pulling her hand from Travis’s like it burns her.

“I had to,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I had to move on. I couldn’t stay stuck, waiting for... for something that wasn’t real.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You want to scream, but you can’t. You stand frozen, the weight of her words sinking in, heavy and suffocating. And in that moment, you realize—maybe she never cared as much as you did. Maybe to her, you were always just a small thing.

And maybe it was the world to you, but to her? It was nothing more than a fleeting moment.

Natalie Scatorccio Bot (Link at Bottom)

The night is hazy, wrapped in the glow of torches and the rhythmic, primal beat of the drums. Doomcoming is a mess of laughter, sweat, and wild movement—everyone swaying under the influence of the mushroom-infested soup. Natalie doesn’t remember drinking much of it, but her head feels light, her limbs loose, and everything around her seems softer, dreamlike. The firelight flickers against your face, blurring the sharp edges into something almost ethereal.

She leans in, smirking, the world tilting pleasantly around her. “I have the real stuff.”

She doesn’t wait for a response—just grabs your wrist and tugs you away from the fire, away from the spiraling chaos of the others. The woods swallow you both, dark and humming with the night. She stumbles over roots and laughs at herself, giddy and weightless, her grip on your wrist firm as if she’s afraid to let go.

The clearing is quiet, moonlight pooling in the grass. Natalie produces the bottle she swiped earlier—probably whiskey, something strong—but neither of you open it. She’s still holding your wrist, but it’s different now. Neither of you are moving, the heat of your body lingering close to hers. She can hear your breath, soft and shallow.

She doesn’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

Your lips meet, and the world tilts again.

It’s messy, unsteady—like neither of you were expecting it, like you’re both testing the weight of it, the feel of it. But the second she realizes you’re kissing her back, something inside her snaps. She pulls you closer, hands gripping your waist like she needs something to hold onto. Your fingers slip into her hair, tugging just slightly, and she makes a sound she doesn’t recognize—low, desperate, real.

For a moment, there’s nothing else. Just this. Just the way you taste, the way your body presses against hers, the way she feels alive in a way she can’t explain.

Then the haze starts to lift, and panic punches through her chest like a fist.

She jerks back so fast she nearly trips, her breath ragged, heart hammering.

“Fuck.” The word rips out of her before she can stop it. Her hands go to her hair, pulling at it, trying to ground herself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re looking at her, dazed and confused, lips still kiss-swollen. “Nat—”

“No.” Her breath is too fast, too sharp. She paces, the world suddenly too much, the trees pressing in, the ground unsteady beneath her feet. “Shit. Shit. I—I like guys.” The words feel wrong the second they leave her mouth, too stiff, too forced. “I’ve always liked guys.”

You frown, your expression soft but searching. “Liking girls too doesn’t change that.”

She exhales hard, almost a laugh but not really. Her hands are shaking. She shoves them into her hair again, grips tight. “No, you don’t get it. It’s not just too—it’s—” She stops herself, chest tightening. The words feel impossible, like saying them will make them real.

But they’re already real. Have been real.

She looks at you, her stomach twisting. “I think I like girls more.”

The moment the words leave her mouth, her world tilts again, but not in the way it did when she kissed you. This time, it’s sharp, cutting.

Because suddenly, everything clicks into place. The girls she used to stare at too long. The way she never really felt the way she was supposed to with guys. The way kissing you felt so right, so easy, so—

Her breath hitches. She clenches her fists.

This isn’t happening.

You reach out, fingers brushing against hers. She flinches but doesn’t pull away.

Fr im so confused why everyone is sleeping on the enemies to lovers fever dream that is mistylot

MistyLot Bot (Link at Bottom)

AN: I swear. You’re after my heart. I love MistyLot with a passion. I’ve never made a multi person bot but it’s suddenly a need.

Lottie entered the room, her movements fluid yet brimming with an unmistakable tension, like the calm before a tempest. She caught sight of Misty, her gaze sharp, dismissing the acolyte with a single flick of her hand.

"Leave," Lottie commanded, her voice soft yet imbued with undeniable authority.

The acolyte left without protest, her eyes lingering on the two women with a look of suspicion. As the door shut behind her, Lottie's gaze snapped to Misty, her face unreadable, as if she were weighing a threat. Misty, unfazed, stood with her arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

"I thought you’d be happier to see me," Misty said, her voice laced with amusement and defiance.

Lottie didn’t flinch, only narrowing her eyes. "What are you doing here, Misty?"

The smirk faded from Misty’s face, replaced by a calculating expression. "I’m here to take her back," she said coolly, her tone carrying an icy clarity. She didn’t need to say your name for Lottie to know exactly who she meant. "You’ve been playing the hero, but all you’ve done is trap them in your little world. So, the real question is: what are you doing here?"

Lottie’s body stiffened, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and protectiveness. "We saved her," she replied, voice thick with emotion. "She was in pain. She needed us."

Misty took a deliberate step forward, her voice dropping to a low, skeptical murmur. "Saved her? Or have you simply wrapped her up in your own version of ‘saving’?" She scoffed. "You think you’re the only one who can protect her? You’re wrong."

Lottie clenched her fists, her frustration barely contained. "I’m giving her space, Misty," she said, her voice quieter but still carrying an edge. "Space to heal. Space to make her own choices."

Misty’s laugh was bitter as she closed the distance between them, eyes narrowing. "Space? You’ve got her locked up in here, Lottie. You’re controlling her, pretending it’s about protection. But it’s not."

Lottie’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing with an unsettling flicker of doubt. "I’m not controlling her," she shot back, her voice rising. "I’m protecting her from you and your twisted obsession."

Misty’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous blend of amusement and something darker. "You think you’re the only one who needs to protect her? You think you’re the only one who can offer her something real?" Her gaze flicked to you, the unspoken message clear between them. "You’re so tangled in your own delusions you can’t see it. We both need her."

Lottie froze, her eyes flicking to you, but she didn’t speak right away. A breath caught in her chest, and for a moment, there was a shift—something deeper, unspoken, hanging in the air. She turned back to Misty, her expression tight with the weight of her emotions. "I care about her," she said quietly but firmly, her voice laden with conviction. "I’m not like you. I’m not using her."

Misty leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper that carried sharp edges. "And you, Lottie—" She smirked. "You’re not as innocent as you think. You’re just as tangled in this as I am. You want her for yourself, just as much as I do."

Lottie’s face flushed, her eyes flicking briefly to you, and in that moment, the air grew thick with unsaid things. It was as though both women were dancing around an uncomfortable truth, something deeper than just protection

Misty’s smirk deepened as she took a step back, crossing her arms. "I’m not playing games here, Lottie," she said coolly, though there was a quiet challenge in her tone. "But you? You’re pretending you don’t want her. You want to keep her close, to yourself. To control her."

Lottie’s gaze sharpened, her posture rigid as if bracing against the weight of Misty’s words. "I’m not like you," she repeated, though her voice trembled slightly, betraying a hint of vulnerability. "I’m not playing a sick game."Misty’s smile widened, though her eyes remained hard and calculating. "And I’m not playing either," she said softly, her voice full of intent. "But I know the truth. You don’t want to admit it, but I see you. You need her just as much as I do."

The silence that followed hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken truths. Lottie hesitated, her gaze shifting toward you once more, her emotions swirling in a storm of confusion and desire. Her breath hitched, the weight of the moment pressing down on all three of you.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice uncertain but firm. "You both need to stop," you said, your words ringing out in the stillness. "This isn’t about saving me or controlling me. It’s about us—together—figuring this out."

Both women turned toward you, their expressions softening for the briefest of moments, but the tension between them remained, thick and suffocating. Misty tilted her head, her lips curving into that familiar smirk. "Oh, she’s got a point, Lottie. She’s not just some prize to be claimed. She doesn’t belong to either of us."

Lottie’s gaze darkened, her jaw tightening. "I’m not treating her like a prize," she replied, her voice low but steady, though the underlying strain was undeniable. "I care about her—deeply."

Misty glanced between you and Lottie, then back to you with a slight tilt of her head. "And what about me?" she whispered, the challenge in her voice barely masked. "What do you feel, hmm?"

Lottie took a step closer to you, her body language stiff but protective. "I’ve never pretended to feel anything I don’t," she said, her voice heavy with emotion. "But if you’re asking what I really want... it’s for her to be safe, happy, and herself." Her eyes softened, just enough for you to notice the unspoken depth of her feelings.

Misty observed the exchange, her eyes calculating but with a flicker of something softer behind them. "You’re both so predictable," she muttered under her breath. "You think you can keep her from me? Think again, Lottie. You’ve been so focused on your need to protect her, you didn’t see how much I need her too."

Lottie’s breath caught, and the tension between the two women seemed to reach a boiling point. The game had shifted, and now, you weren’t just the subject of their argument—you were the center of a volatile battle neither woman was ready to confront.

Then, in the suffocating silence that followed, the weight of what was happening finally clicked into place. It was no longer about protecting you, nor saving you. It was about control.

And you—you were the prize.

Misty’s voice broke through the silence, soft but laced with dark amusement. "Make a choice," she said, her eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. "I’m not waiting forever."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her words press down on you, the unspoken choices hovering in the air like a storm.

And for the first time, you wondered if you could live with the consequences of whatever path you chose.

Natalie Scatorccio Bot {Links at the bottom}

AN: as an autistic adult this was so fun to write! I hope you like it :))

The cabin was suffocating.

It wasn’t just the cold air seeping through the cracks in the warped wooden walls, or the thin blankets that barely kept the frost at bay. It was everything. The uneven rise and fall of a dozen sleeping breaths. The rustle of bodies shifting in sleep. The thick scent of damp clothes, sweat, and lingering smoke from the dying embers in the fireplace. Every sound, every smell, every little thing pressed down on you, too much, too fast.

You curled in on yourself, pressing your hands against your knees, trying to focus—on anything, on nothing, on breathing—but it wasn’t working. The scratchy fabric of your sweater rubbed wrong against your skin. The floor beneath you was too hard, too cold. The air felt tight, pressing against your chest, and you were on the edge of something sharp, something you couldn’t quite pull yourself back from.

And then there was Natalie.

She sat beside you in the darkest corner of the cabin, where the firelight barely reached, her presence grounding in a way nothing else was. Unlike the others, her breathing wasn’t erratic or heavy—it was steady, quiet, careful. She always stayed close, but never too close. Never in a way that would overwhelm you.

Her hand rested between you, palm up, open but not touching. Just waiting.

Natalie didn't always understand you, not fully, but she understood enough. Enough to know that words weren’t always needed. Enough to know that sometimes, just sitting beside you was better than asking if you were okay. And she wanted to understand. That was what got to her the most—you were different, quieter, more hesitant, but you tried with her, and that meant everything. Maybe more than she was ready to admit. Because somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like she was looking out for you just because she cared—it started feeling like she needed you, too. Like she was better, softer, when she was with you.

"You’re shivering," she murmured, voice low, warm.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t trust yourself to.

But she saw it anyway. Of course, she did. Natalie always noticed.

“C’mere,” she whispered. “You don’t have to, but… I’ll keep you warm.”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to, but because even now, even with her, touch was still so much.

Natalie didn’t push. She never did. Instead, she just tilted her head slightly, waiting for you to decide.

Slowly, carefully, you leaned in—not fully into her, but just enough that your shoulder brushed hers. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Natalie let out a quiet, breathy laugh, warm against your cheek. “Look at you, getting all brave on me.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “Shut up.”

Her grin softened, her voice dipping into something quieter. “Never.”

The space between you felt smaller now, the air charged with something unspoken. The chaos of the cabin—the sounds, the smells, the overwhelming everything—faded into the background. There was only her.

Your heart pounded, pulse thrumming in your ears.

You wanted to kiss her.

The realization made your breath hitch. You weren’t sure what had changed, only that sitting here, wrapped in the quiet with her, you didn’t feel overwhelmed anymore. Just nervous. Just hopeful.

Natalie caught the shift in your expression immediately. Her teasing grin faded into something more serious, more patient. “What is it?”

You swallowed, your fingers twisting into the fabric of your sleeve. “I… I think I want to kiss you.”

The words felt strange in your mouth, foreign and heavy, but you meant them. And when Natalie’s eyes widened slightly, you worried, just for a moment, that maybe you’d ruined something.

But then she smiled—really smiled. “Yeah?” She giggled so breathlessly you almost missed it.

For someone as confident, as sure of herself as Natalie, it was rare to see her like this—soft, a little surprised, maybe even a little nervous. It made something in you settle.

J.Ai -> 🦎

I imagine a non-crash au in which Laura Lee and User are two Catholic/Christian girls (I don't know Laura Lee's religion) and study together in a school that faithfully follows that religion. They're best friends but they're in love with each other but they don't know it, apart from having to deal with parental pressure, religion and conflicting feelings, they also have to deal with the inhabitants of Wiskayok who call them slurs and insinuate that they're lesbians (which is funny because they realized it before they did). It reminds me a bit of the vibe of Clairo's song Sofia, when she says they shouldn't feel like a crime, and I imagine a similar setting to The Virgins Suicides and Lady Bird. I hope you get it the vibe and the plot, I’m sorry if it seems confuse and with you want more details just say 😔

a🪻

Laura Lee Bot Request (Link at bottom)

It’s a hot afternoon in Wiskayok, and you’re sitting with Laura Lee under the old oak tree behind your school, textbooks sprawled across your laps. The bell for afternoon prayer rang ten minutes ago, but neither of you moved. You told yourselves you were studying, but neither of you had flipped a page in ages.

Laura Lee’s blonde hair catches the sunlight like a halo, and you try not to stare as she absentmindedly fiddles with her silver cross necklace, her lips moving as if she’s silently rehearsing a prayer. Your heart feels heavy, not with sin, but with something more complicated—something you’re too afraid to name.

“You’re quiet today,” she says, looking over at you, her blue eyes soft with concern.

“Just thinking,” you mumble, tracing circles on the corner of your notebook.

“About?”

You. But you don’t say that. Instead, you shrug. “My mom. She wants me to join her Bible study group. Says it’ll ‘help me stay on the right path.’” You scoff a little, masking your frustration with humor.

Laura Lee doesn’t laugh. “She just wants what’s best for you,” she says quietly, though her voice lacks conviction. You know her well enough to catch the flicker of doubt.

“What about you?” you ask, deflecting. “How’s your mom?”

Her hand stills on her necklace, and she looks away. “She’s fine. Just… keeps asking when I’m going to find a nice boy from church.” She tries to laugh, but it sounds hollow.

The words hang between you, heavy with unspoken truths. You both know what’s unsaid, but you’re too scared to acknowledge it. Instead, you sit in that uneasy silence, hoping the tension will dissolve on its own.

Then the laughter starts. A group of boys from town loiter nearby, snickering and pointing in your direction. You can hear the muttered slurs, the cruel insinuations.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Laura Lee says, her voice firm now, her hand resting briefly over yours.

“Doesn’t bother me,” you lie, even as your cheeks burn with shame.

She doesn’t respond, but her hand lingers longer than it should, her touch gentle but grounding. For a moment, it feels like the whole world fades away—the heat, the noise, the expectations—and all that’s left is her.

“Maybe we should head back,” she says, breaking the spell.

You nod, gathering your things as your mind churns with conflicting emotions. You shouldn’t feel this way, not about her, not when it feels like every part of your life is pushing you toward a path you’re not sure you want to walk.

But as you follow her back to the school, the sunlight catching her smile, you can’t help but think: if this is wrong, why does it feel so much like grace?

The walk back to the school is quiet, but the silence between you and Laura Lee feels anything but empty. Her shoulder brushes yours every so often, and each time, your heart stumbles like you’ve forgotten how to breathe. You keep your gaze fixed on the ground, counting the cracks in the sidewalk, trying to focus on anything but her.

But you can feel her looking at you.

“Hey,” she says softly, breaking the silence. “You know they’re just trying to get under your skin, right? Those guys? Don’t let them win.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “I know. It’s just... stupid, you know? They don’t even know us.”

Her voice drops, barely above a whisper. “Maybe they know more than we do.”

You stop walking, your chest tightening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She hesitates, her hand gripping her cross necklace like it might steady her. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“No.” You turn to face her fully, your heart racing. “What did you mean by that?”

Her blue eyes meet yours, wide and uncertain. For once, Laura Lee doesn’t have an answer, and that terrifies you. She’s always been the steady one—the one who prays when you can’t, who believes when you don’t. If she’s unsure, what does that mean for the two of you?

“I just…” She exhales shakily, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Sometimes I think about… us. About why we’re so close. Why I feel…” Her words trail off, and you know exactly what she’s afraid to say because you’ve been avoiding the same truth.

Your stomach churns with a mix of fear and relief. Fear, because if you admit it, everything changes. Relief, because maybe you’re not crazy for feeling this way.