#but i sure as fuck have acute migraines

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

head hurty

#not any more like that but last night #love having a pain condition triggered partly by anxiety but also it caused the anxiety to be constant in the first place #i dont get chronic migraines bc i dont get them often enough its usually like 1 every 2 months nowadays but sometimes it can be 4 in a week #bc having one makes it more likely i have a another soon after #but i sure as fuck have acute migraines #i remember being in school and classmates being like oh i have a migraine going off to take their meds and then coming back to class?! #whereas as soon as i had an aura id go to the office and be like can you call my mum she needs to take me home #and i thought i was just being weak and i should just push through it #but you can't push through acute pain nausea vomiting and disorientation #there are literally parts of my brain or thoughts i can't access during one ill be trying to think of a word and i can't find it #they usually only last like 2-3 hours but it feels like a lot longer when you're sitting in the dark can't even lie down feeling like hell #and ik some peoples go on for days some people have them more days than they dont ik im lucky to have such short and fairly infrequent ones #but its still beyond horrible and feeling like a ticking time bomb constantly watching out for an aura #and worrying about going somewhere you can't easily get home from #and I've only just started to be able to talk about it i could never understand how other people could talk about theirs flippantly #when mine terrified me more than anything the amount of bad feelings #but she's working on it having realised after 8 years that it doesn't have to be like that 🤣 #mine #n e way sorry for the rsnt all good now chillin in bed ✌🤣

[thedisablednaturalist]

Tw for weight loss mention

The whole exercise will cure your disability thing is a fucking joke. Yes exercise is beneficial for your health, but only if you aren't already on shaky foundations. You need to be on a treatment plan that WORKS before going into the maintenance phase. You wouldn't do regular maintenance on a broken item, you'd work on getting it up and running first. And maybe it would even need specialized maintenance afterwards if it's especially fragile.

I have fibromyalgia and acute degenerative disc disease. My immune system attacks my nerves and discs in my spine are slowly calcifying and causing the bones to constrict and damage my nerves (i think thats how it works). I have days where it feels like my body is on fire from nerve pain and days where it feels like my spine is about to rip from my back. And days where I have both (like today!). I get numbness in my hands and feet. I have horrible migraines. I can no longer walk unaided more than maybe 5 minutes without severe pain. I have something wrong with my knees and hips but the doctors don't know what yet.

You'd think I live an obviously seditary lifestyle correct?

Hell no.

I walk aided on average 6 miles a day over difficult terrain OUTSIDE of regular activity almost everyday. My legs are muscular and strong. I get my heart rate up and a good sweat, like all the gym rats swear on. I am often doing physical labor such as weeding, digging, sample collecting, pruning trees etc.

I'm not saying this to make other disabled people feel bad or prove that they can do anything if they just tried harder. This is an extremely painful lifestyle I've chosen that takes a lot of lifestyle management AND BOUNDARIES to keep up with the work. I also have an extremely forgiving boss who is also physically disabled and knows what I'm going through (deciding between your passion and your health and having to do so each and every day) No one should ever be expected to do what I do. I'm not even sure if I should be doing this myself.

This is to prove that exercise? Has not cured me. My muscles are strong but still hurt as if they're broken and I have to take more breaks than my coworker. I am constantly getting out of breath and I flare up regularly if I'm not careful. I am in excellent physical condition outside of my disabilities. I go to different doctors several times a month to get checked out.

I previously went through a diet program and lost a lot of weight (basically starving myself and got off my depression meds which cause weight gain but are also the only ones that work) and guess what? That didn't do shit either!!! I still felt horrible!!! I've since gained back the weight anyway after switching to focusing on adding more nutrient dense foods than taking stuff away from my diet (also muscle weighs more than fat, and fat helps cushion my aching joints and spine).

The muscle doesn't do shit for my disabilities outside of maybe some stability. Exercising everyday doesn't make the pain go away. Without my medications and aids and nutrition plans and steroid injections and spinal adjustments and physical therapy (that takes my fibro and spine into account) and alternative work methods I WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO DO WHAT I DO. Exercise alone is like trying to make a car run with no oil. Yes it'll go but it'll get more and more damaged till it can't and will need its entire engine replaced!

And yet I see new doctors and they look at me and the first thing out of their mouths is do I exercise? I should try doing a little every day :) and then i fucking blow their minds when I tell them about my job. No longer can they use that fucking cop out on me. I've been through this rodeo. Ive tried their suggestions. If you are in pain and nothing is helping? Exercise ain't going to do SHIT. You need to get to a point where you can move without severe pain first (if that's even possible). Then and only then should you consider implementing regular exercise if you can. Also weight loss talk is a red flag and a cop out. They made me lose 50+ lbs before they would look into the reasons behind my pain. Weight loss did nothing for me and exacerbated my pain.

I am living proof that all that shit is a lie and a cop out. That is the point of this post. I cannot believe people with serious medical conditions are being forced to put their bodies through extreme duress just to be believed. You are not disabled because of laziness or because you sit a lot. Plenty of people live seditary lifestyles and do not live in constant excruciating pain (they may develop disabilities later in life due to this however, and should be doing preventative exercises to maintain their health)

Please, share my story with doctors. Use me as an example. I am proof that "exercise first treat later" does not work. I should not have had to wait years to have my pain validated. I'd rather hundreds of fakers get (what? A blood test? An MRI?) than one chronically ill person get told to try yoga and go away by a doctor.

#wrenfea.exe #doctors and nurses dont fucking clown on this post #anything you say needs to be backed up by sources with apa citation thrown in for good measure #this is my personal experience dont tell me im exaggerating or just havent tried hard enough #i will kick you with my horse legs and then go lie down for 4 hours #bedbound people i am sending you so much love and will probably be joining you in a few years #chronic disability #chronic pain #spoonie #fibromyalgia #disability #chronic illness #from the field #physically disabled #this also applies to neurodivergent and mentally ill people but pls don't derail #this is mainly about physical disabilities #you are welcome to make your own post and reference mine if you want @ me and ill reblog it #sometimes im like oh i cant be disabled bc i do all this stuff im a faker inflatrating the community #and then i have days like today where i cannot leave my bed #i am so pissed off that people with long covid and ME have to go through that fucking exercise rehabilitation program #that actively makes their mitochondria worse #you wouldnt start using a vase without fixing the cracks first #the water will spill out and the flower will die #degenerative disc disease

[littlemissmanga]

I just need opinions on how you think any of the 501st men or Clone-Force 99 would handle chronic pain, something like migraines maybe, in their partner? I love all your work btw it's really incredible 🩵🩵🩵

Aw, thank you, Nonnie!

So this is something I think about a lot as I have a fucked up back. Fortunately, I have a really good group of drs so I've been able to go longer and longer without a flair up, but when I'm incapacitated on my couch, thinking of how these guys would react brings me so much comfort.

I think most of the boys would be really understanding and helpful. But let's get into it! HCs below the cut :)

Hunter may be able to sense acutely when you have a bad day before you even notice the symptoms (those heightened senses strike me like the way medical alert dogs can sense a seizure coming on in their human). His first instinct is to hold you against him, but he holds off until he ensures you are in the most comfortable place, your environment is perfect for what you need, and you have any medication needed. Then he'll wrap around you and do what he can to make you feel better. IDK why, but I feel like he'd gently hum a little tune as he holds you, literally trying anything and everything to soothe you. If he can't take away the physical pain, he can make damn sure you feel cared for.

Wrecker is also someone who's gonna try and cuddle you through an episode. If that's something that helps you, you'll be in heaven. He'll literally make a nest for you and bring you all the snacks. If your condition comes with muscle pain, he'll give you the most gentle and soothing massage. He will get that sad look in his eyes, though. Personally, I like seeing my partner care but I know some people don't like to feel pitied so if that's you, you may need to have a conversation with him. Similarly, if physical contact isn't helpful for you, you'll have to let him down gently. Best to give him something else to do - like help with the responsibilities you can't do - because Wrecker really doesn't like feeling as if he can't help.

Tech is going to learn everything about your condition itself. And I mean everything. He'll become the (secret) preeminent expert on your condition if he has to - and he'll very much believe he has to because frankly he doesn't trust previous doctors who told you this was just a condition you'll have to live with. You have to have a few talks with him that his insistence on trying new approaches to "cures" isn't helpful when you're having a flair up, and that while you love the intention behind it, you need him to either help you in the moment or leave it to you. That sobers him up a bit. But he mostly just puts the "cure" search on the backburner and focuses more on finding the optimal remedies for your symptoms in the moment. He won't really cuddle with you unless you expressly ask but he absolutely will bring his datapad into the room and research/work by your bedside so he can monitor your progress. He'll wake you every few hours to give you more medicine and make sure you stay hydrated.

Echo also studies up on your condition, but unlike Tech, he only cares about remedies. He'll run his findings by Tech, but generally trusts the literature regarding mitigating symptoms. If you find something that works better than other remedies, he's a stickler about making sure you have access to that remedy at all times. He's a big believer in being prepared. He may have some small treats for you, but he'd prefer to have nutritionally balanced food for you during a flair up to give your body everything it needs to get through this and recover. He usually doesn't cuddle with you, preferring to give you the space you need to settle in and recover. But he will be touching you constantly - caressing your head or arm - and talking softly with you if you're up for it.

Crosshair doesn't like admitting your condition scares him. You've explained it's not fatal or anything but it does cause you pain on the regular. And he doesn't like how matter of fact you are when you tell him you experience pain strong enough to put you out of commission with enough regularity that you have a plan for what to do when it happens. He knows you're not a complainer and you tend to push yourself, so for something to knock you out means it's serious. He feels useless and weak at not being able to help in what he feels is a meaningful way.

At first, he'll pull away, selfishly hiding from the sight of you in pain because he doesn't want to confront it. But if he does see you struggling or if he hears you in pain/call his name, he'll be right at your side. You need him. You asked for him. He won't leave you alone again. It'll take him a bit to figure out little tricks to helping you/making you feel better, but eventually he'll get into a rhythm. And woe be to anyone who crosses your path if you have a flair up in public - Crosshair is very much a shoot/punch first ask if they were a threat to you (in act or attitude) later.

501st Boys

Jesse, and Fives are going to learn all they can about the best way to make you feel better not through research but literally by quizzing you. They try asking the first time they see you in an acute flair up and realize those questions will have to wait until you're feeling a little better. And by quiz, I mean these guys prove why ARCs are made different. They'll get down into the minute details. The next time you feel your pain coming on, they'll make sure the environment is perfect for you to rest - as dark and quiet as you need, with all the water and snacks you could possibly want. And they'll totally give you snacks you want that'll make you feel better emotionally more than good for you snacks. If they can stay, they'll bring you bring you fresh, cool towels to drape over your forehead or ice packs/heating packs for your muscles every 30 minutes. Both feel like failures when they have to leave you during an episode.

Between the two, Jesse definitely relies on his humor and tries to keep you talking (if it doesn't hurt you more) to get you through this, and you love that he treats you like normal, that there's no pity in his eyes. But for Fives, this is a situation where he actually gets quiet, lowering his energy to give you the space to rest up.

Kix is, like Tech, going to do all the research. Unlike Tech, Kix has access to military-grade medical facilities. And he WILL use them to get a thorough understanding not just of your condition, but how your body handles the condition. He hates to see you in pain, and it's a negotiation with him as to how much medication you want/need as if Kix had his way, he'd just stick you in a bacta tank each flair up to minimize your pain and any damage ... which obviously isn't practical. Also, there's no "Maybe I can push through it, this flair up feels manageable." The moment Kix knows you're feeling symptoms, you're in the medbay. You'll also find the smallest of treats next to your bed when you wake up.

Dogma similarly, tolerates no negotiation. Sure, you've been dealing with your condition for a while, but if you're not following dr.'s or Kix's orders to the letter, he will make you. I feel like Dogma is incredibly passionate and feels deeply, and he will not risk your health or well being, even if you ask him to just trust you. Eventually, you need a mediation with Kix so Dogma gives you a little room to breathe. Like Wrecker, it helps to give Dogma things to do while you have a flair up so he feels like he's helping. He'll bring you everything you need and then go tidy up your living space or do your paperwork on your behalf or just general errands you need to run. Acts of service is his love language anyway, so this is a system that works really well for you both.

Rex hates that he can't always be with you during a flair up. He literally has a list of people you can call (in order of those he trusts the most to take care of you) if you need assistance. But you've come up with a code to message to his datapad in case he can't be there. If he gets your message, he'll excuse himself as quickly as possible to call you and just talk you through the worst of your flair up and ask if you need someone to be with you.

If he can be there, you won't find a more attentive and gentle person to nurse you through. He'll make sure you're settled and have everything you need and he'll talk you through it until you fall asleep. Then, he'll straighten up your living space and make some food for you for when you wake up. When you do, he'll give you a small portion to start with and hold you against him when you're done.

Tup will run you the most perfect bath ever. Water at the perfect temperature, no harsh smells in case that makes things worse. He helps you get settled then starts helping you wash. And by helping I mean he refuses to let you do anything for yourself. Getting your hair washed by Tup is a spiritual experience and something that, even if your pain persists, reenergizes your soul. He'll dry you gently with the fluffiest towels and then settles you in your room with all your comforts. He's another who will sit by your side until you feel better and he'll cuddle on request if it won't hurt you more.

I hope this is what you were looking for!!

Taglist: @clonemedickix @idontgetanysleep @sunshinesdaydream @dystopicjumpsuit @dreamie411 @secondaryrealm @wizardofrozz @wolffegirlsunite @blueink-bluesoul @wings-and-beskar @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations

#tbb #the bad batch #tbb hc #501st battalion #501st headcanons #captain rex #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper tup #clone medic kix #arc trooper fives #arc trooper jesse #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb crosshair

[ms-nesbit]

saving private grayson (a ww2!dick grayson x reader fic)

words: 3.6k

rating: 18+ (minors, as always, fuck off)

warnings: smut, insecure dick grayson, fainting, oral sex, masturbation, grief

summary: cadet Grayson faints prior to his departure to Belfast. His recovery is one to be remembered.

notes: i actually loved writing this one, but that's because i was working through some things. hope you like it too.

read on ao3

A fighter plane soared overhead as Dick sat on the patchy grass, waiting for the captain’s arrival. It was over a hundred and fifty three days since he last saw Gotham, let alone his adoptive father, prior to his draft into the war. God willing, he wanted to roam the tattered streets one last time, as he had prior to his departure, but Dick swallowed the same grief he felt on the campground that he had almost choked on the night of his parents’ death.

Skies above him heavily contrasted the doom looming over the camp, sun beaming down on the cadets’ freshly ironed uniforms. A voice boomed, alerting the cadets to their feet and in line in an orderly fashion.

“Today, you will be marched to your new base in Belfast. I’m not keen on girly talk, but…” the voice drowned out underneath the thumping in Dick’s temple. He had a migraine preceding his arrival to Ireland, but hadn’t thought much of it until the sun, kissing heat upon his face, dimmed, along with his peripherals.

“Grayson, you hear me? Grayson? Grayson!” was all that he heard before he collapsed, rifle plopping to the ground mere seconds before he.

—

Upon opening his eyes, Dick was met with a canvas tent hanging overhead, attempting to sit up and look around before a woman approached him, urging him to remain flat on the fold-out bed. She wore a short-sleeved white shirt and a blue A-line dress layered over it, her hair neatly tucked into a low bun.

“What happened?” Dick sleepily asked, still rising to consciousness.

An older woman stepped up to the other side of the bed, wearing a patch on her bosom, and frown wrinkles. “You passed out in the yard shortly before the march. Sergeant saw it best to keep you here, and send you off tomorrow if you’re better.” her voice was stern, and stare cold. All Dick could reply with was a faint nod. “Nurse y/l/n, please attend to this soldier and watch his vitals. I have to tend to the shipment from Red Cross to prepare us for the battle this week.”

Nurse y/l/n, opposite of the head nurse, replied curtly, “Yes, ma’am.” her posture loosened once the elder nurse vacated the tent, her shoulders rounding into a slump. Dick’s eyes never left her, and he didn’t know whether it was the possible concussion or the angelic figure posing as an ancillary to his recovery.

But he felt safe when she wrapped the blood pressure cuff to his left bicep, securing it before checking his numbers with the air bulb. Her free hand was on his forearm, index finger stroking his wildly strands of arm hair. “So,” he began, clearing his throat, “you, uh, come here a lot?”

Really, Grayson? Really? Dick shut his eyes as soon as he heard the maladroit attempt at flirtation leave his mouth. That is, until he saw the soft corner of her mouth twitch into an acute grin. “Seeing as though this is my station and you are my patient, yes, I believe I am here quite a bit.” the loud tear of the velcro from the cuff interrupted her. “Do you fall unconscious a lot?”

Her voice was titillating, cocking a brow as she stood beside him to hear his response. “Not until I saw you around.” Dick flashed his signature smile that worked back home, overlooking the tightly wrapped adhesive around the crown of his head.

It worked nonetheless, drawing a giggle from the nurse. Her effulgent smile called to him, like a moth to a flame, and he was instantly mesmerized by it. “Pretty sure you’d have passed out long before this morning if that were the case.” she suspected, “Where ya from?”

“Gotham, New Jersey, Miss. And you?”

Nurse y/l/n shrugged, “Chicago.”

Tilting his head to the side, Dick held out an imaginary cigar, mocking Al Capone. “Like the Great Bambino, eh?”

“That’s…the Yankees, hon.” she corrected, still amused by Dick’s charm. Well, there goes that, Dick thought to himself, never really was good at sports anyhow. “Maybe we should take your pulse if you think Baby’s from Chi-town.”

Dick pretended to brush off the criticism, despite being embarrassed by the failure. He lowered the scratchy blanket to expose his bare chest, hoping that maybe his physique could charm the pretty dame. She blinked at the toned figure, dismissive of it as she placed the cold stethoscope on his chest. “Deep breaths in, Big Al.” Dick’s chest rose and fell with his breath. “Again.” she moved her stethoscope, reaching on the far side of the bed (and leaning on Dick’s arm and shoulder) to register the health of his other lung.

As Dick breathed, he glanced over at her free hand, which rested on Dick’s, unaware of the contact. He restrained himself from interlocking their fingers, or bringing her hand to his lips to place a delicate kiss. “Can you sit up for me?” the nurse requested, adjusting her posture.

Dick obliged, sitting up straight as he felt the cold stethoscope on either side of his shoulders; his skin kindled where it met hers, and he took long, deep breaths to prolong the contact he desperately sought.

“You know, my father said we lived around where the St. Valentine’s massacre took place.” she added, folding the stethoscope before neatly placing it in her uniform pocket. “Said that it was just dreadful. My mother didn’t want to leave their apartment for days.” Jesus, that accent’s beautiful. “What about you? I heard that some of the folks from Chicago fled to Gotham after Capone’s arrest. S’that true?”

Treading carefully about his response without compromising his vigilante identity (or that of his adoptive father), Dick pursed his lips before pushing them out, making a ‘pop’. “Heard about it, yeah. I was told when my parents died that one of the goons that murdered them was an import from Chicago, though I dunno for sure.”

Sympathy took over the nurse’s face. “I’m sorry about your parents.” she prefaced, expression soft. “Your vitals look fine. Are you sure you weren’t dehydrated from bathing in the sun for so long?”

Gotcha. Dick grinned cockily. “How did you know I was resting in the sun for a bit?”

The nurse realized her mistake, and instantly exhaled through her nose. “I do believe that’s irrelevant. Well, I think it’d be best if you stayed here in the shade for a while, especially considering the humidity expected this week.”

“Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you’re the one caring for me.” Dick refuted, satisfied with his answer. “Though if we were to become acquainted, I think it would be good for me to get your name. Y’know, for my health.” he placed a hand over his heart.

The nurse rolled her eyes. “You’re not the first one to pull that one over me.” she interposed his zeal, popping it like an overinflated balloon. “But if you wish,” she sighed, leaning in to his ear, her breath close enough to tickle his ear like an inviting breeze. Her voice dipped an octave, the reticence resembling seduction. “My name is y/n.”

“Y/n, huh?” Dick repeated quietly, the name rolling easily from his tongue. “Pleasure is mine.” 

As y/n left, she kept her eyes on Dick, until she turned to exit the tent. It would have been ignorant of Dick to dismiss the way he melted at the sound of her voice, especially in close proximity, and after the interaction, it left Dick full of emotion: taming his debauchery, triumphant in learning nurse y/l/n’s name, and… an unusual feeling. One he hadn’t felt since his time traveling Europe and the States with his parents.

When the night drifted in, soldiers and nurses drifting in and out of the medical tent with their own preoccupations, Dick waited for y/n’s return, eyes darting to the entrance any time he heard footsteps approach. It wasn’t until past dusk, when most of the stationed cadets were ordered back to their quarters, and head nurse into hers, that y/n arrived. By that point, Dick’s eyelids were heavy, bored by the lack of contact, and almost falling asleep.

That is, until he spotted y/n walking slowly up to his bedside. “Hey, you.” he dreamily greeted.

“Do you feel a little better?” y/n withdrew her stethoscope from her pocket, reading Dick’s pulse.

“I do now that you’re here.”

Nurse y/n rolled her eyes at Dick. “I guess I did walk right into that one.” she admitted. “One of the nurses told me, and I wanted to know if this was true 𑁋 were you one of the Flying Graysons?”

“Mm-hmm.” Dick replied.

“Thought you looked familiar. You traveled to the Cicero area back in ‘29 or ‘28, right?”

Dick’s eyes slowly widened, recollection washing over him. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I saw you guys there. I was 9 or 10. Thought you were all a gas.” she conceded, murmuring under her breath  as she turned away to set the blood pressure monitor, “Thought you were really cute, too.”

Dick’s lips turned into a devious smile. “Am I still cute?”

“Depends.” y/n adjusted the cuff on Dick’s bicep, ignoring his flexing of it. “Are you always this mouthy?”

Mouthy? “I just like making some conversation, that’s all.”

Y/n scoffed. “The other on-duty nurses said you were quiet as a mouse when they were around.”

“...so you asked about me?” Dick’s smile was bright, even in the dark, impervious to any of y/n’s attempts to shut down his flirtation.

“Just so you know,” y/n began, pumping the air bulb of the blood pressure cuff, “if Madame - the head nurse - sees me primarily with you when we’re handling a wave of wounds, she’ll dismiss me for the day.”

Dick couldn’t quite pin whether or not y/n’s statement was more of a bluff than a fact. Why would the head dismiss her when they need her most? “Then why not stay the night with me tonight so I won’t miss you so much when it happens?”

A sheepish grin appeared on y/n’s face, followed by a glare. “Do you know how much trouble I would be in if Madame found out?”

“Make something up. I am requesting for you to be at my side for the night for my care.” Dick reached out to touch y/n’s hand, her fingers bending to close around his, before she unhanded him, walking over to the nurse’s station to jot something down.

Dick waited patiently for y/n to return, his leg jumping in the medical bed - similar to a dog’s tail wag - upon y/n’s return. “Had to write down my reason for extended stay, along with your vitals, since you seem to be burning up, Grayson.” she hinted, eyes pleading for Dick to play along.

“My head.” Dick mumbled dramatically, pressing a palm to his forehead. In response, y/n snickered, barely covering her mouth with her hand. “So where were we?” Dick scooted up in his bed, patting a space beside him for y/n to sit; she thanked him and sat stiffly. “It’s okay. If Madame shows up, I can just cover for you. It’s not a problem.”

Y/n turned to face Dick, tucking her feet underneath her thighs. Sweet mercy… Dick thought to himself when he caught a glimpse of y/n’s bare thighs, exposed by the rising nurse uniform. “Your job growing up as an…”

“Acrobat.” Dick finished.

“Right.” y/n said. “Acrobat.” she repeated, mostly for her own sake. “Do you miss traveling? I’m sure being here is nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Though she had a point, she was overall incorrect: Grayson was accustomed to the grime and grit of Gotham, almost blocking out the fugue state of traveling from destination to destination as a child. He looked down as he thought through his answer. “I suppose I do miss it,” he started, dallying facade fading, “but I mostly miss my parents. I never even got to say goodbye.

“And what hurt even more was how I went from this traveling boy wonder-” he paused at the slipup, “-to the adopted son of a Wayne. I’m thankful for the comfortable life, especially since the Depression overtook most of Gotham, but…my adoptive father doesn’t…” he trailed, overcome with emotion. His overgrown dark strands of hair - a mop, as his captain named it - draped over his eyes, masking the tears welling up in his eyes.

But y/n could tell from the broken voice that he was in too deep, and that the war was the last possible thing to break his spirit. She cupped his chin, lifting it so their eyes could meet, neatly combing his loose strands behind his ears. She then wiped a stray tear before it could run down his cheek. “I don’t understand what that’s like,” she admitted, eyes still on his, “but sometimes it’s not okay. Men here get shell shock, and all of a sudden, they realize how poorly they were treated all their lives, and this war was the breaking point to crush their soul. I was worried it would happen to you too.”

Y/n’s hand still on his cheek, Dick cocked his head. “How do you mean?”

“You’re…different, Richard. Most of the cadets that march through here are just boys in uniform, boys in a line, boys with guns. And I’m not sure exactly how old you are,” she chuckled, “but you carry yourself with wise eyes. There’s something in there, and it’s okay to let go.”

The words settled themselves on the bed with Dick and y/n, crawling up Dick’s side, neck, and into his ear. They nauseated him at first, but because y/n was right: he left Gotham for a better cause, but also because he lost himself in the mask and costume. It consumed his identity whole, and Bruce hadn’t seen past his own arrogance to know any better.

Suddenly, y/n’s eyes were familiar. Dick wanted to climb into them and hide, live a free life as a free man, free from the burden he carried - no longer an Atlas; rather, an acrobat, flying about. Despite being the last Flying Grayson, his wings were clipped, and he treaded the Earth, with tattered feathers and blistered feet. 

Stunned, Dick opened his mouth, wanting to say what he repeated in his mind: Come with me. Come home with me. Be my home. He understood now why men in uniforms wed upon their first day back on the mainland. He squeezed her hand, bowing his head in to press his lips to y/n’s.

Y/n returned the kiss, sharply inhaling at the scent of tar, musk, and evergreen Dick carried. His lips were welcoming, warm, as she kissed him, and when she pulled away, she was met with his oceanic eyes crashing at the shore for her.

Again. His eyes asked. Please, kiss me again.

And by all the willpower she had, y/n did, holding Dick’s face with her hands.

Their kiss was deep, passionate, and if it hadn’t been for the lack of privacy, they would have stripped their clothing by minutes’ time. Instead, y/n’s hands roamed to every muscle Dick allowed her to explore, her fingers reaching down, down, down…

Dick gasped into the kiss, y/n’s hand brushing against his clothed erection. She pulled away once more, this time asking with heavy eyes - to which Dick nodded, granting her access to unzip and away the restriction between his need and her desire to touch.

“I have you.” y/n whispered endearingly, pressing her lips to Dick’s cupid’s bow. He reclined, allowing her to take him, his self-control signed away the moment he laid eyes on her. Y/n unbuckled and tugged down Dick’s uniform trousers, along with his underwear, exposing his hardened need. The sight of it alone - truly needy, with precum pooling at its head, throbbing - ignited a heat in y/n’s core.

Dick saw the glossed over look in her eyes, and asked, very tenderly, “May I touch you?”

Y/n managed only a nod, a single one, body impatiently waiting for his contact. To her surprise, Dick placed a hand on her cheek, stroking it, with fond eyes. “There is something I would like to do, if that were alright with you.” he licked his lips, expression nervous. “Can I…taste you?”

He stared longingly at y/n, her hand still at the base of his pelvic bone. Marry me. Love me. Have me as yours. I’ll protect you from everything, he wanted to say, wanted to express, wanted. That was it though: an eternal yearning, or a momentary desire? Dick hadn’t known, nor did he want to spoil his chances at finding out himself. He only waited for y/n to answer, as she contemplated silently.

“Yes.” she breathed, “but be kind and patient. This is my first time.” her cheeks sprinkled a dusty pink. Dick moved on the bed, hands sprawling over y/n’s clothed body as he took all the time he wished he always had. He pushed y/n’s dress up, and rolled her stockings down to her ankles, just barely enough to allow himself access to her dripping core.

He bestowed kisses along her legs, stopping near her sensitive folds as he took in the beauty before him. With one hand, he held her thigh; his other enclosed around his hard cock, breathing unevenly as he waited for her affirmation.

“I’m ready.” she susurrated, voice unstable. With that, Dick dove his head in, licking at her folds. Y/n gasped, legs spreading further. “Oh” she breathed halfheartedly, weakly, as Dick lapped at her bundle of nerves.

Dick rutted into his hand, as eager to hear the noises y/n emitted as he was to know he was the source. He moaned into her pussy, causing her to whimper, hips rising to meet with his mouth. Her head spun, full of everything and nothing; her vision blurred, finding herself near her high, and Dick knew by the way her legs trembled, breathing unsteady, and he thrusted relentlessly into his hand.

“I wanna come with you.” Dick offered, still stroking his cock. “Please, y/n, I want you to come with me.” It was a long time since he wanted to selflessly love, to feel someone else fall before him. Dick would be the first to admit that he behaved selfishly in the past, but not here, not with y/n unwinding beneath his touch, by his touch.

The hospital bed creaked in the night as y/n’s hips faltered, driven by ardor and primal need. “Keep going, Dick,” she whined quietly, as to not disturb the sleeping crew outside of the tent, or - even worse - the shameless nymph that Dick brought out in her.

Dick knew. He saw it in her eyes as they watered, and the way her chin shook with desire. Using the hand that held her thigh, which was now bruised from the tightened grip, he inserted a finger into her entrance, pushing past its fluttering walls to curve into her g-spot, licking and sucking on her clit until she reached her breaking point.

“Oh, my god!” y/n threw her head back into the thin sheets of the hospital bed, hips buckling into Dick’s face and finger as she rode out her orgasm. Dick continued moaning, eyeing her fucked out state, as he chased his own high.

When y/n’s hips fell, she became cognizant of her surroundings - especially Dick, still between her legs, fucking his hand as he stifled his loud moans in the skin of her thigh. Y/n watched intently, ruffling her hand through his untidy dark hair. “Go on, Dear. Come for me.” she cooed, snapping whatever reality Dick held on to, and sending him into a whirling high.

“Y/n, fuck.” Dick whimpered weakly, ropes of cum coming out as he thrusted into his hand. He cursed under his breath, and through barely closed lips, before he finally stilled his hips, and released his now spent cock from his grip.

Y/n fixed her stockings and dress, rushing to her feet to assist in cleaning Dick’s mess. She returned with a warm towel, and a glass of water, urging Dick to lie down as she helped blot up the sticky cum that fell on himself and his blanket.

“You really don’t need to baby me, y/n.” Dick joked.

“I’m not,” y/n reminded, “just wanted to clean up since that stuff looks uncomfortable to deal with.”

Dick burst into laughter. “It is.” he sipped some of the water before reaching over and placing it on the stand-up end table beside his bed. “Can I hold you? When you’re free, of course.” he chuckled awkwardly, new to the circumstance.

Y/n neatly folded the towel and placed it under Dick’s bed, in a hidden bag for used towels. She climbed into the bed with Dick, laying on her side as Dick brought his arm around her shoulders, closing the space between them.

Silently, they shared the night together, listening for the distant whoosh of the ocean, and the crickets’ calling for one another. Y/n was first to drift to sleep, her inhale stuttering before she released a deep exhale through her nose. Dick kissed her hair, occasionally glancing at her relaxed, dreamed state.

“I love you.” he muttered, low enough for barely even his ear to catch. He was happy with his answer from the universe, the bluebird resting in Robin’s arms as they began their tidings together. Whether he were to fly to war, buried in hollow nests and earthly burrows, he knew that his home was here, under the bluebird’s wing, with her body intertwined with his.

He no longer felt heavy. Dick Grayson was free.

#dick grayson #robin #nightwing #batman #batfamily #dick grayson x reader #soldier!dick grayson #cadet!dick grayson #dick grayson x plus size reader #robin x reader #dick grayson is in his 20s #angsty!dick grayson #smut #ao3 #fanfic #my post #mine

[shallow-seas-we-sail]

It’s not that Lena hates these stuffy, bougie galas. She enjoys the philanthropy she is able to provide through L-Corp (and honestly, any publicity is good publicity since Lex). What Lena doesn’t like is the mingling. She’d rather cut the check and run (but again: publicity) and despite her best efforts, Jess would not comply with her request to call with a (fabricated) emergency to get her out of the annual CatCo correspondents’ dinner.

“You can’t just throw money at it.” Jess had told her one late night in her office.

“Can’t I?” Lena retorted as she poured herself another shallow glass of scotch from her wet bar.

Jess narrowed her eyes, and then shrugged nonchalantly, “You can, just be prepared to be the next hit piece in a CatCo op-ed.”

Lena scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Cat knows better. Luthors can be very litigious. Plus,” she waved off Jess’s concern, “she would have some poor burgeoning reporter's head on her desk before my lawyer could even draw up the paperwork.”

And okay, so what if it’s CatCo’s yearly gala and fundraiser? Lena and Cat are professionally cordial at least, so Lena isn’t too concerned about a so-called “hit piece.” What Lena doesn’t want is to rub shoulders with the National City and California elites that attend (she is also acutely aware of the irony of that, by the way, thank you). Plus she hates walking the red carpet, and yeah, maybe she partially dissociates when the paparazzi yell her name for photo ops. And yeah, she knows that’s probably not healthy, but it’s mostly because there are always follow up questions about Lex and Superman, which leads to the beginnings of a migraine just behind her eyes.

So who can blame her if she doesn’t want to deal with the whispers behind her back or the side glances, or how the crowd parts like the Red fucking Sea when all she is really trying to do is get a drink at the bar. Plus, all the afterimages of camera flashes leaves her talking blindly to whomever is brave enough to step into her proximity, and she does not need to be throwing money at just anyone (Elon will have to pry L-Corp from her cold dead hands before Lena sells to that human beluga of an asshole.)

So, that’s exactly why she has her driver take her down the alley to the side entrance of the building instead of waiting in the limousine line that wraps around the block. No red carpet. No flashing lights. No questions. Just the way she likes it.

Lena wrings her hands together and shifts anxiously in the car’s backseat. The partition lowers a few inches until she can see her driver's eyes reflecting back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Would you like me to get the door, Miss Luthor?”

Lena shakes her head and looks down, absently tracing a finger along the palm of her hand, “In a moment.”

The driver gives a curt nod, “Of course.”

When Lena raises her head, she glances out the window, noticing some of the banquet staff taking their last smoke break by the dumpsters before the event begins. She absently wonders if she could bum a cigarette to calm her nerves when the idling staff crane their necks upwards toward the sky and suddenly scatter backwards as Supergirl touches down unexpectedly in front of them. She tugs at her very formal, and very tailored suit jacket, smoothing her hands down her front as she gives a quick greeting to the gawking staff around her.

And oh no, she is devastatingly handsome in a navy Oxford suit accented in deep crimson checkering. Her hair is down, flowing in loose curls over her shoulders and she lets out a bright laugh at something one of the banquet staff says and Lena’s anxious heart turns downright traitorous. She breathes out a mumbled ‘fuck’ and wills herself to focus on something, anything,  in some desperate attempt to settle her nerves (focusing it turns out is just staring at the carpeted floor of her town car, stock-still like some moron).

She has only met Supergirl all of once, and that’s when she was pulling her out of a smoking helicopter. She isn’t sure how that evolved into a crush, but... well, here she is, pining after a literal goddess like the rest of National City. And maybe that’s because —from a strictly observational standpoint— it appeared that Supergirl’s once-over welfare check was simply benign, except to Lena (self described Queen of reading-much-into-any-pretty-girl-who-glances-in- her-direction ). The hero's proximity was more dizzying than the quarterly assassination attempt and had promptly lodged herself beside Lena’s heart more than a bullet ever could.

“Are you okay?” Supergirl asked, frantic eyes moving up and down Lena’s body as her hands ran over her back and down her arms.

Lena cleared her throat, “Yeah. I-..uh, I’m good.” she mumbled half-heartedly and placed her hands on Supergirl’s shoulders as she pulled in a steadying breath, trying to center herself. Her mind raced; was it Lex? Her mother? Morgan Edge?

Supergirl stilled for a moment, an eyebrow slowly beginning to arch as cool eyes met Lena’s and a subtle smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, “I know that,” she said with conspiratorial mirth, “I’m asking if you’re hurt.”

Lena glanced down, taking a quick inventory of all of her extremities. Everything was intact, “Yeah, I think so,” she said, bringing her attention back to the hero in front of her.

Clear eyes never wavered, they only flickered across Lena’s face; eyes, nose and then settling on her lips. And whatever adrenaline had been pumping through Lena’s veins was suddenly replaced by something wholly unexpected; a yearning to have those quirked, half smiling lips pressed against her own.

Anyway, Lena’s brain went offline after that. Maybe because any words she had were left bouncing around in the empty real estate of her head because the hero saw her as ‘ good.’ Or maybe it was because Supergirl was sky bound before she had the chance to thank her. It wasn’t until she spoke to Sam later that evening that described the entire ordeal as “ tragically sexy .”

continue on ao3

Lena blinks back to reality and clears her throat, “Frank, could you get the do-..”

But that’s when she notices it; Supergirl is looking at her. A breath hitches in the center of Lena’s chest, because she doesn’t feel as though she is being stared at. No, Lena feels like she is being seen. Really seen. And much to her surprise, the feeling to cram down her anxiety and doubts into some small box in the storage room in the back of her mind doesn’t come. Lena can feel the warm flush that moves over her body, and she just feels... nice.

Warm and protected.

And she has no idea where that is coming from, and despite the foreignness of it, she embraces it.

The driver door opens, and Supergirl takes a few quick strides forward, raising her hand towards Lena’s driver.

“I’ve got it.” she says in a rush as she arrives at Lena’s door, pulling it open.

“Hey.” Supergirl smiles, “Hi.” and offers her hand, which Lena slips her own into as she steps out of the town car.

“Not one for grand entrances?” Supergirl questions as she turns, and offers her arm for Lena. And that’s a mistake, because when Lena reaches out, linking her arm with the hero’s, she can feel the taut muscles beneath that sexy tailored suit and her 185 IQ and rational thinking burns up in the space between her ears.

(Sam had once told her she falls in love too easily, “By the time a pretty girl looks at you, you are already planning your third date. When she kisses you, you’ve already picked out the color palette for your hers and hers bathroom, and when she slips a finger in you, you’re already saying your vows.”)

“No, I prefer to be out back with the trash.” Lena hears herself and cringes, because oh my god what are words even?

She can see the confused look Supergirl's face screws up into briefly in her periphery, and Lena seriously considers going into a full sprint and diving in the nearby dumpster until she hears a laugh from the woman beside her.

“Then I guess you can call me the garbage man, because I’m here to pick you up.”

And Lena isn’t even sure how Supergirl turned her pile of idiotic words held together with scotch tape into a pick-up line, but she did and it’s totally working for Lena.

Like, embarrassingly so.

She lets go of an indignant snort of laughter as they walk arm in arm through the side entrance and through the kitchen. Supergirl leads them, politely side stepping staff and chefs until she stops short of the kitchen staff door that leads to the banquet hall.

“Thank you.” Lena says, regrettably pulling her arm back.

“It was my pleasure.” the blonde says with a dip of her head.

They stand for a moment in each other’s space until Supergirl straightens up, turning her head towards the hall. “I-..” she juts her thumb over her shoulder, “I gotta go. There’s this thing I need to do an-”

Lena chuckles and raises her hand, waving her off, “It’s okay, Supergirl. Duty calls I’m sure. Thank you for the escort.”

Supergirl glances over her shoulder towards the banquet hall and then back to Lena, “Oh, it’s not work. Well,” Supergirl teeters her head side to side, “not that saving people and fighting aliens is work. I mean, I guess it is, but I enjoy it, ya know, helping out. I helped you out, and that’s great because you’re still alive, so.. ”

Supergirl trails off, running a hand over the back of her neck, and shifts her weight on her feet. Lena blinks. There is no way both of them can be this stupid in each other’s presence, and yet.

“Anyway, Cat Grant’s car is pulling up, and I gotta be there.”

Lena arches an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“It’s just a favor. More like, a security thing. I’m just going to hang out with her this evening.”

Supergirl and Cat Grant walking on the red carpet together? Lena can already see tomorrow’s headlines.

“Very May-December of you. Sounds like a date.” Lena whispers conspiratorially.

Supergirl scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Pfft. Yeah right. With Cat Grant? No, no way. It’s not a date. It’s totally a work-.. favor thing.” Supergirl stammers. “I’m just extra security.”

“I didn’t know Supergirl moonlighted as security. Especially,” Lena gestures towards Supergirl's attire, “looking like that.”

The blonde clears her throat and Lena can see the flush that creeps up her neck and settles into her cheeks. And sure, it may have taken a bit for Lena’s brain to jump start, but she finally feels she has gained the flirting upper hand.

“You like it?” the hero asks, spreading out her arms and glancing down, “My sister said I needed to upgrade my wardrobe, so..” she gestures vaguely up and down with her hands at, ya know, this.

Lena reaches out, pinching the fabric of the hero’s jacket collar between her fingers, “It suits you.”

Supergirl quirks an eyebrow, and slips her hands into her pockets as she takes a step forward, encroaching into Lena’s personal space. It is incredibly nonchalant and cool, and it makes a spike of heat coil low in Lena’s stomach.

And just like that the upper hand slips right through her fingers. Lena dips her head with a nervous laugh, and when she looks back up, blue eyes are studying her just like before; flickering across her features; eyes, nose, and mouth. Lena pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and gives (she hopes) a flirtatious smile as she pulls away from the hero’s collar and sweeps some imaginary lint off her shoulder.

“I think you have a date to get to.”

The corner of Supergirl’s mouth twitches up into a smile as she rocks back on her heels and spins smoothly away from Lena, “Not a date.” she says, pulling a hand out of her pocket and raising a finger towards the ceiling. She glances over her shoulder one more time as she turns and pushes out the double doors of the kitchen, shooting a mischievous smile in Lena’s direction.

“Sounds like a date!” Lena calls out, and she can hear the bright laughter that fades as the blonde disappears around the corner.

-----

Lena is three complimentary glasses of champagne in and vaguely considering strapping Elon to one of his rockets and shooting him out into the void of space as he wraps up his speech when the skylight above the banquet hall shatters. National City’s elite scramble out of the way, ducking under tables and diving behind the bar. Lena stays firmly on the periphery of the open floor and leans against a wall, crossing her arms. A banquet worker scurries by her with a tray of drinks, and Lena casually reaches out, snagging her fourth complimentary glass as she watches CADMUS agents repel down from the broken skylight.

They brandish large, alien guns; pointing and posturing at guests who cower and throw expensive wallets, purses and watches in their direction. And sure, maybe Miley Cyrus and Kim Kardasian don’t deserve to have alien bazookas or whatever pointed in their faces, but Lena can’t help the smug satisfaction she feels when Elon steps toe to toe with one of the agents and gets caught in one of the guns gravitational blast and is sent hurtling through the air and through an ice sculpture on the other side of the room. The crowd gasps and somewhere across the room Tesla stocks plummet.

Lena rolls her eyes, and throws back the rest of her champagne, bubbly and burning down her throat. Leave it to a Luthor to either: 1. be the cause of a hostage situation (planned or taken) or 2. diffuse a hostage situation.

“What do you want?” Lena asks, putting on her best cold, boardroom demeanor as she walks out towards the center of the floor.

One of the agents clicks his tongue and raises his gun up as Lena approaches him, “Just you.” he sneers, and Lena only stops when the muzzle is pressed flat against her chest. Maybe that fourth glass has made her a little more brazen and reckless than usual. But honestly, she is so sick of this shit. Assassination attempt this . Turning the sun red that.

Ugh. The Luthor’s are so exhausting.

“Lucky you. Here I am.” Lena says, cocking her head to the side and out of the corner of her eye she can see something these big dumb, disposable bodies can’t; a blur of handsomely tailored blue and red moving through the crowd.

“But,” Lena starts, raising her hand and resting it on the gun's barrel, “I have something you don’t.”

The agent scoffs and glances over his shoulder towards his two other idiot companions, who fiddle with their own guns and raise them towards Lena as well.

“Clearly the only thing you have is a smart mouth.”

Lena hums, “Not only that. I have a Supergirl.”

The agent's brows raise and before any hint of concern can flash across his features, he is hurtling in the air, crashing into the remaining ice sculpture and taking down a stumbling Elon again with him.

The other two agents discharge their weapons in no discernable direction, taking out more of the skylight, part of the roof and blasting a hole straight through the wall revealing a scattering kitchen staff.

Chaos erupts around Lena as people run as lasers or gravitational beams or whatever light up overhead and around the room. Debris falls from the ceiling and Lena rolls her eyes as she turns, and walks over to the nearest un-overturned table. She lifts a toppled chair from the ground and sits, crossing her legs and pulling off her heels. The two remaining goon agents disappear in a blur from the center of the floor and Supergirl appears in front of her with an accompanying gust of wind, holding both men by the scruff of their necks.

“What the hell was tha..?!” Supergirl asks incredulously, but then averts her attention to one of the agents who is squirming in her vise grip. “Hey!” Supergirl snaps, lifting the man and giving a firm shake, “Quit it.”  

“Lena,” the blonde starts again, “What the hell were you think-..” But she is interrupted when the agent launches back his elbow in some feeble attempt to escape and is only met with the unmoving object that is Supergirl’s face.

Supergirl huffs, blowing a few errant strands of hair out of her face as the agent howls in pain, cradling his shattered elbow. The hero cuts her eyes to the other agent, who has remained obediently still since being apprehended.

“I’m not doing that,” he stammers, pointing at his partner and then raising his hands, “You’ve got me.”

The exits burst open and agents swarm the area. Cat is arguing with one frustrated redhead in particular who is showing her FBI credentials. Lena notices these agents are dressed more tactically than paper pushy, so she draws the conclusion that they must be one of the higher up government acronyms.

Supergirl hands off the two goons in relatively quick fashion, and then is back in front of Lena, offering a hand, “They have it covered here. I can take you home if you’d like, or get your driver?”

Lena slips back on her heels before standing and taking Supergirl’s hand in her own, “Could you take me by my office? There’s something I need to grab.”

“Isn’t it a little late for work? Especially after your second assassination attempt this week?” Supergirl asks, leading them towards the nearest open exit. Red and blue lights flash along the exterior of the building, casting flickering shadows.

“Oh god, no.” Lena chuckles and licks her lips as she wraps her arms around Supergirl’s neck and the hero scoops her up into her arms like it is second nature, “I have a bottle of twenty-five year old scotch there that isn’t at my house.

Supergirl smiles as they lift into the air, “A nightcap then.”

“It’s my second assassination attempt this week. I think I deserve it.”

The blonde turns her head and hums, and Lena can practically feel the reverberations through her body, “I’d say you deserve a vacation at this rate.”

“Have any good recommendations?” Lena asks as Supergirl flies, curving smoothly around downtown buildings. A warm ocean breeze lifts through their hair, sending a few errant, blonde strands tickling across Lena's face as they land softly on the L-Corp balcony of her office. Lena slips effortlessly from the hero’s grip, feet making contact with the solid ground as her hands slide from around Supergirl’s neck, and down her shoulders.

“I’d probably suggest somewhere warm. Maybe off the grid. I’m sure you can afford to rent out an island or two for a few weeks.”

Lena gives a crooked smirk as she turns and runs her hand over the biometric lock, “I’m not much for the sun.”

“Huh. That’s too bad.” Supergirl mumbles behind her, “Can’t imagine you’d look bad in a bikini.”

Lena’s hand hovers just above the handle as she slowly turns her head back towards the blonde woman behind her, “Is that what you imagine?”

Supergirl blinks, stutters some nonsensical words, and Lena kind of loves that she can make this woman wipe to a complete blank slate with a few velvety, flirtatious words

(She almost wants to Facetime Sam and tell her that she has made it through another assassination attempt, and has had some decidedly sexy, not tragic interactions with Supergirl for a second time, so there. )

The blonde presses a fist to her mouth, and clears her throat, “How about that nightcap?”

Lena quirks an eyebrow as she pushes the balcony door open and extends her arm, “Mhm. Heroes first.”

The blonde ducks her head and in a few quick strides is in Lena’s office, “Can I get you anything in particular? Wine? I have a nice sherry if you’d like.”

“I’ll have what you’re having,” the blond replies as Lena walks by her towards the wet bar, “Human alcohol doesn't have much of an effect, but I enjoy the taste.”

Lena picks up a crystal decanter, and removes the heavy, bulbous top, bringing it to her nose. She breathes in the peaty notes, and sets it down before pulling out two rocks glasses. She glances up at the mirror above the bar and watches as Supergirl ambles around her office, running her fingers along the smooth curve of her desk until she comes to a stop a few feet behind Lena, catching her eyes with her own reflection.

Lena licks her lips and smiles before glancing down to pour two shallow glasses of amber liquid. Suddenly there is a solid wall of warmth at her back, and she can feel Supergirl’s hand hovering just above her shoulder.

“You’re injured,” the hero says in a breathy rush, and each of Lena’s hand stills around the rocks glasses she is holding. Her eyes cut up to the mirror and she can see the concern etched into the hero’s face as she dips her head to more closely examine whatever injury has marred Lena.

“It’s just a few scratches,” the hero says, her face still very serious. “Here,” Supergirl reaches around Lena, grabbing a cocktail napkin and dipping it into one of the glasses of scotch, “just hold still.”

Lena snaps out of her reverie of the firm, warm body pressed against her back when she realizes what Supergirl is doing. She lets out a hiss of pain when the alcohol hits her skin, and the blonde sets a hand on Lena’s hip, and squeezes reassuringly. Lena screws her eyes shut at the stinging that pricks up along her shoulder.

“Hold on,” Supergirl whispers, and Lena lets go of another shuddering breath as the napkin moves across her skin, “Almost finished.”

And any willpower Lena had to not lean back into the woman behind her begins to wither away. She tries to swallow down the moan in the back of her throat, and suddenly the sting of her shoulder is replaced with a coolness that Lena doesn’t expect. Her eyes snap open and she can see puckered lips blowing out along her shoulder, cooling angry red marks.

Dark, blue eyes cut up to Lena’s, and they hold each other’s gaze for a moment in the mirror's reflection, and whatever line they had been toeing all night Lena is ready to nuke off the face of the planet when the blonde speaks again.

“Good girl,” she says quietly, pressing herself fully against Lena from behind, “All done.”

A mushroom cloud goes up in the space between Lena’s ears, and her body slackens against the hero, who noses just behind the shell of her ear. Warmth spreads like a wildfire across Lena’s body, and she forgets about the glasses in her hands, leaving them on the wet bar, and screws her eyes shut as she reaches blindly behind her with one hand, tangling into blonde hair while her other hand pulls at the hand resting on her hip, bringing it around to her stomach. Lena tilts her head, exposing the slope of her neck, and cool lips immediately attach, nipping and sucking, and Lena instantly feels dizzy at the sensation. Her hips buck, and the hand on her stomach flattens, pulling Lena close close close .

The cocktail napkin in Supergirl’s hand drops, and then is suddenly ghosting up Lena’s side; over the ladder of her ribs, fingers trailing the underside of her breast until the blonde’s hand is resting against her collarbone. Lena gasps when she feels the hero’s fingers flex just south of her throat and she can feel the smile that grows against her neck before the blonde nibbles and sucks gently on her earlobe.

Lena’s mind goes blissfully blank as the blonde’s hand drifts further down her stomach and strong fingers begin to ruck up the designer fabric of her dress until she exposes the tops of her thighs and wet patch of underwear. Supergirl’s hand slips under the front of her dress, fingers dancing just above the band of Lena’s underwear and somewhere through her heady arousal a desperate ‘fuck me’ plays on repeat like a mantra, bouncing off the walls in the echo chamber of Lena’s mind.

Lips and teeth move across the line of Lena’s jaw, each hot, open mouth kiss leading further down the flexing tendon in Lena’s neck until she feels the blonde nip at her pulse point and then smooth the spot with her tongue before leaving a suckling kiss. Every sensation feels amplified, and before Lena can name it, identify and categorize it, her body betrays her. She arches, pressing her ass hard into the cradle of Supergirl’s hips as her hand pulls at blonde hair and any embarrassment she may have is completely decimated by the lightning fast orgasm that shoots through her body.

Red hot mortification floods Lena as quickly as the endorphins do, and goes rigid, suddenly very aware of the throbbing between her legs. She readies herself to push off and away from Supergirl, make some flimsy excuse about work or a phone call (even if there is no phone ringing, so what) and not even remotely begin to mention the dry spell (who is she kidding: absolute drought) she has been going through for god knows how long. But Supergirl’s grip tightens, preventing Lena’s escape, and she can feel the blonde chuckle against her neck as Lena’s hands shoot up to cover her face.

“Oh my god” are the only words Lena can speak into her hands at the moment, and she readies herself for the inevitable rejection she can sense coming when she feels Supergirl pull in a deep breath.

Lena shakes her head, “That doesn’t usually happ-..”

“Wow. I thought I was supposed to be faster than a speeding bullet.”

Lena stills for a moment, hand sliding down her face. She dares to open her eyes, and finds Supergirl grinning in the mirror’s reflection, downright pleased with herself. Lena’s brain short circuits for a moment.

Did this handsome bitch just make a joke?

Lena suddenly spins on her heels, coming face to face with Supergirl, her mouth dropping open in faux (and maybe actually a little) offense as she presses a finger against smirking lips.

“Don’t you dare,” Lena warns.

“Or what?” The blonde asks, readjusting her hands so they politely rest on Lena’s hips.

Lena blinks, “I’ll drop twenty kryptonite guns out of the ceiling and blast you out of my office.”

Supergirl rolls her eyes, “You’re not the type.”

“Shut up,” Lena counters with a roll of her own eyes.

Supergirl’s eyes narrow for a moment, a mixture of mirth and a challenge playing across her features. She captures Lena’s wrist in a quick movement, and drops her mouth open, pulling Lena’s finger into her mouth. Lena’s gaze drops and her lips part as she lets go of a shallow breath as the blonde lets go of her finger with a wet pop.

“Make me.”

Lena drops her hand, wrapping Supergirl’s tie tightly in her fist and tugs, sending that stupid smirk crashing against her lips. And Lena doesn’t care that the kiss is uncoordinated (and downright filthy), she pushes and pulls Supergirl across her office, her hands moving in no particular direction; pushing under the blonde’s jacket, tugging at the knot in her tie, and fumbling to unbutton her crisp shirt as Supergirl reaches behind herself, pulling at her sleeves and leaving her jacket deserted somewhere across the room before backing Lena into the edge of her desk. Lena nips and tugs at Supergirl’s bottom lip as strong arms slip under her thighs and hoist her onto her desk. She wraps her legs around the blonde’s waist, locking her ankles, and pulling the hero close. Lena breaks their kiss, leans back for a moment and Supergirl looks absolutely wrecked; kiss swollen lips, tie hanging loosely around her neck, practically every other button open along her shirt. Lena drops her hands to Supergirl’s waist. She follows the line of her belt, until they rest at her buckle, and Lena tugs, a smug smile pulling across her lips.

Supergirl groans, downright guttural and deep as Lena pulls, unbuckling her belt and she surges forward into another kiss that sends Lena off balance. She wraps one hand around the blonde's neck and braces the other against her desk and can feel the cool press of the buckle against the inside of her thigh as Supergirl slips her hand between their bodies, pulling aside her underwear and pressing two fingers against her entrance before trailing up and circling her clit in tight circles.

Lena bucks her hips, scooting closer to the edge of the desk as her fingers dig into Supergirl's neck. And usually when it comes to sex, Lena isn’t above voicing what she wants (she may be a bottom, but there is a power in front of it for a reason) but any coherent thought that could be strung together into words is frozen in the back of her throat and only escaping in a keening moan when Supergirl finally pushes inside of her.

And oh god, this is what she has wanted; to be thoroughly filled and fucked. The desk below her scratches along the floor with each thrust from the blonde, and honestly Lena couldn’t care less if they ended up moving the goddamn thing thirty feet across her office and against the floor to ceiling windows for all of National City to see. All she cares about is the way Supergirl is curling her fingers inside of her and the hot coil tightening low in her stomach. Lena presses her hand hard into the top of her desk, enough to steady herself to raise her hips and to meet each of the blonde’s thrust, causing Supergirl's palm to hit her clit with each messy roll of her hips.

Supergirl breaks their kiss and drops her head to Lena’s shoulder, and god, Lena hopes she is watching each time she pulls out and disappears inside of her. Slick, filthy sounds fill the space around them, and Lena can feel herself fast approaching another orgasm. She drops her head back as Supergirl lifts her own, placing hot, open mouth kisses along her neck.

“Fuck, ” Lena breathes out, her eyes screwing shut, “Don’t stop.”

She can feel Supergirl shake her head, mumbling “Never” against her skin, and that single word feel so intimate and personal and downright pulled from the well of her heart, that it sends Lena over the edge, and she comes hard, clenching tightly around the blonde’s fingers, and letting out a moan that will leave the Saturday evening cleaning crew talking for weeks.

Supergirl raises her head, capturing Lena’s lips in a heated kiss as her ministrations begin to slow. Lips trail down her chin and throat. The blonde nips at her clavicle and pulls out of Lena slowly, bringing her hand up and palming at her breast, leaving a showy, slick line of arousal across the front of her dress as she drops slowly to her knees. Lena leans back on her elbows as Supergirl pushes up her dress to her waist and hooks two fingers into the waistband of her underwear and glances up to Lena as she pulls the fabric at a sinfully slow pace down her thighs, over her knees before stopping. A blonde eyebrow arches and for a moment Lena is genuinely concerned she has forgotten how to breathe until Supergirl places a reassuring kiss on the inside of her thigh and pulls the offending garment free of her legs completely.

The blonde curls her arms around Lena’s thighs and presses her hands down on her hips, securing Lena in place as she places light, teasing kisses along each of her inner thighs. Lena lets go of a breathy chuckle and leans back fully so that she is lying across her desk. She brings her hands up beside her head and grips the smooth edges on each side as the blonde presses her tongue into her for the first time, licking a broad stroke from her entrance to her clit and sucking gently.

The blonde takes her time, alternating between flicks of her tongue, sweeping low and pressing into Lena, before returning to shower her clit in suckling kisses that feel wholly intimate from the heated fervor from earlier. Lena loosens her grip from the desk and reaches down with one hand, running her fingers through blonde hair and lifting her hips as Supergirl flattens her tongue just below her clit and sucks, rocking her head back and forth. And Lena can feel her orgasm building, slow and steady. Creeping up from the soles of her feet and down from the crown of her head until each wave crashes into the other, causing Lena to tremble and arch off her desk, a breathy, keening sound loosening in the back of her throat as she comes.

Supergirl lifts her head and smiles, loosening her arms from around Lena’s thighs and taking one of her hands in her own. She presses a kiss to the inside of Lena’s palm and then wraps her arms around her waist, pulling Lena back up from the desk and pressing a soft kiss against the hollow of her throat, neck and then lips when Lena finally wraps her arms around the blonde’s neck.

They kiss, languid and slow, before Lena can feel the hero reach out blindly and she pulls back, eyeing the blond suspiciously.

“Just lookin’ for ah!.. Here we go.” Supergirl says triumphantly as she retrieves a pen from the mess of Lena’s desk and places it between her teeth and she steps back, tucking her shirt back into her slacks and clasping her belt buckle back in place.

Lena slides off the desk, and tugs on her dress until it falls back down gracefully to her knees. She takes a step forward and helps the blonde tighten her tie as she buttons her shirt, and after a few moments, they both appear halfway presentable as Supergirl pulls the pen from between her teeth and captures Lena’s wrist, raising her hand. She presses another lingering kiss to Lena’s palm.

“Call me,” Supergirl says quietly as she presses the pen into Lena’s palm and writes down a few numbers quickly. She reaches around Lena and drops the pen on the desk and presses a sweet kiss to the corner of her mouth and Lena absolutely does not envision a winter honeymoon in the Swiss Alps, snowflakes clinging to blonde hair as she is carried across the threshold into a cozy, warm cabin.

No, Lena doesn’t think that at all and Sam is absolutely wrong about everything and Lena hates her. So, Lena nods dumbly as she watches Supergirl slip out of the balcony door and take to the sky. She glances down to her hand to the phone number scribbled across her palm, and a little heart near the base of her thumb with a single word underneath it.

Kara.

#kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #they are in here sinning ya'll #and honestly good for them #supercorp fic #my writing

[cuntess-carmilla]

Not that I ENJOY the aura and acute phases of migraines but considering I already have chronic fatigue and chronic pain, getting a migraine in which I skip either of those (especially aura) is some fucking bullshit, more so when the prodrome can last for DAYS and I cannot fucking figure out why I'm this fucking depleted THIS time. At least when I get the visual disturbances of aura and the blatant torture of an acute migraine I can tell it's a fucking migraine.

I'm pretty sure I'd been in prodrome for about a week at least and I only noticed I've been having a migraine because my left eye got all swollen for no apparent reason. Legit that's the ONLY thing that made me think "OH, it's a migraine".

[sickstarlight]

different causes of sickness

a friend had asked me for some advice on how I write differences between different types of sickness or reasons someone could get sick! so I typed up a reference of details I try to keep in mind in my writing. not by any means meant to be comprehensive but these are some of the more common things I see used or use myself!

eta: if you found this interesting or useful consider tipping me on kofi (/jallyns) or getting a $5 commission so I can fix my computer

drinking related:

drank too much: everyone’s threshold for this is going to be different obvs both in terms of how much alcohol they need and how wasted they’re able/willing to be before getting sick. also ime you have to be QUITE drunk for being drunk alone to make you sick, to the point where it may be dangerous, so personally I like this combined with something else - motion, something not sitting right in their stomach, etc - but it can be good otherwise too. probably the first thing the character will notice or be aware of if they have any warning is that being drunk stops feeling good at this point. they might feel flushed and/or clammy and will probably feel dizzy, their mouth might feel really dry depending on what they’ve been drinking. this is probably also the point where they recognize they have limited control of their body, feet might feel too heavy to move or head might be spinning, may feel very clumsy and suddenly become AWARE of it.

they might FEEL motion sick even if they’re not moving too because their motion sense is fucked at this point. might feel heavy but this is likely to be a whole body heaviness NOT just their stomach (though they might be very aware of it); might or might not be able to place the feeling of nausea. maybe burping but it depends on what they’ve been drinking (carbonated or not, mixed with soda, etc) and what else they ate! they MIGHT feel okay after throwing up but their friend probably shouldn’t let them drink anymore even if they do.

also this might come with very little warning, they may go from feeling fine and giggling with their friends to suddenly feeling Wrong to hurling all over the floor in a matter of minutes or even a few seconds. if they have friends with them who have been with them drunk regularly, depending on who’s more sober their friends might notice they look unsteady and/or queasy before they realize they don’t feel well.

other good things here: alcohol that tastes so strong it’s all they can taste when they throw it back up, feeling dizzy but not placing it as nauseous right away, feeling like their head is too heavy to lift. reeling on their feet when a drink hits them too hard and feeling the whole room spin.

drank too quickly - more likely to come on SUPER suddenly, but they’ll probably recognize it right away (unless they’ve already been drinking) because the alcohol hasn’t had time to get to their brain yet. so with gradually drinking more than they should they will get drunk first and THEN get sick, but if they drink too much too fast right off the bat they’ll start to feel some effects probably but they’ll also know pretty quick that their drinks aren’t gonna stay down.

hung over - throwing up from a hangover is a combination of a buildup of alcohol byproducts in the stomach, and the stomach lining being irritated + producing more acid. a headache is also a significant part of the misery of a hangover but (unlike a migraine, where the pain directly leads to vomiting) isn’t necessarily related to any queasiness, so the headache might get worse with sound, light, or movement, but their stomach likely won’t. they might feel a little like they have heartburn (or actually GET some acid reflux) from acid buildup, and their stomach might be sore or feel too warm as well as being upset. 

the only real cure for a hangover is slow sips of clear fluids and bland foods to help settle the stomach and reduce the acid, but lots of people swear by other things - certain kinds of foods, drinking more alcohol, etc, so that’s something you can have fun with! depending on how much alcohol is still in their bloodstream, they might also still feel a little drunk/tipsy and have some issues with their balance, thinking clearly, etc, which could make the nausea worse; also some people might always get sick from hangovers but others might not so consider how your character deals with that! They also might wake up sick, or feel sick right away, or might not feel sick at all until trying to get some fluids or take meds for their headache (especially since ibuprofen/aspirin also irritate the stomach lining).

food related:

ate too much -  character will likely feel bloated and tight, food might feel heavy in their stomach. depending on what they’re stuffed with there might be burping esp if there’s a lot of gas in their stomach, or a lot of gagging and unproductive dry heaving if it’s very heavy/solid. might need to drink something to get anything up, or have help from someone, or might just take a while to finally puke as their overstuffed stomach struggles to break down their meal enough that their stretched out muscles can get anything moving. any firm pressure on the stomach is gonna feel worse and likely to make them gag even if they’re not ready to throw up yet. maybe weak strained tummy noises as they try to digest. (side note if a lot of their stomach contents are liquid like soup, drinks, etc they’ll throw that up a lot faster; also a good excuse to discuss sloshing/jostling/swirling around in their tummy)

ate too quickly - ties in well to eating too much since it’s easy eating in a hurry to not realize you’re full until it’s already a little late - eating or drinking anything too fast can also make some people’s stomachs hurt or get upset in general, and is an easy way to end up swallowing a lot of air which can obviously lead to feeling much more full and tight with lots of burping that could easily bring up more!

ate something bad - this could be rotten, poorly prepared, or just something that upsets their stomach but what it is might change the feeling of it so there’s definitely variety here. probably also feels heavy but more localized, like they can feel the specific food they ate and where it’s settled in their stomach. might also be painful and cause cramping and tenderness. imo nausea from this is more likely to come in waves and recede but might also be more readily recognizable as nausea. some things I like in this scenario - character thinking about what they ate and feeling worse, imagining they can feel individual parts of their food in their stomach, burping and tasting what they ate (possibly noticing the taste having gone sour / etc in their stomach). good place to describe stuff like how greasy smt was/feeling the grease coating their stomach, or otherwise talk about the specific way the food feels in their tummy and how much it makes them want to puke. unlike with eating too much, they’re likely not to feel better until ALL of the offending food is out of their stomach (while with overeating, they may throw up a few times and then start to feel better once there’s less pressure on their stomach).

general notes - if something the character ate is what’s making them feel sick, a lot of focus on hyperawareness of how much food is in their stomach/how heavy it feels are gonna be big sensory things (as well as maybe taste, pressure/tightness, stomach contents moving around)

illness

appendicitis - if you’re looking for something more serious than food poisoning or a stomach bug, this is sure to end up with a character in the hospital as they’ll need surgery! the big distinguishing thing is pain, which will be sharp and located on the lower right side of the abdomen (or may start near the navel and move down). any kind of exertion or sudden muscle movement can make the pain worse. if the character or one of their caretakers is knowledgeable and suspects appendicitis, they might do the rebound test, which causes pain to get drastically worse AFTER placing pressure on the area and releasing it. sickness usually begins after the pain starts and may get worse when something exacerbates the pain as well.

in addition to nausea and vomiting, other symptoms can include fever, bloating, and bowel issues (either diarrhea or constipation), which will usually get worse over the course of the infection. if the character is treated soon enough (within 2-3 days) they’ll usually feel better after surgery and recover relatively quickly, but if they’re not seen by a doctor and the appendix ruptures they’ll likely need more extensive treatment including antibiotics and a longer hospital stay to make sure they won’t develop sepsis. (in some cases, symptoms could seem to suddenly go away when the appendix ruptures because it releases pressure, but worse symptoms would rapidly develop!)

rarely, there’s also such thing as chronic appendicitis, where milder symptoms may appear and recede over the course of weeks or months before developing into acute appendicitis and prompting surgery.

coughs, colds, strep, etc - can all cause vomiting as secondary symptoms thanks to postnasal drip, throat irritation, or forceful coughing. serious enough throat irritation or buildup of mucus can make a character gag, or feel the need to, and so can coughing up phlegm from their chest. if they’re sniffly and have their sinuses draining down the back of their throat, they may end up swallowing a lot of mucus too which can make them feel nauseous as their stomach gets full of sticky snot. I think these work best as emeto scenarios for characters with weak gag reflexes!

food poisoning - separate from eating something bad because food poisoning from a virus or bacteria is a longer lasting illness with a later onset; the character may first get sick within a few hours of eating the contaminated food, or it may incubate and make them sick within a day or two. like stomach flu (also frequently foodborne) many types can cause both vomiting and diarrhea, but symptoms vary depending on specific cause. characters also might puke early on and then develop more symptoms and become sicker later as bacteria multiply and produce toxins, and may take several days to recover from the later onset where they could have persistent nausea, or might feel okay and even regain their appetite if they don’t try to eat  but be unable to keep much or any food down. most types of food poisoning also cause pain, swelling, bloating, and cramping, usually in the lower part of the stomach and upper intestines, so those are other symptoms your character might have to deal with in addition to puking!

stomach flu - character may be feverish or achy as well as nauseous while their body fights the infection, which is an additional great source of hurt/comfort fuel! can cause both vomiting and diarrhea, so even food they manage to keep down might still sting them later. because it directly causes irritation and inflammation in the stomach and lower GI tract, character might throw up frequently or after every meal, or might be able to handle clear fluids but no solids, or some bland foods but nothing with significant sugar, spices, or fat. they also might only be able to drink or eat in very small amounts without bringing it back up. their stomach may hurt and feel like it’s cramping even if they haven’t tried to eat, and they may get only very brief relief of nausea after each time they’re sick because it reduces the immediate pressure on the stomach but not the inflammation; they might feel nauseous constantly or end up dry heaving even when there’s nothing in their stomach, and might need to keep a basin of some kind nearby for a couple of days since they can’t be sure if they’re done. dehydration is a common complication and can cause headaches, weakness, and dizziness in addition to other symptoms! the most common stomach virus, norovirus, is also EXTREMELY contagious, and virus particles can aerosolize and scatter widely during vomiting, so the caretaker may not be safe either.

injury, other medical

anaesthesia - people react to this in all kinds of ways but getting sick is really common so it can be combined with just about any reaction. character might be disoriented or dizzy and have trouble with balance, walking, other coordinated movement. some might be really confused and have trouble communicating their ideas clearly or say things that might not make any sense to other characters. from the anaesthetized character’s perspective though they’re  probably making total sense so it can also be fun to include their muddled thought process and what they’re feeling or thinking that they express in weird ways! other characters might feel pretty clearheaded and be able to communicate clearly though. they might feel “light” or like they're floating, or very  detached from their body; this may cause more dizziness and vertigo. they may also be cold they might feel nauseous right away and persistently from the anaesthetic irritating their stomach, or might only get sick from moving that makes the “floating” feeling worse. general anaesthetic is usually used for surgery so if they aren’t immediately nauseous the character can also wake up really hungry from fasting before, so eating too much or too quickly might also make them realize they’re nauseous and end up with them puking.

concussion - there are a lot of reasons someone might get sick from a concussion, but the most common (non threatening) are vertigo / vestibular disturbance and headaches! the character might  get nauseous or throw up when they turn too quickly or stand up too fast if their balance center is disrupted, or might have head pain similar to a migraine that makes them sick and can have similar sensitivities. mild concussions without other complications can still last up to a week after the injury, but the character should get sick less and less often as time goes on, so the most intense phase for sickness caused by a concussion is shortly after it happens! Frequently repeated or prolonged bouts of vomiting are often signs of more serious injury though, so if you’re keeping it mild they should probably be brief and a little spaced out even early on, though a character might have intermittent nausea between them. other symptoms of concussion are important too here - big ones are short term amnesia, loss of coordination, difficulty concentrating, and confusion. they might also hear ringing in their ears or sometimes have visual disturbances like in migraines! 

migraine - the pain from migraines can directly cause vomiting, especially when it’s at its peak, but it might also be caused by aura effects on balance and vision! (some people get tunnel vision or “kaleidoscope” vision with migraines, some just get dizzy, some people even hallucinate strong smells or tastes which could also lead to nausea!) for some people, the headache gets better after throwing up, but not everyone; they also might or might not feel the buildup of nausea or persistent nausea throughout their migraine, or alternately might retch or throw up almost IMMEDIATELY when any trigger makes their pain worse (common triggers are bright or flashing light, loud or high pitched sounds, strong smells, and sudden movement, but people have lots of different triggers so they can be a lot of things!) many people can’t chase off a migraine until after they’ve slept so you might also include them trying to get comfortable only to have their head start hurting worse or their stomach get upset and make them scramble to get over the trash bin.

motion sickness - anyone can get motion sick but some people are more prone to it than others! so you might have characters who always get motion sick in any moving vehicle, or who are okay in cars but can’t travel on water, or who only get sick with intense movement like on roller coasters - or characters who aren’t prone to motion sickness in general, but discover they get it when fatigued, anxious, etc. different characters might also experience it differently - for some there may be a cycle of gradual buildup of nausea until it becomes unbearable and they throw up, while for others it might come on suddenly, or they might have low level nausea throughout a trip but only puke when there’s a more sudden or violent movement. some people also only get motion sick after a period of time, and might be fine on short trips but get sick if they’re traveling longer.

other notes: many people who get carsick don’t get sick if they’re driving! being able to get fresh air also helps many people, as well as focusing on the horizon if possible. some people prone to motion sickness will also experience the opposite when sitting still but watching movement onscreen like in a video game. likewise, reading or looking at a still object for long while moving can trigger motion sickness, even in people who are less prone to it otherwise.

#sicknario #ish #emeto prompt #emetophilia #sickfic reference #illumivomi #I think that tag is for accounts w no rpf or p*dophilic ships ? #pls feel free to use as reference!

[pumpkinpaix]

this is gonna sound so harsh but im legit tired of chinese diaspora people who think that bc they are of chinese descent and they have pleco they can act like voices of authority in the fandom. if modao is the 1st chinese book you have read pieces of with a dictionary, if you have never interacted with the actual chinese fandom, you are not part of the intended audience and your biased opinion is not the One And Only Valid Truth 🍵

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree | this is really hard for me to express in terms of an agree/disagree axis lol

genuinely cannot tell if you’re trying to shade me here anon lmao 😂

this got long and rambly (of course) asldkjfslj. i would love to make the excuse that it’s bc i’ve got a migraine and had No Sleep but. let’s be real i’m always like this.

ok i’ll start with where i agree: i don’t think anyone has the right to act like an ultimate voice of authority in fandom. i think different people with different backgrounds have varying realms of expertise and they should be respected when they share that knowledge, but that the instant someone starts to use that kind of power as a weapon against people they personally don’t like, i think they forfeit that privilege. no one has the one and only valid truth about a piece of media because that’s fundamentally impossible. i have definitely interacted with diaspo who behave like their heritage gives them some kind of incontrovertible authority over everyone else, and they’re fucking insufferable and often rather cruel, even/especially towards other diaspo. meet me in the denny’s parking lot and fight me for real. i’ll kick ur ass. >:c

however, I also think it’s true that there’s a lot of dismissal of heritage fans in this fandom, if that makes sense, from both sides of the equation: non-Chinese fans ignore our cultural hangups because they’re inconvenient, and non-diaspora disdain us for being not Chinese enough. that puts a lot of us in a position of feeling disrespected just for being who we are, or having our very real knowledge and unique experience as individuals devalued because of it.

regardless of my identity, I have formally studied a lot of things: literary translation, media analysis, the politics of oppression, film critique, religious studies, philosophy, four foreign languages etc. and that is all knowledge that I had to work for, and work hard for. I do have a certain measure of authority on all of these subjects over a layperson (to varying degrees), and there are going to be times when i will be more correct than someone who disagrees with me -- but I’ve also absolutely experienced people talking over that specialized knowledge because of who I am, which is, to be clear. extremely infuriating and hurtful. like, i have cried so much about it in the last 18 months. people see my racial and cultural identity before they see anything else, which is understandable to a degree, but upsetting when it becomes the basis for how my work is judged, whether positive or negative. i don’t want you to trust me blindly because i’m abc. I want to you to trust me because you have examined my work critically and judged it to be trustworthy!

so i guess this is getting into the strongly disagree part of the answer: i’ve been speaking a lot with other diaspora fans lately, and it’s been simultaneously hugely relieving and also really saddening. relieving because oh thank god someone else Gets It, and saddening because pretty much all of us, no matter what kind of diaspo we are (north american, european, SEA, taiwanese etc), we’ve all experienced a lot of pressure in this fandom, from non-Chinese, Chinese, and other diaspora fans alike. we’re all acutely aware that we are not modao’s intended audience because being diaspora vs being “from the mainland” or whatever, are actually quite different things, but modao still feels close to home. even if it was not written FOR us it is still familiar to us.

and, because so many of us are multilingual and multicultural, we end up being the bridge between the “actual” chinese fandom and the english-speaking fandom, which is largely made up of non-chinese. (sidenote: I hate it when people say things about being “actually” any identity because it’s almost always for the exact reason you brought up: to use heritage as street cred. it’s like damn, being “actually” chinese doesn’t make ur opinions any less rank. sure you might be “actually” chinese, but do you have basic reading comprehension and literary criticism skills? no? ok then sit your ass back down) many of us are most comfortable in english! so we produce our content in english! but we also DO often have a somewhat privileged access to the culture that underlies mdzs and can explain it in a language that other non-Chinese fans can understand. so it’s not surprising that people flock to us for answers to their cultural questions. and like. if we think we know the answer, it’s natural for us to try and help. this is fandom! we’re here to have fun and find community! and it is definitely a little bit nice to have my culture treated as something desirable for once instead of just like. a weird exotic curiosity that no one really cares too deeply about. and, since a lot of us are able to do things that non-Chinese fans can’t (research in chinese, for example. ask family members for help and more information etc.) we end up just having more information to share.

I think this sometimes results in a tendency for fandom at large to put heritage/diaspo fans on pedestals and tout them as authorities (or use our conflicting viewpoints as ammunition in fandom drama) when the diaspo in question have repeatedly stated that they should not be taken as authorities on something -- and then, once you reach critical mass, your reputation starts to precede you, and I think there’s a lot of misconceptions of how a lot of diaspo act in this fandom simply because of that phenomenon. most of us know that we’re not ultimate arbiters of some kind of cultural gateway, and it can be very tiring both to be treated as such when we insist we are not, and then punished by other people who assume that we acted like we were.

i don’t think there’s a benefit in trying to keep en fandom and cn fandom totally separate, and I also think it’s unfair to consider the cn fandom the “real” fandom. i think that way lies deeper misunderstandings, gatekeeping, etc. i think we can definitely acknowledge the differences between them, but i think trying to make meaningful connections between fandom circles is really valuable! i don’t think i’ve ever made it a secret that modao is my first cmedia fandom? so it’s also the first time i’ve had reason to interact with chinese fandom, which has been super enlightening and interesting! i’ve made some super cool friends and learned a lot about how fandom works in china, how it’s similar and how it differs from the fandom i’m familiar with.

and then, kind of circling back around, there’s also a bit of a sense like, okay, so if diaspo don’t belong in the CN fandom, but we can’t talk about our own culture with some degree of confidence in EN fandom, then like..... where do we go...? if we see EN fandom doing something that contradicts our cultural knowledge, do we just. not say anything? do we not count unless we’ve already ingratiated ourselves to CN fandom? that’s probably where the core of my strong disagreement comes from, because criticism of diaspora fans as like, acting above their station so to speak, feels just like a tired continuation of the same shit we’ve had to deal with for our whole lives, being told we’re not good enough for anywhere and that we should just be quiet and keep our heads down and get over it. that our opinions, despite coming from a unique perspective with a unique relationship to the subject in question, are less valid or real than “actual” chinese people, you know? and sometimes i see that and im like lmfao just sneer at me for being jook-sing and leave then if you’re so eager to think of me as lesser.

so yeah, basically im of a few minds: true! diaspora fans don’t get to throw their weight around just because they’re diaspo. they don’t get carte blanche to act like bullies or try to shape the fandom to their own personal liking and crusade against people who disagree with them. they don’t get to pretend their heritage makes them superior to everyone else, and i think western diaspora especially need to be careful when asserting any kind of moral lens over the text to acknowledge that we have our own biases to interrogate. i am not immune.meme etc. on the other hand, this vein of criticism tends to put all diaspo in a bit of a double-bind, and also, however unintentionally, plays into the general, continuous trend of dismissing diaspora for being diaspora, and i’m really not about that. i don’t think that’s the motivation behind opinions like this, but i do think that when the basis for the argument hinges on the idea that diaspora are not “real” chinese, no matter how much I too have beef with certain diaspora fans, the argument needs to be revisited. 

(ko-fi)

🍵 ((un)popular) opinions meme

#Anonymous #asks and replies #cyan gets too deep in the weeds #race #chinese diaspora #statistically average #mine #mymeta #mdzs #ummmmm #politics #?? #opinions meme #ask meme

[wordsforrain]

So there are a few transcutaneous cranial nerve stimulation devices that have been FDA approved to treat migraines either preventatively, acutely, or both, but only one of them is available non-prescription, “over the counter.” And it’s $379.

When I first saw that I laughed and was like fuck no, I’m not paying that much for something that might not even help, I can wait to get an Rx from my doctor. Like I’m not even sure what I’m dealing with is migraines, I’m just pretty sure my trigeminal nerve is permanently both on fire and on strike.

But I have since learned that insurance only likes to pay to cover things like nerve stimulators or botox after you’ve “failed” to respond to two or more oral routes first—either the drugs didn’t work or the side effects were intolerable. And I haven’t been on my current newest med for long enough to have failed it yet.

But I swear to god I want to stick an ice pick into each ear and give myself a lobotomy, that’s how bad it is tonight, and I guess what I’m saying is $379 is still expensive but I get it now, I get why people would pay that, and I get why people get suckered into buying all kinds of snake oil, and chronic health issues blow, and our health care system is messed up. Ugh.

[orangeflavoryawp]

For readers of ‘From Instep to Heel’

I would like to preface this post with letting you all know that I am okay.  That being said, I did have to go to the ER three days ago.  I don’t think many of you know that I suffer from migraines, and while I’ve managed to live with them since I was first diagnosed, it’s been almost eight years since I’ve had one so severe that it sent me to the hospital.

With one of this severity, aside from excruciating pain, I usually get vomiting to the point of acute dehydration, dizziness and chills, blackouts, shaking and muscle spasms, inability to speak or string full sentences together, the whole shibang.  My coworkers took me to the ER, and I was put on morphine, reglan for vomiting, and a fluid drip, and then sent home when I could walk and speak again and the pain wasn’t ‘blackout’ levels.  There’s no cure for migraines, and no determined cause either.  The best I can do is manage the pain when it happens.  It can last up to 3 days (just like this one did), so I’ve taken a few days off from work and have just been medicating and sleeping.  Today was the first day I could look at a computer or phone screen for more than a few seconds, so here we are.

All this to say, I will be taking it easy the next few weeks.  I love writing this story and always have.  It’s never been a chore for me, but it is still an exhausting experience, because I try to put so much emotion into my work.  I can’t exactly take more time off work at the moment, so I need to make sure I’m giving myself a break in other aspects of life.  And after all, I still don’t know what triggered this particularly nasty migraine, but I’ve noticed my migraines have been more frequent these last few months, and even though my CT scan and bloodwork came back fine, the doctor did say the increase could very well be from stress or abnormal living/work factors, which, I think we can all agree, has been everyone’s normal 2020 at this point, lol.  Perhaps my body is finally catching up with all the stress I’ve brushed aside to stay afloat.  I don’t know.  Either way, health comes first.

But I would also like to assure you that I’ve an end in sight for this story already.  I will be posting one more chapter very shortly, because it’s practically done, and then I think I’m going to take more time for the last three (just my guessitmate here, don’t hard quote me on that number).  I was originally going to put more in this next chapter, but this one scene turned out to be exceptionally long and demanded it’s own chapter.  It felt right though, because Jon and Sansa have a lot to get through and say to each other, and I figured this would be like a breather for you all before we get into the finale, which will likely be back to back action and angst, so I think it best that I have as much of the last three chapters already written before posting, so that you guys aren’t waiting long between them.  So yeah, I’m saving you later by making you wait now, haha.  But I hope this next chapter lets you catch your breath.  It’s the jumping off point for Jon and Sansa facing their adversities together, as one, the culmination of all that’s brought them to this point, so I think it’ll be a good place to put a short hold before the remainder of the story.

And if it means anything, there is definitely some filthy fucking happening in this next chapter, lol.  I would not leave you all without.  ;)

If you’ve made it through this essay of a post, I thank you, haha.  And please, don’t stop coming into my inbox with your thoughts or questions about ‘From Instep to Heel’.  They make me so inarticulately happy, I honestly don’t even have the words to express it.  Knowing you’re looking forward to the next installment is probably what’s going to keep me afloat during this slow down.  Love you all to pieces.  This community has been nothing but amazing to me.  <3  

#from instep to heel #jonsa #jonsa fic #jon snow #sansa stark #my writing #got fanfic

[fireblight]

oh, thank god! you saved my bacon, pal. where we going? is this a jailbreak?

❝Keep your voice down!❞ she barks a whisper, ❝I don't have much time to figure this out.❞ She was going to regret this, wasn't she? This was going to be the most stupid thing she's ever done. ❝I need to focus, so sh.❞ Her handsーby now intimately accustomed to the various knobs, dials and buttons of Suigetsu's cell system ( and where certain tasks had been beyond her responsibility, she had acutely observed, committing each gesture, each twitch, to memory )ーmake quick work of his bindings.

Right before she can hit the big finale, releasing him completely, she lets her eyes fall shut. Reaching, searching, watching. Beyond the throngs of tortured chakraーshe keeps note of their movements, repetitive and circular when not static ( these, she files as fellow prisonersーnot a threat, much, if she avoids the open-faced cells )ーthere are a few bright silhouettes that are rather... daunting. Some were familiar; others in her position, superiors too. Methodically, she attaches faces to the chakra forms, recollecting traits, behaviours, apparent loyalties. The latter wasn't much to worry about; here, it wasn't so much about swearing fealty to Orochimaru as there was the opportunity for a leg up. Besides, the most fraught in their devotion were the ones locked up, nothing more than cattle. Even then, they weren't reliable as potential alliesー most would cause a fuss just for the sake of some entertainment, for a spark of excitement amidst the drudgery of drugs and tests.

It takes only a few seconds, this analysis: to Suigetsu, it might appear as if she's doing nothing more than trying to focus, think clearly, without visual distractions, or ward off a migraine. When she opens her eyes, her face is set, jaw tight and certain, making her look older than she is. More in control than she is. Truthfully, she feels fucked. Unbelievably fucked. But she was in too deep nowー certainly, Suigetsu wouldn't be too fond of her dangling freedom above her, and she couldn't risk him grassing her in next time Orochimaru or Kabuto came slithering by to check on him.

Because, of course, Orochimaru and Kabuto are outー travelling for at least a week. She'd waited a day, two days, enough to get a decent distance. A feeble head start. It had seemed... smart, in the moment, when she thought about it. Almost plausible, almost achievable. Nowー though she has their escape route mapped out, aware of all the moving piecesー it feels... decidedly less so. Frankly, she's starting to think this is the stupidest thing she's ever done, and she drank paint, once, thinking it was a smoothie.

She takes a steadying breath and hits the button. No going back now. With a hiss, a torrent of chemical-infused water floods the laboratoryー she is quick to leap onto a solid surface, avoiding any loose spark that might have turned them treacherousー and he's out. Frozen, she waits for any blare of an alarm. Negative. Whether from hubris or budget, she didn't knowー she just appreciated the good fortune.

It wouldn't be long until someone noticed something was amiss. Already the most immediate chakras were halting in their trapped circles, moving from their beds with intrigue. Eventuallyー maybe even very soonー someone was going to notice the water seeping from underneath the door, and Karin didn't want to be here for the resulting riot.

❝We don't have much time before someone notices,❞ she says, tossing him a loose-fitting set of prisoner's garb she'd snatched and stuffed into her pack, ❝try to get dressed on the way. Andー❞ here, she makes sure to meet his eyes, ❝ーdo exactly what I say if you're at all interested in getting out of here alive. So keep the jokes to a minimum.❞

#tankwater #OTO JAILBREAK AU!!! OTO JAILBREAK AU!!!! #« inbox : a ghost in the throat »

[magpiefngrl]

The untamed cast being a part of the harry potter universe: what if they were another school visiting in 4th year. Everyone is from Fenghuang School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Although 4th year would be a great time for a crossover, the problem is that the 4 characters are early/in the middle of their development and so they aren't the characters we know by the end of their story. Draco is a bigoted little shit, wwx is insufferable, lwj is repressed and Harry has Voldemort to content with.

However if we go down the comedy route and ignore the Death Eater stuff, then it can be a lot of fun.

To begin with, Draco despises WWX. He’s had to suffer Potter attracting all attention in school since day one, stealing Draco’s thunder, and as if that wasn’t enough, now comes yet another boy who draws all eyes to him? A prodigy but also cheeky, breaks the rules and is kind to everyone, flirty and fun to be around and, on top of all that, fucking gorgeous? This is not a good year for Draco, his hormones are all over the place and he longs to express them the way he likes best: a spot of bullying. He’d dearly love to teach WWX a lesson (the boy is a servant’s kid after all), remind him who runs this school (Draco likes to pretend it’s him), but he senses the Lan kid would beat him to a pulp if he so much as touched a hair on WWX’s head. If nothing else, Draco’s sense of self-preservation is acute, so he stays away and seethes impotently while making badges. The ones labelled: You’re Not All That Cool, Wei Wuxian don’t really do very well, no one wants them, bc everyone thinks WWX is very cool.

Except for the Professors. McGonagall has quite a few migraines, those days.

WWX makes friends with the Weasley twins, because they are him but ginger, British and double. Brilliant minds think alike etc etc, so the Weasley twins show the one braincell trio (WWX, JC, NHS) the secret ways out of school and how to annoy Filch, and WWX helps them with their inventions and together they figure out the best ways to skive off. They’re constantly together and having a ton of fun, except when LWJ ruins it, who tries to stop WWX from getting into trouble, losing face for their school or causing diplomatic incidents.

Half the school is in love with LWJ and the other half is terrified of him. More than WWX, LWJ is a Quidditch god. That’s bad news for Ron’s crush on Krum; it sputters out when he sees LWJ on a broom and he’s particularly tongue-tied around him. Gradually, he gets better at it, because Harry befriends LWJ and brings him around. Out of the four, I think in school Harry and LWJ could become friends. Although Harry has broken rules in the past, 1. LWJ hasn’t been there for that, and 2. he doesn’t constantly skive off lessons the way WWX does to go hunt in the forest or neglects his homework. LWJ appreciates Hermione’s study ethic, and they spend many a happy hour doing homework together. Lan Zhan would be a solace to Harry most of all; he’s a steadfast friend and he would stand by Harry when all the school thinks he cheated to get in the tournament and hates him for it.

Hermione becomes best friends with MianMian, who’s feisty and speaks her mind. They correspond after MianMian goes back home, and they’re still in touch decades later, arranging to meet and introduce their daughters to each other in the hopes they, too, will become pals.

Who is the Chinese school champion? I know WWX is our main character, but I have a feeling the Goblet of Fire would choose LWJ. What do people think? I have a feeling that if LWJ was the champion, Harry and Cedric would never make it to the trophy first. Pettigrew would come out on that graveyard and pause, confused as to why Potter wasn’t there, LWJ would take advantage of the confusion to disarm him and call for help, and the books would end there lol

There are so many ways this could go -- I’m sure others have different ideas. What if the HP characters were to visit Cloud Recesses for the lectures? That’d be another fun scenario to imagine.

Thanks for the ask x

#crossover #drarry #wangxian #inbox

[threeletterslife]

02 | Over the Moon

→ previous | next

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, scarification, mention of black market, drinking

→ wordcount: 8.1k

You wake up feeling sticky, sweaty, uncomfortable and fucking miserable.

You've never had a proper hangover before, but honestly, you can safely and surely say that this was the first and worst hangover you've ever had. Hopefully the last.

It almost becomes hard to remember the short events that had happened after you'd drunken that clear, devilish liquid, but you force yourself to salvage a few bits and parts. Not that it matters anyways. The conversations at the dinner table last night had been shallow, small talk at best. Rather uncomfortable small talk as well.

Something about the six men was not right.

You shake your head, coughing to get rid of your dry, scratchy throat. A glass of water had been left by Jimin's bed, on the nightstand. You thankfully gulp it down, hoping it washes down the rest of whatever's left of that stupid drink out of your system.

Slowly, you rise out of bed, dragging your feet to catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It shocks you—though it really shouldn't have—that you look like a trainwreck. You're wearing what you wore yesterday, but the clothes are wrinkled, wet from your sweat and (you're not gonna lie) kinda stinky. Your hair looks like a bird's nest and your eyebags are dragging your whole face down.

No surprise, but I look like shit.

You also make the acute observation that you feel like shit as well. The headache you have right now is the worst you've had in your whole life, and that's including the headaches you've harbored during finals in university. Not to mention, you're kind of hungry.

Maybe if you walk around the maze-like hallways enough, you'll come across the kitchen. It'll be like a little morning journey. But when you glance at the clock, you realize it's actually much closer to noon than morning. And by the time you find the kitchen, it might even be time for dinner.

So, quickly, you brush your hair, change out of your clothes into the new ones that had magically been placed in the marble closet and exit your room. Only when you step outside and close the door do the memories come crashing down on you.

Jimin's dead. Murdered. Nonexistent. The only member of family you had left in America, obliterated. This is a mafia house. And you're only here to make a decision, which you still haven't even come to a close to.

All of these six men (your ex-friends) could be murderers—dangerous, brooding people who you want nothing to do with. But you have no choice to be by their side or you'll be killed too. Even worse. Those people had been your closest friends. And now you can barely recognize them. It's like their human soul had melted away, replaced by some robotic heart instead. You can't quite trust them, but they're the only ones you have to trust.

You're in a mess. You can't deny that.

Helplessly, you slide down to the ground, crouching to hug yourself.Fuck. You're twenty-three and should be able to take care of yourself, but right now, you feel like you can't do anything. You're the stupid mouse stuck in an elaborate trap. It's an epiphany for too early.

You find yourself sobbing quietly, cradling your head in your arms as you empty out your chaotic feelings in tears. It must've been minutes, and you've quieted down—hiccupping and sniffling occasionally but at least with steady breaths.

It's okay.You tell yourself.You'll be okay. They're not bad people, your ex-friends. They would definitely keep you safe no matter what, especially if Jimin stressed it so much in his will. Jimin's dead and I can't change that. I'll hurt myself more if I don't accept it. I need to do what's right for me now.

You take a final deep breath before you struggle to stand up. But just as you're about to walk away like you didn't have a mental breakdown right then and there, you hear... crying?And that's definitely not you.

The sound's coming from another door right across yours. Curious and still hazy from the hangover, you tiptoe over. Pressing your ear against the door, you frown. That was clearly some heavy, depressing sobbing. The same sobbing you'd heard a lot of times growing up.

You knock on the door.

Instantly, the crying stops. Jungkook swings the door open with such force, you almost fall into the room. Looking up at him, you see that he looks perfectly fine, and if he had been crying, you could barely tell. He looks down at you with such a stoic face, you almost feel a bit intimidated.

"Hey, you okay?" you ask, trying not to sound so broken despite your internal struggles.

Your heart drops when he frowns. "Why wouldn't I be?" He searches your face, watches as you blink your slightly wet eyes, notices your sniffling nose. "Are you okay?"

"Well... I mean, not really..." You brush it off. "But uh, I heard you cry, Jungkook."

If he wasn't slightly agitated before, he was now; actually, he seemed more pissed off as if you were the thick-headed one. "That wasn't me," he grunts.

"But—"

Then you get the door slammed in your face.

You huff, whirling around too quickly before steadying yourself. "Fucking migraine," you mumble, taking more deep breaths.

'That wasn't me' my ass, you think. Only Jungkook cries like that. He'd cried like that when he didn't make the varsity tennis team in high school. When his stray cat had been run over by an evil vehicle. When he got the news that his mother passed away in Korea. And he'd always let you comfort him when he was feeling down. Now apparently he thinks he's too good for your affirmations.

You huff again.Whatever. To forget about that rude encounter, you decide to go on an exciting journey to the kitchen. Minding your dizziness, you saunter off, taking random turns around the halls. It takes a while, but you finally find yourself in the kitchen.

Once again, the interior designs take your breath away. So does the smell.Someone must've been cooking.

When you stop admiring the surroundings, you notice that Seokjin's sitting at the kitchen island. In front of him are steaming plates of what looks like the best hangover breakfast-er, lunch anyone can ask for—Korean style.

"Sleep well?" He breaks the silence. "Oh, and uh," he points to the dishes of food, "I wasn't sure if you still preferred Korean cuisine over American... But I went with your roots."

You nod slowly. "Thank you. I slept as well as anyone does when they drank too much alcohol... or found out their brother was dead," you say, shrugging. "You're not eating?"

"I already ate. We all did. We didn't want to wake you up. Sorry about the Everclear," Seokjin apologizes genuinely. "Usually it takes thirty minutes for it to knock us out, so we thought we'd have more time to get you in bed. The hangover must be horrible."

"It's okay," you say though you still feel weary. "Everything else feels worse. I think the hangover just enhances it."

With that, you begin to eat. The food is actually incredibly delicious, making you miss your mom's cooking back in Korea. You give your compliments to Seokjin, who gladly takes them with open arms. You eat in silence, nodding or shaking your head as Seokjin asks respectful questions. After the friendly one-sided talk, you express your gratitude for the lunch to Jin (he had been waiting for you in the kitchen, after all) and you begin to walk to your room (which you had asked Jin for directions).

You're feeling much better than you were when you woke up, but yesterday's events still loom over your head.

You nearly collapse on the plush bed when you enter your room. But when your head hits the pillow, it also hits something hard. "Ow," you mutter, frowning. Was this there before?You guess you hadn't noticed it when you were passed out drunk. But now...?

Reaching under the pillow, your hand touches a leather binding. You pull the object out to inspect it, only to see a journal of some sort. The black leather is soft and weathered, and the journal pages look very much used. If this journal was a private diary, it didn't seem like it because it wielded no lock.

You look around your empty room in suspicion. Just in case someone were to pop out of nowhere and see you clutching this mysterious journal.

The very first page is one of those parts in any diary that states who the diary belongs to. And your heart nearly sinks to your stomach when you see the neat handwriting scrawled across the page.

This notebook belongs to Park Jimin, it says. Your eyes tear up just thinking about his name, and your fingers caress the thin pages of paper. It's the notebook that your brother had used to write down his thoughts, his memories...

God. I can't continue on.

You slam the diary, journal or notebook—whatever it really is—shut, hugging it to your chest as you sink back into the bed. You really can't do that to yourself now. There's too much to think about already.

You'll read it when the time comes. When you feel ready—emotionally stable enough—to read the thoughts of your dead brother. For now, you'll have to wait. Wait until you feel less miserable, less confused, more put together. But you don't think you can ever be truly happy again without your brother.

It hurts even more that you had never gotten a chance to say a proper goodbye. And maybe that leather-bound notebook will give you answers? You don't know.

You feel tired already, though it's nowhere near nighttime. So you cry yourself to sleep, keeping the journal in your arms. Just keeping it by your side makes you feel like he's with you, and that you're not completely alone, after all.

Spending one whole week in a mafia home doesn't reveal anything, you've found. Jimin's six friends live a quite pretentious life, but it's nothing that's completely abnormal. There is no gun violence, no drug trading, no black market... well, that you know of. And you've been keeping an eagle eye on all of their whereabouts. So either you were stupidly oblivious or they were just good at hiding things.

For seven days you lived routinely. You can't afford to take another surprise after the surprise that was your brother's murder. In fact, the pain's reduced to an uncomfortable, numb feeling at the pit of your stomach that never goes away. Still, you're not weak. You plow through the minor pain, the emotional turmoil because that's what Jimin would've done.

You pretend you're okay in front of the others. It's probably the worst thing to do to show your vulnerability to gang members, anyway. And speaking of the gang members... it's strange. In one way, they seem so different from the people you were best friends with in your childhood. But in another... they're also completely the same.

Seokjin had always been a rather quiet leader—whether he liked it or not, people were inclined to follow him. Back then, he would always be team captain in junior high sports games or the orchestrater in any group project. But now... you had a huge suspect he was the so-called 'boss' of this gang. He was always a warm figure in your past. Comforting, caring, compassionate. He seems to be all these things now too. Yet somehow... he's also so cold. He smiles and it stretches his lips, makes his eyes sparkle, but something in you tells you it's not as genuine as you would like it to be.

Then there's Namjoon. He's actually the first friend Jimin made in America, thus the first friend you made in America as well. He was always so dedicated to research, born with this innate intelligence that made him literally unmatched in junior high and high school academics. No one could beat him in the math club or debate club... or Science Olympiad. He was the logic of the group as you remember, a role that matured on him quickly. One time you walked in on him in eighth grade playing chess by himself—to beat himself. But aside from his naturally pedantic self, Joon was more compassionate than he let on.Joon. The nickname Jimin had used to call him. It's a name that doesn't fit him now. Not when his presence in any room brings chills to your skin. Or maybe you're imagining it?

Yoongi doesn't seem like he's changed much, but only because you never really got to know him. The only memories you have of him are Yoongi sitting quietly in the corner, watching the seven of you bicker. It amused him to be observing hilarious banter—banter that he never took part in. He was naturally a bit shy and indifferent, but you know he really cares when he worries about you. He'd be the first to hand anyone a box of chocolates or a store-bought lollipop if they felt down. Yoongi had been the first to approach Jungkook after he had gotten news that his mother had died. Now? You can't tell if he's changed much. Other than the fact that his stoic face looks more tired than you remembered it years ago.

Hoseok is a different story. It's like he's changed the most out of everyone. You always knew he had firm opinions, but he never bothered to voice them as a kid. Unable to understand the language of sarcasm, he had always been teased by you and the other boys in the early years. Now, it seems like if anyone teased him of anything he'd snap and yell. And boy, he looks fucking scary when he's angry or even serious. These days, it looks as if he has absolutely no trouble at all voicing his thoughts. And sometimes, his sharp tongue gets him in trouble during 'family time' meals.

Taehyung was always kind of loud, sassy and outgoing, and he still is. Except you think he now has some infatuation with females. It's easy for him to start talking about all the hot ones he saw while working his shift in the restaurant. Though the talk makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, it's still a nice break from the other men who are so damn serious. It's weird that sometimes, you find yourself searching for Taehyung's company these days. You, of all people, searching for someone else? Unheard of. Until now.

Ah, Jungkook. He's the boy you remember as the most empathetic person you've ever met. When you were thirteen and fell off your bike after Taehyung told you he'd do your math homework if you rode your bicycle with your eyes closed, Jungkook cried with you. Like hell, you'd taken quite a fall, and that bloody cut was fucking painful—you still remember. And it was like Jungkook felt your pain. He feels everyone's pain. It's only sad because you think he's trying to repress his empathy these days. You recall when he had slammed the door in your face because you had rightfully accused him of crying over Jimin's death. He used to wear his heart on his sleeve, but now he's trying to be stoic. And maybe for a good reason.

You just wonder what Jimin's like. If he had changed as drastically as Hoseok or as little as Yoongi. Maybe like everyone else he got a little bit colder? More merciless? The thought chills you, though you're ready to know.

Making yourself comfortable in your bed, you pull out Jimin's black notebook. It feels heavy in your hands. You take a deep breath, then open it to the second page, where the first entry is.

Immediately, you recognize the handwriting, and you find yourself fighting the urge to tear up again. The date of this entry is the year he had dropped out of college and disappeared. You steady your breaths, and finally, begin to read the neat writing.

I can’t believe I’m in the mafia. I mean, I’ve thought about it for years, wondered what it would be like... if I’d even feel a difference. But I don’t. I feel the same. But this blood that courses through my veins... It doesn’t belong to me anymore. It belongs to us all. The Crescents. Beautiful name, isn’t it? Joon and I came up with it years ago and decided it was finally time to put it to use. It’s my dream come true, actually. Being in the mafia with the people I would die for. I’m ready for anything with these six people by my side. 

You stop. There's a certain eagerness in Jimin's voice that hurts when you come across it. Warmth blossoms in your heart when you see how much love and trust he puts in his friends. It's Jimin's voice, alright. The passion, determination, love is all there.

The entry is rather long, but you just can't bring yourself to read the rest. Not when it brings back so many memories... No, I'll go reverse chronological order. Maybe in the later entries, Jimin will sound less recognizable; it won't make you as sad to read it. You'll come back to this first entry later. But definitely not now.

You breathe out a breath you hadn't even known you'd held. And the emotion you feel next is something you didn't expect.Anger.

What kind of fucktard in their right mind would kill someone like him? Someone innocent, kind, passionate, diligent? Someone who had such big dreams coupled with a heart bigger than anyone else's?? Jimin's eyes were always shining with curiosity or determination. What would it feel like to be the person who rid him of that sparkle?

Your blood boils just thinking about it. Twenty-four is too young to fucking die. Your head hurts as you close the diary shut.

Now it's in your best interest to stay... to join.You want revenge on the bitch that killed your brother, and you can't do that all by yourself. Seokjin was offering you help for vengeance. And a week later, you realize that you need just that.

You feel so much better finally making the executive decision. It's like the massive weight on your shoulders had been lifted, magically.

When dinner time comes, you parade into the dining room, feeling confident (which was probably fueled by your anger). "I want to join you."

Taehyung gives you a funny look. "Sure? The wine's here if you want a drink."

You shake your head, frustrated. "No, I want to join... I want to be a part of your gang."

Everyone except Seokjin raises an eyebrow.

"And that's... not an impulse decision?" Namjoon asks, sipping his wine.

"It's... Yeah, it's not an impulse decision."

Seokjin nods, thoughtfully. "Great, Y/N." Everyone watches as he carefully thinks of his next words. "You may sit and eat, now."

What?

You'd spent a week deciding, and that was his reaction? You still don't know anything about this gang (which is a huge risk on your part), and you decided to join. And that's how he's going to react?

You watch everyone else's faces, but they're as unreadable as ever. Frustration ensues as the rest of dinner goes on as if the declaration of your decision had not happened. Feeling a little neglected and pissed off, you poke at your sushi the whole time.

Only when Jungkook and Taehyung start taking the dishes away does Seokjin mysteriously show up by your side. "Follow me, Y/N."

"Just me?" you whisper, though you don't know why.

Jin nods, helping you stand up as he swiftly guides you away from the dining hall. He leads you, hand on your back, to the enormous patio in the backyard. It's not chilly out, thanks to the California weather, but you shiver at the weight of Jin's gaze on you.

It's silent for a while as both of you collect your thoughts. Then Seokjin speaks. "I just wanted to make sure you know the commitments of being involved in us."

"Well, I wouldn't know because it was never specified," you say a bit crossly. "I'm blindly joining, you know? For the sake of Jimin. I'm getting my revenge."

"Ah, my apologies," Jin says. "You'll be informed of your exact commitments later, but what comes first is your oath. We're a family around here as you know..."

You let out an embarrassing gasp when he tugs his t-shirt down so suddenly. Jin chuckles at your reaction before guiding your eyes to the mark... burned on his collarbone.

"Well, that's not a normal tattoo."

Jin laughs quietly. "It's our gang symbol. A crescent-shaped scar that ties us all together. We're called the Crescents."

But you knew that already.

"Oh," you breathe. The scar looks delicate, not larger than a thumb for that matter. But it holds heavy meaning and you tremble slightly as you stare at it in awe. "Does... Does everyone have that?"

"In different places, of course," Jin nods before straightening his shirt, hiding his mark from view.

Your voice shakes as you ask, "Where's Jimin's?"

"I knew you'd ask that," Jin smiles. "It was on the back of his neck. And before you ask why, it was so we would always be watching his back for him... Granted, we... w-we failed." You hear a slight tremble in Jin's voice. "The biggest regret of my life."

You suck in a breath, contemplating whether you should pat his shoulder to comfort him or not. The usually stoic and guarded Seokjin was showing emotion, a rather rare sight. But it's gone as fast as it came.

"Anyways," Jin says, clearing his throat. "We'll have your ceremony soon. Don't worry," he smiles, one foot already inside the house, "the scarification doesn't hurt that much." With that, he walks away, leaving you outside in the night, alone, curious and mystified.

Am I making a mistake?

When Seokjin had told you with his soft-spoken voice that the ceremony would be 'soon,' you'd expected it to be in a few days, or even in a week, tops. You did not expect it to be the very next day.

In fact, you were totally taken by surprise when Jungkook had woken you up quite nicely and told you to get ready for the ceremony. He'd left the room while you changed and freshened up, but you took so long getting ready, he almost opened up the door to check on you. But what can you say? You were stalling for a reason.

Partly, you were afraid of the physical pain. You had tried to ask Jungkook how much scarification actually hurt, but he'd told you not to worry about it.Bullshit answer. But another, deeper part of you feared what the scarification would symbolize... This was it, right? You were going to leave your past life and enter the mafia world. The world that killed your brother.

And you weren't going to leave until you got your revenge.

"Y/N?" Jungkook calls, shaking you from your thoughts. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," you call back, running a hand through your hair. You're terrified, but you won't be able to show it.

Jungkook peeks his head into your room, giving you a reassuring smile. "Ready?"

You nod. "Mhm."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, really," he tells you as he opens your door a bit wider. From behind him, you can see Taehyung grinning right at you.

"If this big baby can do it," Taehyung snorts, pointing at Jungkook, "then so can you."

Jungkook gives Taehyung a disdainful look, which sends Taehyung into a fit of laughter. You appreciate that they're trying to alleviate the obvious tension on your shoulders, but unfortunately, you're not sure if you'll ever feel relaxed again.

"C'mon, Y/N. They're waiting for us," Tae announces, bowing dramatically before jutting out his hand for you to take. You hesitate for the slightest second before you take it.

From there, Jungkook and Taehyung guide you around the winding halls of the mansion. By now, you would've thought you'd get used to the size to some degree, but the home is apparently way larger than you thought. Past at least twenty doors and fourteen thousand medieval portraits later, you were standing in a large basement.

The room glowed a warm, amber color, but you didn't feel warm at all. When you catch sight of the wall with all sorts of sharp metal welding sticks, you take a terrified step back, accidentally bumping into Jungkook. He places a reassuring hand on your back, but it does little to calm your nerves.

"Relax, Y/N," Seokjin says. Your head snaps up to look at the man who had spoken, and your face is stoic but your eyes hold terror. It's then when you realize everyone else is in the room.

Of course. It's a ceremony. Can't have a goddamn ceremony without other people.

"Here, Y/N. You can sit here," Jin says as he gestures to a comfy-looking seat that was placed in the middle of the room. "It'll hurt less than getting an actual tattoo."

"But I've never gotten an actual tattoo before..." you mumble as you cautiously take your seat. Even though the cushion is plush, you still sit rigidly.

"Don't worry. It'll be fine. High pain tolerance?" Yoongi asks.

"Uh... I dunno," you answer truthfully. "Not really."

"You'll be fine," Hoseok sighs. "It's only strike branding, so the heat will be gone as soon as it came. It'll take anywhere from half a year to a year for it to heal completely, though. Anyway, the feeling's enough to make you regret it, but it'll be over in a few seconds."

His words do not calm you. As per usual.

"Yoongi will be orchestrating the scarification," Seokjin says. "Nimble fingers. He'll try to make it quick, right?"

"Yeah, right," Yoongi mutters. "Where do you want it?"

"What about under your boob? That's trendy these days." Taehyung snickers, nudging Jungkook who breaks a small smile.

You frown, just about to give him a piece of your mind when—

"Get out," Namjoon growls.

"Can't. Ceremonies are a family deal. Can't just kick out family, can you?" Taehyung snickers. "Besides, Y/N didn't mind. It was just an innocent joke."

"I'm not going to repeat myself," Namjoon warns. And the way he grits his teeth has you almost shaking in fear. But Taehyung doesn't seem to take the hint.

"Maybe you should go..." Jungkook whispers.

"Bullshit," Taehyung snorts. "Jin?"

Jin sighs as he looks warily at the trouble-causing man. "You can stay, but not another word."

Namjoon huffs and he rolls his eyes as Taehyung grins gleefully, making a motion of locking his lips and throwing away the key.

You watch the whole ordeal spread out before you, opened-mouthed. What the fuck just happened??

"Well?" Yoongi softly asks you as a reminder to answer.

"Uh, sorry," you hesitate. "I want it on the back of my neck."

Like Jimin's.

"Like Jimin's," Yoongi repeats your thoughts.

He watches as you shiver slightly in fear and for the slightest second, he feels pity. "If it helps you, you're welcome to close your eyes," Yoongi says. Still shaking, you nod, doing so. "Just... don't move."

"Okay," you squeak out.

You can feel Yoongi sweep your hair to the side, his warm, delicate fingers tracing the area on the back of your neck. You can feel goosebumps rise, and you pray that Yoongi doesn't see them.

"Take slow, deep breaths," Yoongi mutters.

Breathe, you tell yourself. If Jimin did it, I can.

The soft clinks of metal make your mind go foggy, and you can't seem to concentrate on anything except the imminent pain. You're shaking and you can feel your hands accumulating sweat.

"Relax..." Yoongi says. He waits for you to calm down for a few seconds before asking: "Ready?"

You grit your teeth, sit a bit taller, shut your eyes tighter and nod.

"Alright."

You gasp loudly and jump slightly when the searing heat touches the back of your neck. Immediately your face twists in pain, and you can't seem to catch your breath. You're seconds away from screaming that you want it to end when the scalding heat is gone. So you're left gasping, tears brimming your shut eyes as you feel Yoongi softly taking your hair and tying it up so it doesn't touch your burning skin.

"Don't drink too much alcohol or caffeine while that's healing," he instructs formally. But when he notices you're not answering, he asks, "Hey, are you okay?"

You exhale loudly, clenching your fists as your eyes flutter open. Your sight is a bit blurry through your tears, but you're pretty all right. Well, the back of your neck is killing you, though.

"I'm fine," you manage to mutter. "I'll live."

"Here," Yoongi says, handing you a tissue for your tears. "Congratulations, by the way."

Fuck. It's then when it really dawns on you.

"I'm a Crescent." You wipe the last of your tears away to see Seokjin smiling proudly at you.

"Welcome to the family, Y/N," Jin says. "How does it feel so far?"

You pause. Then, you frown. Compared to what Jimin had written what being a Crescent would feel like, you felt nothing special. You don't feel any different either, except for the stupid pain on the back of your neck. The world spins and you're left feeling dizzy.

What have I done?

"I..." you trail off. "Sorry, I think I need some time alone." With that, you dash away from the amber-lit basement and miraculously, find your room in a matter of minutes.

In the comforting depths of your room, you crawl into your bed and desperately pull out Jimin's journal. You need all the reassurance you can get. That this wasn't a mistake. That it was the right choice.

It had been cowardly of you to flee your new 'family' like that... but you couldn't bear to sit there with all the attention on you when you weren't even sure you'd made the right decision.

With shaking, careful hands, you flip to the last entry of Jimin's journal. Maybe this will offer a sort of relief? A break from the disaster that could be unfolding before your eyes. But as your eyes start to take in the words that Jimin had written in his journal, your faith in your decision fades. You are not relieved. You are horrified.

Cold day today. California shouldn’t be this fucking cold. It’s harder to get the job done when my mind’s only focused on how freezing my toes are. Too many things to do, such little time.Don’t remember the last time I got rest. Tae wants the three of us hitmen to go get a drink at the bar. I’m not feeling too particularly down for it. Knowing JK though, he’d do whatever Tae suggests. Guess I’ll go then. Have to get ourselves mentally ready for tomorrow, anyway. Can’t afford to get wasted. Maybe I’ll switch Tae and JK’s drinks out with water and tell them it’s Everclear. Won’t be the first time I’ve done it. I have a feeling it won’t be the last. 

You stare at the short journal entry in shock.

What... What was this?

The emotion, the passion, the light, the love is nowhere in the writing. Your brother had sounded tired and it was depicted in his rather messy scrawl. Usually, his handwriting was so neat.

Now you're having second thoughts. How much did Park Jimin change? How could the man who had written this entry be the same boyish brother you'd known for nearly all your life?

He sounds so cold and distant that you feel cold and distant as well. What had the mafia done to him?

Oh god. What have I gotten myself into? Can I back out? Is it too late?

The only reassurance you had is shattered.

The knock on the door also shatters your thoughts.

You quickly drop Jimin's journal, stashing it away under your pillow as you look at your closed door with alertness. There's another knock when you don't answer the first time.

"Hey, Y/N? You there?" Taehyung calls. "I'm sorry about that joke earlier... if that's what made you uncomfortable enough to run away."

Shit.

That's Taehyung. And there's no doubt that Jungkook's with him too.

You feel like you'd just been caught gossiping about both of them behind their backs. Well, it wasn't completely false. It'd just been revealed to you that those two are hitmen... And your brother hadn't been particularly fond of their antics. Besides, it sounded a lot like Jimin had to pick up after Jungkook and Taehyung's messes.

But you bite your lip and force yourself to respond. "I'm here," you call out dejectedly. "And you're fine... I wasn't that offended."

"Well, Y/N, we, uh... we're here to escort you to a meeting," Jungkook says. "You know, since you're..." he trails off.

"Right," you mumble. "Just... wait a minute. Please."

Hurriedly, you try to redo your hair in a messy bun and straighten out your clothes. Hopefully, it doesn't look like you've just had a midlife crisis. You take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm down your spiked heart rate. Then, you come out of your room looking pretty put-together.

"You good?" Jungkook whispers. "Your face is a bit red." He reaches over to place the back of his hand to your forehead, but you flinch away.

"No, I'm fine," you quickly say. "I don't have a fever."

Jungkook nods quietly and steps back to give you some space.

If Jungkook was offended by the way you flinched away from him, he didn't show it. If Taehyung was mad that you left suddenly after your ceremony, he made no mention of it. The usually chatty Taehyung was actually pretty quiet the whole walk to this meeting place. And it was a good thing too. The silence lets you drown in your thoughts.

Who can you trust now?

As you, Jungkook and Taehyung approach a room with large, mahogany doors, you can hear broken arguments being yelled at inside. The yelling makes you frown and you perk your ears to listen closely. You're able to make out words but not the speakers.

"We haven't had a new member in six years. She can't possibly adjust to this new life! She's not like us! She had no desire for this and you know that!"

"She's with us now. We just had the ceremony for fuck's sake!"

"SHE FLED FROM HER OWN CEREMONY!"

"THE MARK IS STILL EMBEDDED IN HER SKIN!"

The last statement sends a twinge of pain to the burn on your neck and you almost step back at the force of the words. It sounds like some people don't want you here.

You look to Jungkook and Taehyung to see their reactions, but they're as stoic as ever. Instead, Taehyung knocks loudly on the doors and the bickering voices dwindle to a pause.

The doors slowly open and behind them, you're able to make out the four others. Yoongi looks pissed off, Hoseok's red in the face and Namjoon looks very annoyed. Seokjin is the only one who seems to have kept his composure in the argument.

"Welcome, Y/N," Jin speaks. If they suspected you heard their arguments, they didn't make a show of it. "As you may know... well," he trails off, smiling fondly at you. "We'll continue this discussion somewhere more private."

You frown in utter confusion until Namjoon presses a hidden button somewhere on the wall and enters a code on a number pad that appeared out of nowhere. A whole new door opens up before you.

A secret room?

"Come," Jin says as he smoothly walks into the new room. You follow hesitantly with Jungkook and Taehyung by your side.

The other room is completely white minus the large table and chairs in the center. As soon as everyone steps in, Jungkook shuts the door, which disappears into the wall. Now, it looks like there's no escape from the blinding whiteness of the room. You feel like you're reduced to dirt in this vast oblivion, and Jin must've sensed your uncomfortableness.

"Here, Y/N. You can sit here," Jin gestures to one of the chairs beside the power seat. "No worries. This is just a soundproof room we use to discuss our matters." He smiles at you again. "I think it's time we finally tell you more about us."

"I think it's about time too," you mumble as you slide into your seat.

You had never been one to make such impulsive decisions... And even though you'd been pondering whether to join the Crescents for a week, you still feel as if your decision had been on a complete whim. That impulse had definitely been fueled by your desire for vengeance. Without knowing anything about this gang except the members involved and the name of it, you've joined. And now their mark is burning in the back of your neck.

"Well, what would you like to know?" Seokjin asks. He motions for everyone else to take their seats and they do, obediently. "We have all the answers."

You raise your eyebrows. "What... well... What are the Crescents?"

"That's ambiguous, don't you think?" Hoseok snorts. "We're a lot of things."

"We're a small gang, as you can see," Jin says, ignoring Hoseok's snarky comment. "We try to stray from street violence as an unspoken rule. And well, we make our immense profits through the black market."

Your face scrunches.The black market, huh?

"We don't engage in prostitution or drug dealing, if that's what you're thinking," Namjoon says. "Though I can only speak for myself." He glares at Taehyung who rolls his eyes so hard they disappear up his head for a few seconds.

"Yoongi and I are in charge of the sales," Hoseok sighs, shrugging. "Not the best job. But not the worst."

"The sale of what?" you ask. But you don't know if you want an answer.

"Sale of weapons, of course," Taehyung grins. "We have good connections everywhere."

Ah. Things are starting to click. Of course, arms dealing would make a lot of money—especially in the mafia.

"But sometimes, JK and I get to test these weapons out..." Taehyung smiles. "Only if Boss permits it."

Boss?

Your head whirls with all sorts of new information that had been kept from you until now.

"You're... You're the boss." You look at Seokjin dead in the eye, cocking your head.

"Was I that obvious?" he chuckles. "And since you've figured me out, I'll indulge you in the rest. You see, Namjoon's the underboss. Yoongi and Hoseok are right under him as our dealers... And Jungkook and Taehyung are our hitmen."

Right... Of course. Now it was all too obvious. But...

"What am I gonna do?" you ask.

"Nothing," Namjoon quickly says. "You won't have to do anything."

"She's a Crescent now," Hoseok snaps. "She's responsible for something."

Before Namjoon retorts back, Jin cuts in. "You'll be working alongside Yoongi and Hoseok, Y/N. We were hoping that your master's degree in economics will help us out." He notices your hesitation again. "Don't worry. It's not a dangerous job at all. Yoongi and Hoseok will teach you the ins and outs of it, soon."

You nervously look over at Yoongi and Hoseok who are apparently your new 'co-workers.' Yoongi's stoic as usual and Hoseok looks like he couldn't care less. Some welcoming new co-workers you have.

But it doesn't matter. You're here for one thing and one thing only.

"What are we going to do to avenge Jimin's death?" you say, crossing your arms. "I want to take part in that."

"Of course," Jin nods. "Soon. It'll be very soon."

The last time Jin had claimed something would be soon, it had been the very next day. You feel just a little bit calmer when you realize you might be getting your revenge sooner than you thought.

"Good..." you mumble. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Hoseok laughs. "Oh, Y/N, we haven't even begun."

4 a.m.

You've been staring at the same damn ceiling for nearly two hours now, but you can't get yourself to fall back asleep or even get out of bed.

You try not to think too much about what you've gotten yourself into, but it's hard not to when you're all alone in the dark with nothing but your thoughts. You can't take the stupid silence anymore.

Suddenly flinging the bed covers off, you get out of bed to reach under your mattress where Jimin's diary was. It's an instinctive, impulsive move that shocks you. The last time you'd read that diary, your hopes had shattered—your brother had felt foreign to you. But somewhere inside of you believed that if you continue reading, you'd be able to see the older brother you'd thought you'd known all your life. The more, the faster you read, the quicker you'll get to see the old Jimin. The one who wasn't tainted by the mafia. The one who didn't sound so cold. The one who you loved dearly.

So you immerse yourself into the words. The entries that Jimin had left (probably unknowingly) for you to read.

But time passes too slowly.

Maybe you're tired, or the writing is bland. You don't know. Whatever you're reading sounds too far off from your brother for you to fully believe in it. The events he describes seem to drag on endlessly without a peak in the story. Maybe you should just call it a day...?

But you don't feel tired. And your room isn't interesting to stare at after two hours of already doing so. You know what? I need to get out of this room.

You carefully tuck the diary back under your mattress and creep out of the room to find the hallways completely dark. There's something solemn about it, something you can't quite put a finger on. The place is so grand but there's an undeniable heaviness drenching the walls; or maybe that's just you, mourning over your brother. But being out of the confines of your room is better so you begin your little nighttime journey.

Honestly, you don't know where you're going. You're just letting your feet carry you as you try to keep your mind as blank as possible. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. Left. You stare at your feet as you mindlessly wander around the hallway.

It's actually quite a peaceful time, and you find yourself getting more tired by the minute as if the walking was lulling you to sleep. After taking a few more steps, you decide to just go back to your room and call it a night. Maybe you'll wake up the next day feeling a bit better?

Just as you're about to find your way back to your room, you hear voices. Loud, kind of pissed off, whispers. They are too muffled for you to make out what they are saying so you begin to tiptoe towards them.

When you come close enough to hear, you can also make out the presence of Yoongi and Namjoon. But you have to squint to see their facial expressions. Yoongi is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as Namjoon is frantically gesturing and pushing his hair back in frustration.

"She reminds me of him too much," Namjoon says, massaging his forehead.

"I know," Yoongi mumbles, sighing as he relaxes against the wall.

"Whenever I see her, I can't help but think of him and it's absolutely horrible. It's like the ghost of Park Jimin is walking down these halls... but it's just Y/N. Doesn't it hurt to look at her and see Jimin's face?"

"Of course it does," Yoongi sighs. "We can't do anything about it, though. Boss wants her here and so does everyone else."

"But you know what everyone else's intentions are," Namjoon scoffs. "Call him Seokjin, for god's sake, Yoongi. He's not even around."

"Fine. Seokjin wants her here."

"Yet she shouldn't even be here," Namjoon sighs.

"I know..."

"But you work with her now," Namjoon says. "You should do something. Get her to leave."

Yoongi sighs a second time. "As much as I'd want to, you know we can't."

"You're right..."

"I know that too," Yoongi sighs.

You frown as you watch the conversation unfold before you, wondering what on earth the intentions the others had. And it hurt to hear that you reminded Namjoon too much of your dead brother... After all, he was the man that your brother had cherished the most. But it wasn't your fault that you reminded them of Jimin. In fact, you were mourning just like they were.

So other than Namjoon and Yoongi, what was keeping the other men from agreeing to your stay? What were their intentions?

You're lightly surprised at yourself that you're not that infuriated by Namjoon nor Yoongi's words; but you realize that you're more saddened by the thought that your presence is actually hurting others, instead. Just when I thought I could have a relaxing night's sleep.

But maybe if you go to bed right now, you won't remember this ever happened? You're kidding yourself, but it had just been an excuse to get out of the dark halls at the ass crack of dawn. Of course, right when you turn to move, the floor creaks.

"Y/N?" Namjoon calls.

Shoot.

You freeze.

"We can see you," he says.

I guess there's no use hiding now. No use denying anything, either.

You hesitate for the slightest second before walking closer to the two men. "I heard you two," you confess, awkwardly putting your hands behind your back.

"We realize that now," Yoongi mutters under his breath.

"Listen," Namjoon sighs, scratching his head, awkwardly. "It's nothing against you, alright? Please, don't be mad, Y/N. I wanted you to leave because this is a dangerous business. You have to understand that we're asking you to risk your life every day."

"We're only saying this might not be the... correct lifestyle for you," Yoongi says. "It's been a lot to take in in such little time."

"Are you sure it's not because I remind you too much of Jimin?"

Namjoon visibly flinches, but Yoongi doesn't blink an eye. "We want you to be safe for Jimin's sake," the shorter man says as he readjusts his position leaning against the wall. "I just don't think he would've wanted you here."

"Wrong words," Namjoon groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Yeah..." you raise your eyebrows. "What do you mean? Jimin wrote in his will that he wanted me here. And I'm here to keep myself safe—that's what Jimin would've wanted."

Yoongi sighs. "Nevermind."

"You can't just drop a bomb on me and tell me it's nothing," you say. "You don't want me here for a reason and that reason is that I remind you of Jimin too much. You said the others have other intentions, which is why they agreed to keep me here. I want to know."

"I think you're overstepping your boundaries," Namjoon grunts. He suddenly towers over you, straightening his chest and back as he stares intimidatingly into your eyes. If he's using his position as the apparent underboss to scare you away, you're not going to back down. Instead, you take a step forward towards him.

"Boundaries?" you scoff. "What makes you think you can draw boundaries for me? I'm the one in charge of that."

"Both of you, calm down," Yoongi says. "Y/N, the rest of us wanted you here to honor Jimin's last wishes, all right? There's no need for a verbal fight. It's too early in the morning. You should go to bed."

Why does it feel like he's making up bullshit to get me to leave?

"I'll escort you back if you want," Namjoon offers, scratching the back of his head.

You shake your head, sighing. "I think I'll be fine, Namjoon. Besides, you don't want to be walking down a dark corridor at night with someone that looks like Jimin's ghost, do you?"

You don't let either of them speak another word as you whirl around and walk away.

—previous | next

—masterpost

—masterlist

#bts #bts fanfiction #ot7 #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #mafia au #over the moon #otm

[morning-star-57]

Miraculous Quirk AU

Idk if someone has already done this but here we go!

So, I recently got into Boku no Hero Academia and I got to thinking, what if the Miraculous universe was set in the same one as Bnha?

So, those of us who watch Bnha know the drill, 80% of the population has superpowers, called “quirks.” The other 20% are “quirkless.” So here’s how it would play out in my brain.

Super duper long, oops, so under the cut!

Miraculous:

works pretty much the same way as canon

only doesn’t give you a suit the holder picks that themselves

they work similar to One For All does in Bnha

the power of the previous owner fuels the power of the miraculous and the previous user can still use the power, but a weakened version of it

Ladybug miraculous gives the holder the power to create things and heal

Black Cat miraculous gives the power to destroy things with a touch (at will)

And so on, pretty much like canon but with some modifications

Marinette

was born quirkless

when she was younger, kids (cough Chloe cough) would make fun of her for it

was insecure about it for a long time and then saw all of the ways that quirks could backfire and decided it wasn’t worth it and it no longer bothers her (much)

(seeing Chloe blind herself was funny tho, even if it was temporary)

still wants to be a fashion designer

wary of superheros because of all of that property damage and also some of them are lowkey sus.

parents still own a bakery

Sabine’s quirk is levitation. She can make items and people float with her  mind but they have to be things she can physically lift (it’s okay tho cause she’s smol but strong). The drawback is that she gets really bad headaches and if she uses it too much or for too long, she can get a migraine.

Tom has a smaller, tamer version of pyrokinesis. He can’t make his entire body burst into flame but he can make certain parts, like his hands. He has a naturally high resistance to extreme weathers as his body heat is unusally high (hugs from him during the summer are bittersweet b/c he’s a great hugger but it’s too damn HOT DAD GET OFF-). The drawback is that he can’t control the temperature of the flame so if he’s not careful or if he uses his quirk for too long, it’ll burn him. His arms have many burn scars, rip.

back to Marinette

Decided the Hero Life wasn’t for her but still supports her friends who want to do it

Until she met the Lucky Hero, Tikki, her favorite

After plot happens, Tikki gives her the source of her “quirk”, the miraculous, and entrusts Marinette to carry on her legacy

Lots of angsty turmoil before she accepts the miraculous and decided to become a hero.

Chooses to be named the Ladybug, same as canon

Her hero costume would be the same as canon AT FIRST since her decision to go to a hero school was last minute af but then the suit will go through modifications to better suit her power needs and fashion needs

Got through the entrance exam after training with Tikki and because she’s badass shh

Doesn’t get a crush on Adrien until later once they’re already friends (or at all really idk yet)

Adrien

was the result of a quirk marriage

was the *failed result of a quirk marriage

Instead of inheriting both quirks of his parents, like intended, they combined and created a new one

His quirk is Charm. His body releases an invisible pheromone that makes him seem more attractive or trustworthy, sometimes both, depending on the person who smells it. This makes the “victim” more susceptible to his suggestions, but it’s not a total brainwash, unlike his father, so they can still easily fight it off if they wanted to. The drawbacks are that he can’t really stop it so he has to be constantly covered so that he doesn’t accidentally charm everyone. Also, after a while, people can build up tolerance to him and it won’t work as strongly on them.

Gabriel has Brainwash, which is often seen as a villain’s quirk. Everyone is thankful the he decided on fashion as a career and not villainy (oh those poor naive souls). If he looks into your eyes, you are put in his control and won’t be able to fight it unless he lets you go or if you receive a blunt impact to the head. The drawbacks are that he can’t control it so anyone who he makes eye contact with gets brainwashed unless there’s an obstacle in the way i.e.: glasses

Emilie’s quirk is sleep gas. Her skin cells naturally produce a gas that can put people in a coma-like state. The drawbacks are, again, can’t turn it off and the person has to be within range. She also has to be constantly covered.

Adrien wanted to be a hero at first to spite his father

Gabriel always hated heroes and saw them as a nuisance.

So Adrien basically said “fuck you, I’m going to be the best hero because I can”

And somehow convinced his dad to enroll him in College Francois Dupont, a local hero school

(he acutally just charmed him cause his dad isn’t around him enough to build up immunity to his quirk but shh)

He gets in through recommendations and is put in the hero course

This version of Adrien was still childhood friends with Chloe (who is immune to him) and a lot more distrustful of people, especially if they’re nice since he has no way of know if they’re genuinely a nice person or if they just fell prey to his quirk

rip the sunshine boy he has no friends except Chloe for the first few weeks of class

Becomes friends with Nino after they got paired up in a fight simulation

The slowly gets more comfortable around people and becomes more open to friendships

Doesn’t get the Black Cat Miraculous until much, much later when the Squad gets caught up in a fight with villains and the Unlucky Hero, Plagg (Tikki’s partner and husband) decides to entrust him with it

Impulsive chaotic gremlin that gets threatened to be put on a leash made by Marinette 

Chloe

also the result of a quirk marriage, this one being successful

Her quirk is called Diamond. Her skin has an extra layer that acts very similarly to an actual diamond so she can reflect, refract, and disperse light. This layer can also harden at her will so that she can become a semi-indestructible prism. Her body’s reaction to light intensifies while in this state. The drawbacks are that while her body is hardened, she cannot move easily and her speed will be greatly reduced. Also, her skin is just very sparkly almost all of the time which makes it hard to hide from villains and to see when it’s sunny out. Usually wear large sunhats and sunglasses to try and reduce the shine

Her and Adrien bond by being products of a quirk marriage

also got in through recommendation and everyone thinks she bought her way in but actually tried very hard to earn her spot

is VERY protective over Adrien and will blind someone if they say anything she deems offensive

She and Marinette practically hate each other on a good day before they were forced to hang out since Adrien kept bringing Chloe along with him whenever the Squad would get into shenanigans

They developed a mutual agreement to be civil at one point and that slowly turned into friendship

Y’know the type of friends that insult each other and fight over every small thing but the second someone else tries to come for the other they won’t h e s i t a t e BITCH

yeah that’s them

anyways, I digress

Is surprisingly the sensible one of the group

“no you cannot run headfirst into the fight Adrien, these are actual villains and you can’t even pass a simulation without dumb luck.”

“I don’t care if your quirk can heal you Marinette, stop jumping off of rooftops and go down the stairs like a normal person!”

“Put it down, Nino.”

“Luka. No.”

you get the idea

she is Mom

Says she wants to be a hero because hero’s are cool and she’s cool so it just makes sense for her to be a hero

(actually though because she wanted to make her mother proud of her but you didn’t hear it from me)

Is lowkey really powerful and if she tried to use the full extent of her powers, she’d be a beast

but don’t tell her that, she’s already got a big head

Luka

is working towards becoming an underground hero

His quirk is sound amplification. He amplifies preexisting sound waves to what ever frequency is needed. Depending on the frequency, he can break through almost any object. The drawback is that sound waves can damage his hearing and can become temporarily deaf if he uses it too long or if he creates a frequency that’s too high for his body to handle. Has a chance of becoming permanently deaf if he overuses his quirk too many times

His suit comes with modifications to help with that so he should be fine he hopes

His guitar doubles as a weapon since he usually amplifies whatever chord he plays

Already has his provisional hero licence

is still really chill

is one of the first to figure out Marinette’s secret but is a good boi so he doesn’t tell

you’d think that being the oldest of the group he’d be the sensible one but nope

is accidentally the one that encourages shenanigans 

Luka, innocently: Hey, did you know that the teachers don’t lock up the sim rooms?

Chloe: *Death glare*

Luka: *nervous confusion*

the one who encouraged Juleka to go for the hero course 

Nino

Adrien’s best friend, just like canon

started out as general studies since he wasn’t sure if he was good enough to be a hero but a teacher saw his potential and was transferred into the hero course

His quirk is time reduction. He can slow time or even stop it completely if he concentrates very hard, allowing him to get one place to the next in literally no time at all. He used to think it was super speed because this but found out what it really was when he tried to save a cat from being run over and stopped time. He can also stop  only certain objects in time but that takes up more energy. The drawback is that if he overuses his quirk he starts to speed up his own time in order to compensate for the time he’s losing so he becomes very tired and after “3 hours” of his own time passed he will pass out from exhaustion. Also, he can only manipulate the time within his quirk’s range which can go up to about the size of an american football field (160 feet/49) meters.

is super insecure of his quirk because he thinks it’s not as cool as everyone else’s

they make sure to let him know that that’s bs and he’s very cool

feeds off of Adiren’s chaotic energy during simulations

has been put in timeout by Chloe when this happens

will stop time to bask in the moment 

gets emotional during this

there have been many times where the Squad is chilling and suddenly everyone just sees Nino sobbing 

group hugs ensue

Adrien, probably: “Chloe get your shiny ass in the cuddle pile or so help me-!”

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 I’ll make a part two since this is already so long, but that’s it for now! What do y’all think?

Part 2 is now up!

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang #chloe bourgeois #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #luka couffaine #ml x bnha #ml au idea #ml au #quirk au #miraculous quirk au

[thebibliosphere]

You don't have to answer this since I know you're post migraine and I want you to focus on your health, but if you've ever had a panic attack did the symptoms last for days afterwards? I think I had one and I'm really struggling days later with thought spirals about it happening again and how I need to go to the doctor now even though the US health system is fucked and I'm scared to. If any of your followers could chime in too, that'd be great. Otherwise ignore this, hope you feel a bit better!

So I’m afraid I’m likely not giving this the attention it needs but I saw this at a glance and wanted to say I hope you feel better soon and you should absolutely reach out to a professional for help if you can, but what you are describing could well be a panic attack that has lead into an anxiety attack—which can last for several days.

Panic attacks tend to be acute episodes that trigger severe physical responses such as such as a feeling of sudden doom, trouble breathing, rapid heart rate, dizziness, headaches, numbness etc etc, and typically speaking it will last anywhere from 10-20 minutes. They can leave you feeling physically and emotionally wiped out like you just ran a marathon or had the worst flu of your life.

An anxiety attack however, can last several days, and typically the symptoms will be much less intense than that of the actual panic attack, but are nevertheless persistent and can become debilitating the longer it goes on for, and can be especially scary if you don’t know this.

These anxiety episodes can be brought on by the more acute panic attack and then take a few days to lessen, or it could be a symptom of a broader anxiety disorder that you may need help with, and let me just say, I get it, it’s so scary to consider trying to get help for such a thing, but you absolutely deserve to get help, whether this is a long term issue or something circumstantial, you still deserve to get help and not feel like this. You’re doing the right thing by wanting to reach out to get help, and it’s very brave of you and I’m so proud of you for taking care of yourself. And I’m sure many others in the comments will agree.

Take care, okay? You’re important and deserving of kindness and good things, and I hope you find a path to them soon

#panic attack #anxiety #kno-108