#id rather someone who doesn’t know what to do and what words to use but brings food till it gets better than someone goes

[porcelana-r0ta]

let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was. 

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM: 

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin. 

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia. 

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option. 

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. 

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house. 

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death. 

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building. 

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?” 

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.” 

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl. 

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house. 

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight. 

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!” 

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.” 

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.” 

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms. 

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly. 

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!” 

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs. 

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead. 

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.” 

“What did I do?” 

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?” 

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!” 

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand. 

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.” 

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?” 

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.” 

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.” 

Damn, Jason curses to himself. 

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?” 

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.” 

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.” 

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!” 

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.” 

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face. 

Jazz doesn’t dispute it. 

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t. 

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.” 

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!” 

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!” 

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again. 

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.” 

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab. 

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy. 

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green. 

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell. 

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?” 

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings. 

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral. 

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it. 

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery. 

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton. 

“Why are the fucking Bats here?” 

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?” 

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?” 

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.” 

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?” 

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls. 

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating. 

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.” 

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks. 

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.” 

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks. 

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.” 

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.” 

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it. 

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.” 

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.” 

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully. 

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?” 

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X: 

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her. 

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #batman #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #the joker #johnny 13 #severely ooc

[nctstar]

Hiii I dont know if you still take requests but really like your blogs and I want to ask can you please do a jaehyun x female reader where the reader id pregnant and jae is needy but she isn't confident about her pregnancy body so he tell her it's okay and all you can change it as much as you like but like just keep the main idea pls thank youuuuu

thank you! here you are :)

be my forever only.

“My love…I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

other members: none

word count: 2.1k

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! descriptions of pregnancy and pregnancy body, reader is insecure about her appearance, kissing, pregnancy sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, clitoral stimulation, breast play, penetrative p in v sex, (pretty vanilla actually who would have thought for me lol), lots and lots of praise and use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, darling, love etc.), profanity, jaehyun is sort of a soft dom (but nothing too crazy)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: we all need a jaehyun like this i think

Nothing was going right today from the start.

Your hair was having a field day – dry as hay on the ends, greasy near your part line, making it near impossible for any style to look half-decent. Lips chapped and skin peeling, you swallowed a lump of acidotic nausea that threatened to spill past your lips for what felt like the dozenth time today. You must have gone to the bathroom to let trickles of urine leak out of you, never feeling quite relieved but at the same time, not being able to resist the urge each time. You felt swollen, like your body was bursting at the seams of your hot, tight skin.

And to make matters worse, today was the hottest day of the year.

“Jae,” you called out breathlessly, trying not to sound too exhausted as you lowered yourself down onto your bed with shaky arms. “Can you come here, please?”

The sound of your husband’s steps calmed you momentarily, a wave of contentedness that was swiftly replaced by anxiety as you watched his form materialise at the frame of your bedroom door.

There was nothing wrong with Jaehyun – in fact, he was perfect.

Too perfect.

“You alright?” His shirt hung open dangerously, revealing the tantalising lines of his toned stomach and the edges of his underwear, pants slipping off his slender hips. “Oh, wait, wait.” He rushed over to you, the smell of his cologne overtaking you, making your nausea spike tenfold. “Jae, that’s okay. That’s not why I called.” You willed the wave of nausea away before speaking again. “Is the AC on? It doesn’t seem like it is.”

“It is, love. It’s freezing,” His face was lined with worry, even as he tried to laugh it off. “You feeling sick again?”

You wanted to shake your head, say no, but your head moved on its own accord. As you tilted your head up and down, tears flooded your vision. “Sorry.” You tried to whisper, but it came out a whimper, and immediately you felt Jaehyun squeeze his arms around your body, soundless.

You felt the nausea rising again, and you shoved your arms against his, the cologne smell attacking you once again. “No, Jae, don’t. I’m gonna be sick again.” As soon as the words left you, you gagged, head flying down in response. You felt his weight lift off the bed and heard the sound of your bedside vomit bag crinkle even before he held it up towards your face. “It’s okay. Do you need to? Just go if you need to.” He rubbed your back rather harshly, but it felt so nice, like a thousand-year-old itch finally being tended to. You sobbed, one hand stubbornly wiping away every tear that dared rolled down your skin.

“Hey, hey. Are you hurt? Do you want me to call someone?” You furiously shook your head. “No? What do you need, baby? I can help you.”

Between gasps for air, you managed to get out. “I feel so nauseas, but nothing will come out. I feel heavy, like a lump of shit, or a water balloon. And I feel so ugly!” You cried harder, simultaneously because you felt ugly and because of how silly and superficial that sounded coming out of your mouth. Jaehyun’s rubs on your back transformed to gentler strokes, and he spoke softly. “Why would you feel ugly? You’re carrying our child, my love. You have never been more beautiful.”

You scoffed. “Really, Mr ‘Hottest Man in Korea?’” The headline you saw this morning still flashed before your eyes, making you feel ashamed that you were this perfect man’s wife. And then, even more ashamed at the fact that you could even think about yourself like that.

This had never been a problem for you. You were far from a model, or, at least, what the current beauty standards considered the pinnacle of feminine beauty and perfection. But it never really phased you, even as you stood next to your conventionally perfect husband, watching him stand next to other seemingly flawless human beings. You never cared about any of it. Yet, today, the dangerous concoction of your pregnancy hormones and the TikToks you saw this morning about wives saying their husbands found them less attractive after pregnancy, threatened to push you over the edge.

Jaehyun furrowed his brows, looking annoyed. “What are you talking about, _?” Seeing him annoyed snapped you out of your tearful mood, and you tried to stand, teter tottering under the weight of your belly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me.” Pulling you down gently, Jaehyun slid his hand down your arm and let it rest on top of yours as you sat back down. The burning in your legs from the effort started to ebb away, and you sighed. “I know it’s stupid.”

“No, of course not.”

“No, but it is. Like, I mean, why should I care how sexy you think I am? That’s not even why we got together…I mean, of course I care, but, like, I think I’m decent, like maybe a five-“

Your lips were met with his, cutting you off, the smell of his hair now clouding you. You breathed into the kiss, but your body felt stiff, refusing to relax. Jaehyun pulled away, grazing the edges of his lips on your cheek. “I can’t believe you think so lowly of yourself, _. You’re gorgeous. You always have been.” He began to travel his face down to your neck, leaving soft kisses on your skin, making the hairs on your body stand on end. “Jaehyun,” you tried to whisper, but it came out like a loud moan, and you immediately blushed. He chuckled, wrapping his long fingers around your waist. “Do you want this, my love? Are you still feeling alright? Let me take care of you, then.”

Your body felt hot, butterflies erupting in your stomach from a sudden sense of feeling cared for, of being loved so deeply. It wasn’t necessarily that he wasn’t sweet like this always, but something about the idea of letting go of your anxieties and having your husband take the lead like this made you feel floaty with desire. “O-okay.” As soon as the breath left your lungs, Jaehyun stood to make his way in front of you, bending down on one knee. You giggled. “I do, Jae.”

He smiled, his eyes turning into half circles. “Are you losing your memory too, baby? Or is it just your marbles? Thinking you’re not sexy, you’re not beautiful. What nonsense.” He huffed, and you cringed physically, not used to being so lovey-dovey like this. You can’t say you were hating it, though.

Placing his hands on your knees, you reflexibly separated them, making him chuckle. “So eager for me. No, I want you to shuffle back on the bed, darling.” Muttering an oh, you begin to shuffle yourself back using your arms, feeling Jae push on your knees to help. “That’s it. Good girl.” Your stomach turned at his words and his voice, knowing how much you loved his soft praises as much as his mean dominance.  

Your knees fell apart naturally, the weight of your belly now pushing down onto the lower part of your spine, making you wince. You fought back a groan, but Jaehyun was already onto it, pillow in hand. “Let me pop this under your back, darling. Do you wanna lay like this? Is it comfortable?” Grunting, you both manoeuvred the pillow to fit snug under the curve of your lower back, throat dry with anticipation. “It’s okay, baby.” You let your head fall back, your shoulders and neck aching from looking at Jaehyun’s head from this angle. “That’s it. Lie back and relax, _.”

As soon as Jaehyun’s hot tongue nestled inside you, your legs recoiled naturally, stopping as your thighs hit the plush of your belly. “A-ah.” Jaehyun shushed you, the vibrations spreading through your core and deep inside you, making you moan. As he worked his tongue in circles, you tried to reach down you touch him, or yourself, fighting the urge to cum quickly, but also wanting to so bad. His long arms stretched out to pin your wandering hand into place. “Did I say to move, hmm?” He sped up, head bobbing up and down, the wetness of your juices now spreading to the inner skin of your thighs, making you cry out. “Fuck! Oh my god, Jae, don’t stop…” you babbled, falling apart at a rapid rate.

“I’m gonna cum!” Your head thrown back, you felt your legs shake, and Jaehyun pull away, making you audibly whine. “Shh, be patient, pretty girl. What do we say when we feel good, hmm?” Hair in his eyes, you watched him tower over you, one hand still between your legs. You were surprised at the way he was soft and gentle, but also keeping up with the domineering that always sent you into bliss. His fingers pushed lightly onto your clit, but it was enough to send electricity down your spine. “Mmm, Jae, so good, so good…” Your lips met his, tongue exploring the crevices of your mouth as you moaned. His other hand squeezed around your right boob, eliciting a shaky whimper from you. “Please, I’m…ngh, thank you, thank you…” He hummed in satisfaction, rubbing your clit faster as he kissed the space between your boobs, meeting your skin as you arched your upper back off the bed in pleasure. You cried as you came, squeezing your eyes shut hard until you could see stars. Jaehyun pressed a kiss to your forehead, your vision blurry as you opened your eyes. “Beautiful, my love. So perfect.” You began to cry again, letting him peck the thin skin of your face and neck, his hot breath caressing you with every kiss.

“M-more, please…” You tried to squeeze your legs together, for the smallest bit of relief, but the weight of your protruding belly stopped you. You whined in frustration. “Fuck, please, please, you’re so good…want your cock, please.”

“So polite, my pretty girl.” Jaehyun pressed a kiss on top of your belly, making you suddenly shyer than ever. “Who am I to deny my baby, hmm?” You nodded fervently, making him chuckle once again, sitting back on his heels to align his hard length against your leaking hole. As he pushed himself inside, the stretch felt overwhelming, all encompassing, and your toes curled, fingers clutching the sheets in vain. “O-oh, fuck, so sensitive…” Jaehyun halted his hips, high kneeling to watch your face closely. “Does it hurt, love?” You shook your head, but he still slowed down, one hand holding yours and letting his thumb stroke the skin lazily in an attempt to soothe you. “F-fuck, you’re sucking me in so well, honey. Wish you could see this perfect pussy right now.” You replied through a series of wanton moans, eyes rolling already at the feeling of being stuffed full, the pressure on your clit orgasmic. “I’m gonna cum again, oh, fuck.”

You and Jaehyun groaned in unison as you squirted all over his cock, egging him on to start thrusting deeper and faster. His cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls, your pussy screamed with sensitivity, but you felt too good to stop. “Nghhh, ah, please, please…” Tears streaming down your face, Jaehyun grabbed your hand and kissed the top messily, his hips still travelling at an unfaltering speed. “Perfect, so perfect. You wanna cum again, princess?” You babbled incoherently, but he kept going. “Say it. Say you’re beautiful, and you deserve to cum.”

“I, ah, hmm, wanna cum…” Your voice shook, and Jaehyun spread his legs wider, pulling both of your ankles up towards his shoulders. The new angle hit right on your g-spot, the sudden switch making you scream. “Oh, fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet. That wasn’t good enough.” Jaehyun thrusts were getting sloppier, messier, and you could tell he was close. Your face felt hot, the rush of blood in your ears almost deafening, all organised thoughts leaving you as you felt your body reach another climax. “Ah! Fuck, gonna cum! Deserve it, please…I’m b-beautiful, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your whole body jerked involuntarily, your vision momentarily going black as you came hard and fast. You heard Jaehyun’s voice first, then his lips on your ear, one hand stroking your face and another your thigh. “Shhh, good girl, baby. Let me fill you up so good, baby.” Only then could you feel that he had finished inside you, his hot load viscous and threatening to spill out with the tiniest movement. “You okay?”

You needed a minute to regain your composure, but you used whatever strength you had left to nod, mumbling. “Was so good. Wanna sleep, please.”

“Okay, honey. You relax, I’ll clean you up.”

You latched onto him, bringing him closer to you, the smell of his body making you want to cry in relief. “I…love you, love you, Jaehyun. Please, s-stay.” He kissed you, muttering I love you’s back as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“My love…I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”

#kpop #nct #kpop fanfiction #nct fanfiction #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #kpop imagine #nct imagine #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct 127 #nct u #jaehyun smut #dom jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #reader x jaehyun #nct x reader #pregnancy smut #nct pregnancy

[scarasbaefy]

linger

chars; scaramouche/wanderer

; fem reader, angst

note; I AM NEW TO THIS !! i neefd more angst i love angst so im doing it myself. emoly if u see this, HI !!!

Ⰶ

sitting on the bed you shared with your “husband” is all you seemed to do these past few months. scaramouche is rarely ever home. when he is, he doesn’t even bother to greet you. not a smile on his face, and no word is exchanged between you. there hasn’t been any intimacy either. no kisses, no loving touches.

“why don't you just leave him? it’s obvious you’re miserable.” tartaglia said as he seen you walk out the infirmary. he had no idea what he was talking about. he doesn't even know the feeling of loving someone so much that you don’t want to let go. “i love him.” you stated, no emotion present in your voice. who can blame you? you were in a loveless relationship. tartaglia felt bad for you but didn’t say anything more. you stared at his back, watching him as he continued to walk down the hall. everyone was worried sick at your depressed state, except of course scaramouche.

tartaglias words lingered in your mind. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask scaramouche why he was acting this way towards you. was it the girl everyone had been talking about? you’d occasionally hear other harbingers talk about a mysterious traveler ruining their plans. 

you walked back to your room with the mystery girl in your mind. sometimes you would read reports from scaramouches missions that had been mailed in for filing. the way he wrote about her and complimented her skills made you slightly jealous. ‘it’s okay,” you told yourself, “soon, she’ll be the furthest thing from his mind!”

before him becoming distant, he would talk to you with the happiest look on his face. he would bring you gifts and strike down anyone who dared to look at you the wrong way, never failing to bring butterflies to your stomach. the memories of the past made you tear up. “i miss my husband.” you whispered as you rubbed your stomach, trying to soothe the sudden cramp you had been getting for a while now.

“i’m right here. stop crying. it’s making you look pathetic.” scaramouche said as he slammed the door shut. “do you know how embarrassing it is having a crybaby wife like you? lumine would never do this. everyone looks at us with pity and i hate it, and it’s all your fault,” his words dripped with venom. 

you felt your heart drop. you didn’t know he was coming home today. the plan to tell him the news you found out from the infirmary suddenly slipped out of your mind, fear of what he’d do to you replacing its spot. 

“i-i.. when did you arrive? i thought you wouldn’t be coming home for another week or so,” you said as you wiped the tears from your eyes. 

scaramouche walked in front of you, grabbing ur face with one hand while rubbing the tears away rather harshly. you immediately tried prying yourself away from him. “stop! you’re hurting me!” you shouted, grabbing his wrists and forcing his hands off your face. “oh give me a break,” he started, “now i can’t even wipe your tears away without you acting dramatic? isn’t this what you want anyways? god, how much more useless can you get? if i knew you were going to become like this, i wouldn’t have married you. id rather walk this land alone a thousand times and witness my friends get killed, than to be seen with a person like you.” your heart dropped for a second time. this time, the aching pain lingered longer. 

you slowly smiled at him. one of those smiles you give when you’ve had enough. months without him talking to you and this is how he treats you? scaramouche furrowed his eyebrows at your reaction. no one should be happy after being insulted. 

“okay.” you said, the smile turning into a bitter expression. you stood up and shoved him away from you. “take your lousy ring,” you took the ring off your finger and threw it towards his feet, “i’m sick of this, and you, and everything you haven’t done. i haven’t done anything to you to deserve this,” scaramouche stood there with a surprised face. he stumbled as he reached to catch your ring, regret immediately washing over him. never in a million years did he think you’d be capable of talking back. you’re a sweet person with no room for hate. “don’t look for me,” you continued, “don’t follow me. don’t even bother mentioning my name,” you made your way towards the door, hand reaching for the doorknob, “and by the way, don’t be surprised when one of your subordinates reports back to you telling you they spotted me with an infant that resembles you.” the electro vision on your back flickered before the sound of thunder roared and lightning replacing where your body once stood, teleporting you out of the building.

#hi #wyd #i didnt know what to write about #scaramouche #wanderer #angst #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader angst #genshin #genshin impact #teyvat #childe #tartaglia #oneshot

[captain-mj]

Lazarus

Might do a part 2 to this?

Ever hear about the book of revelations?

Something happened. The only reason Soap knew was because it was hard to not notice how secretive Price got. 

“What do you think it is?” 

Gaz sat with him, both staring at Price’s empty seat. “Don’t know. It’s gotta be bad, right? Why else would he just not talk to us about it? He told you anything, Ghost?”

“Not a word.” His gloves hands were tapping hard on the table. “Keeps walking out to answer phone calls. I think it’s something in Britain. His accent thickens when he comes back.” 

Soap sighed and stretched, popping his back. “Isn’t he from London? Doesn’t that mean it’s someone from there he’s talking to?”

Ghost grunted but Gaz just grinned. “Don’t think it’s someone he has waiting for him at home? Maybe he picked up someone on leave and he hasn’t told us yet.” 

They all knew that wasn’t it, but it was a lot nicer to joke about that than anything else. Lot nicer. 

Then, Price told them all they would be dealing with a mission in Manchester. He said it with such a grave tone, Soap had anticipated a lot worse. Middle of Siberia since it was winter or Buckingham Palace was going to be blown up in an act of war. Possibly even the fucking Pentagon. Something worthy of the way that Price gripped the desk and looked afraid. 

So to hear that it was Manchester was a little confusing.

“Manchester?” Ghost asked, tilting his head. Ah. Ghost grew up there. That’s why Price seemed so nervous.  He was probably worried about how Ghost would hold up. 

Soap didn’t know everything, but he knew enough about Ghost to know Manchester was not a good place for him.

“Yes. I need all three of you. Something… happened there.” Price glanced at Ghost again before looking down at where his hands were white knuckling the table. “Get your gear together. We leave as soon as everyone is ready.”

Gaz nodded. “We’ll get ready as soon as possible, sir.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. We’ll be going by vehicle so meet me in the base garage.” Price wrapped his knuckles against the table before departing. 

The unease that had started earlier only intensified. It suffocated them until even Soap struggled to think of things to say to fill the silence. Ghost was his normal, quiet self. He looked out the window and drifted as Soap liked to call it. But Price, who usually was willing to joke around since he knew the long silences would get to Soap and Gaz, was silent. Which left it up to Gaz and Soap to keep everything going. They spoke loudly, cheerfully, trying to burn out the thick fog of tension. 

It didn’t really work but it was an improvement. 

Ghost put music on about mid way through, some rock music that sounded a bit older. 

“Your mom.” Price asked and the oxygen left the room as Ghost slowly turned his head towards him. His eyes widening to an almost comical degree. 

“What did you say sir?”

“Your mom. You told me once that she likes the Beatles, right? Especially Hey Jude.”

Ghost stared at him and Gaz quickly glanced at Soap, horrified that Price would so… casually drop something so personal about Ghost. 

“Yes, sir. She did.”

Price nodded. “Right…”

“Why do you ask, sir?” Ghost’s voice had slowly gotten cold and taut. Ready to snap at any moment. 

Price didn’t answer. They kept driving. Soap and Gaz avoided talking about music for the rest of the car ride. 

They pulled into a facility that looked… rather dark. Something about it was very unsettling. All concrete and rebar. 

Ghost followed Price, looking at him warily. He glanced back at them and Gaz stared back, both of them silently communicating about how weird it was for Price to be acting like this. 

They were checked in and when the person at the desk, who looked to be heavily armored but not armed, went to check Ghost’s identification and Price was quick to stop her. Ghost held the fake id in his hand, always keeping one on him, but he followed Price’s lead and slowly put it away. 

There were cell like rooms dotting the main hallway. Each one unnerving and quiet. People were in a few of them, most of them just… staring. Several hand dirt all over their hands or over their face, even though their clothes were clean. 

Ghost checked each one. It was because of instinct, nothing more. He checked each person, slowing after a second. Some were… familiar. Just vaguely. Their faces bouncing around in his brain. They flinched away from him, unsettled by his skull mask. 

Something was wrong. Something was deeply wrong. He kept slowing down, trying to piece these people together. One of them he finally recognized as working at a store when he was a teen. 

What were they doing here? 

“Get that fucker away from me.” A man barked at them, glaring at Ghost. “Swear to god, he’s fucking insane. You need to lock him up.” The man was medium height with bright blue eyes and a shock of dirty blond hair. He’s looking at Ghost like he’s afraid. 

Soap opens his mouth, intent on asking when Ghost throws himself against the bars like an animal. “I’m going to fucking kill you. I’m going to rip your goddamn insides out.” He reached between them, so erratic and violent and unlike Ghost that it startled the three of them. Then they were trying to drag him away from the bars. 

Ghost turned back on Price like a snake, dark eyes the only indication of anything. “You knew? How long has he been here? Did you know he was alive the whole damn time?” He managed to get his hands around Price’s throat, clearly ready to kill him. 

Price just barely got a grip on his wrists, trying to keep him from cutting off the oxygen to his brain. Soap tried to physically yank Ghost back while Gaz tried to pry his fingers off of Price. 

“Fuck you, John. You brought me here. Knowing that man would be alive. I thought I killed him. He should be dead. You should be fucking dead.” Ghost hissed at the man. 

“This is why you weren’t allowed back in the military.” The man spat at him, full of venom. 

Ghost staggered and swung back to him. “Fuck you, Sparks.”

“Riley. You’re fucking insane. Still hiding behind that fucking skull. I told you, all you had to do was come to the fucking-”

Something happened to the bars, like a shock. It made Sparks jerk back. 

“Simon.” Price rubbed his throat, clearly not as upset as anyone else would be. He understood why Ghost had the reaction, even if no one else did. “Let me explain. Something happened. We’re not sure if they’re… the real people.”

Gaz looked at Price, finally managing to tear his eyes off of Ghost. “What?”

“Dead people just… came back. To life. We’re trying to figure out what exactly happened. The reason we’re here is one of the cemeteries affected was the one of the biggest Protestant cemetery in Manchester.”

Soap took a deep breath.

“John…”

-

Ghost had been glaring at this mystery person for twenty minutes so far. Where most people would shake or beg for their lives, this man just stared back. 

Fluffy natural blond hair and gorgeous green eyes. He had a thick manchester accent just like Ghost. “Are we going to do this all day, Simon?”

The three witnesses snapped their heads to look at Ghost. His hands were flat in front of him but incredibly tense. “Who are you?”

“You know the answer to that, but I’ll give you some time.”

“The person you’re mimicking is dead.”

Mystery guy looked at himself. “Nah, I look fine. Just had to get the dust off. What are you trying to do? Prove it’s me? Prove it’s not me?”

Ghost stared at him. “You’re not him. He died a very long time ago.” There was a tense silence.”

“How can I prove it? Name every street name for coke? Tell the people watching us where you hid your dirty mags?”

“...my magazines?” Ghost sounded genuinely surprised.

“Third plank under your bed.”

“Lucky guess.”

He groaned and got comfier. “Si, come on.”

“You’re not Tommy.”

“You know I am.” It’s why you’ll look me in the eye.” ‘Tommy’ leaned forward. “Don’t be like this. You know it’s me.”

Ghost shook his head, hands clenching. “Can’t be sure.” 

“What do you want? I can showing you the tattoo on my ribs you gave me. Talk about how, despite griping, you held me the entire night I was shivering from withdrawals. Though I’d die in our childhood room until you sat next to me. Same way Mom did when you had nightmares.”

Mom. 

Childhood bedroom. 

They were siblings. 

Soap frowned. He felt like an idiot for not realizing sooner. The hair and manner of speaking. 

It was difficult to imagine a baby Ghost having nightmares or going to his mom or even just… being little. Another idea that felt very foreign was Ghost taking care of someone like that. He was a good person that cared a lot and very deeply. But it felt so sweet and sincere. Maybe it was just that Soap had a hard time imagining Ghost off duty. He liked to sometime. Try at least. He admired the man and maybe he had a little crush on him. The idea of him being a big brother and a very good one at that was… 

Interesting. 

“Not proof.”

“I thought you were going to come out to me when I asked you to be my best man.”

“You said thought. Doesn’t mean anything.”

Sopa and Gaz glanced at each other, silently raising eyebrows as they examined the fact that Ghost did not deny the coming out part. Or acknowledge it.

Tommy sighed. “I’ve known since I was 14 and caught you and Jason making out behind the school house.” Ghost went to interject, but Tommy cut him off. “You haven’t cried since Dad made you go to the concert. You apparently cried on the way back and Dad beat you so hard he broke something in your face. Closest you came ever again was when I told you that Joseph’s middle name was Simon. He was a premie. Two months early and tiny. Could fit in my hand so I knew he could fit in yours. You insisted on checking on Beth first, claiming you were worried about her, but we all knew you were just scared to hurt him.”

Ghost was quiet. Not his eerie practiced quiet he used to scare recruits. A vulnerable, almost mournful quiet. 

“I once asked when you’d finally settle down. I was careful to never say wife to you. Said you didn’t see a point because it would never be what Beth and I have. Didn’t say anything but I thought you were an idiot for that. Cause you wouldn’t have what Beth and I do. You’d have what Simon and whoever got lucky has.” Tommy smiled and leaned forward. “You’re my best friend. You know me. You knew me strung out. You knew me when you crawled home from Mexico. And you know me three years after I died. Because I’m your best friend too.” 

Ghost stared and Soap felt like he was intruding. For a moment, he though of pulling Gaz and Price away, but if this was a trick and this guy was dangerous, he’d be living Ghost, an emotionally vulnerable Ghost apparently, all alone.

“Yeah, Price. He’s definitely Tommy.” 

Tommy laughed. “You’re a giant sap. Just wanted me to call you my best friend, didn’ you?” He tilted his head at him.

Ghost stood up and glanced around the room, like he was trying to find a reason he could leave. Tommy stood up and hugged him. Like it wasn’t a big deal to touch Ghost. The Ghost. Simon Ghost Riley. Simon hugged back tentatively. 

“I’m right here, big guy. Love you too.” 

Ghost crumbled into him. He mumbled something to Tommy who patted him. “I know. I know. Missed you too. Guys can we have a moment?”

“Price was still staring at Tommy with what they now recognized as a shock and awe. “Yeah, come on sergeants.” He backed out, keeping his eyes on them.

“Captain. Who was that?”

“A dead man?”

“Suicide mission?”

Price shook his head. “Murdered in his home. Had nothing to do with the military. 

Soap nodded. “How many people came back to life?”

“So far? We have no clue. But it’s a lot.”

“How many does Simon know?”

“A lot.”

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #cod #ghoap

[outism-odyssey]

Outis Base EGO Sin Analysis

Right, I made this blog specifically to analyze her sins... and promptly forgot to do that!

For the meanings of each sin, I’ll be largely referring to this post from @lu-is-not-ok​ (its a very good post, do check it out!)

I originally meant to do her base ID and EGO in the same post, but, the EGO alone goes on for a while. (I’ll probably write up the base ID tomorrow)

Sin Costs

To Páthos Máthos costs 2 pride and 2 sloth, and translates to "Suffering Becomes Experience". Pride generally represents ignoring consequences. Act now, deal with the problems later. And almost always, pride-related actions ate taken out of the belief the benefits will outweigh the consequences. Sloth, on the other hand, represents apathy and resignation. It has many uses, but a particular use I think resonates with this ego is to do things without ever complaining or acting out.

Together, these sins would suggest that Outis believes what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. That she should press on, stoic and ignoring the pain, believing in the end she'll come out better for it. But, I don't think she actually believes that. Rather, it's what she *wants* to believe.

Early in canto 4, Outis tells the other sinners that "experiencing a certain pain will make you learn to fear and avoid it." And she says this in a very different tone of voice to the rest of her speech. It certainly doesn't sound like the words or tone of someone who thinks pain makes them stronger.

Her EGO's line is "the odyssey has a purpose." And in the context of her speech in canto 4? It sounds to me like she's trying to convince herself. She's trying to tell herself that there's meaning to her suffering, and that she hasn't just gone through all this for no reason. Telling herself that her odyssey did have a purpose.

Sin Resistances

There’s a few theories around about what exactly sin resistances on a sinner’s EGO means (like this one from analytical-machine!), but for this analysis I’ll be sticking to my own interpretation of it.

In the abnormality EGOs, I don’t believe resistances mean much of anything.it’s just the abnormality’s resistances, and it’s always identical across all sinners with the same EGO. But, the base EGOs are more interesting.

For a sinner’s base EGO, I believe the sins they’re fatal to are in some way connected to the origins of their traumas, while the sin they endure is how they’re trying to escape it - either literally or metaphorically.

For instance, Gregor has fatal for gloom and envy damage - respectively representing his PTSD and feelings towards G corp, and Hermann using him as a test subject and poster boy. On the other hand, he endures sloth. Gregor escaped the room he was locked into when, out of resignation, he cut the apple and was allowed to leave - resignation being heavily associated with sloth.

The resistances for To Páthos Máthos are: Fatal: lust, envy Endured: gloom

The combination of lust and envy was odd. Lust is associated with self-indulgence, following your own whims and goals. But Envy is associated with taking action because of someone else. They seem like complete opposites. I kind of didn’t know what to do about them. But, @speedynamo​ had some great insight in some comments, and I’ll paraphrase those below.

For Outis’ envy weakness: In The Odyssey, Odysseus ended up in the trojan war because he was bound by a truce to support the Greeks if Helen were ever to be kidnapped. When Paris of Troy asked Aphrodite for the most beautiful woman on earth for marriage, Aphrodite gave him Helen - thus kicking off the war and dragging in Odysseus.

And for the lust: War's often promoted as something that will make you complete. And because of that, many people think the best way to achieve your desires is to go out, fight in war, and come back as a war hero.

Speedynamo mentioned that their analysis hinged on there being a very close equivalent to the Trojan war. And there certainly is: the smoke war! While the specifics probably aren’t identical, there is a good chance that Outis’ experience was similar. Something was stolen (likely Old L Corp’s singularity?), and a deal/truce involving it dragged Outis into the war, where she believed she could complete herself by becoming a war hero.

It probably didn’t work out that way, though. So, how does Outis deal with it? With her resisting gloom... it seems like she doesn’t handle it. Gloom as a sin is all about stewing in your negative emotions, buckling under pressure, letting those emotions control you. And while we never see her express this directly, there are a few rare moments where she seems to show this side of herself - like when she tells Dongrang the calf will remember him, or in her sunshower EGO’s corrosion line (which is a topic for another time)

But, with her mask(s) on constantly, it’s not often that you see this side to her.

#limbus company #outis #outis lcb #sin analysis #if anyone happens to have thoughts or things to add do absolutely add them! #I fucking love speculation inject it directly into my brain #it is once again very late. writeup might be a bit rambly and nonsensical. but I ball!

[crippleprophet]

[ID: the “wait, it’s all [blank]” meme of one astronaut pointing a gun at the other, edited to read “wait, it’s all celiac?” / “always has been.” with the word celiac in a groovy pink font. end ID]

happy celiac awareness month 💓🖤💓 folks expressed interest in my #Controversial Opinion, so here we go:

as someone who “has” non-celiac gluten intolerance, i don’t believe it exists.

this, as with all of my diagnostic opinions, is built from both health research & sociology, specifically the genealogy of (my) disabilities – how the labels we use & the divides we create between diagnoses are socially constructed. conditions don’t announce themselves as discrete entities; instead, labels are given based on, at best, current medical understandings of symptoms + clinical visualization measures (imaging, bloodwork, genetic testing, etc). conditions that were once considered two separate things may eventually be restructured under the same diagnostic label, & what was once considered one singular disease may be divided into separate categories, in response to new information or the new recognition / respect of existing information.

the issue with this system, though – with access to healthcare which is predicated upon diagnosis, which is itself predicated on checklists of symptoms & clinical visibility – is that we don’t know shit. our bodies are not required to present symptoms in accordance with the ICD 10, & chronic illnesses are very much an “ask four doctors, get five answers” situation.

for example: without any of my symptoms, imaging, or bloodwork changing, i’ve been diagnosed with active ankylosing spondylitis, ankylosing spondylitis that is in remission, fibromyalgia, & spondyloarthropathy. the only difference is the doctors: their belief or lack thereof in my symptoms, their familiarity with current research, & the diagnostic systems they abide by. under the NHS, it was definitionally impossible for me to have ankylosing spondylitis that was not visible on an MRI, therefore i must have been in remission, even as my symptoms were just as debilitating as before & treatable by immunosuppressants.

how this pertains to celiac: as with all chronic illnesses, symptoms of celiac disease are a broad spectrum. some people have severe growth impairment from a young age; others may only have minor skin manifestations. other common symptoms are vague & potentially attributable to any chronic illness, such as fatigue, depression, & gastrointestinal issues. crucially, though, damage to the small intestine is still occurring even in people with celiac who do not flare after consuming gluten.

following this,

the diagnosis of non-celiac gluten intolerance has nothing to do with symptom presentation or severity. it doesn’t even mean there is no clinically visible damage to the small intestine. rather, it just means you didn’t pass the test:

in my case, not only was the (notoriously unreliable) antibody blood test negative, but so were subsequent tests for the genetic markers associated with celiac.

two people with the same exact experiences can get put into two different boxes, solely based on bloodwork – but that’s not how genetics works. it’s pretty much impossible that only those two markers dictate whether or not someone has celiac, or any given disease, because genetics are infinitely more complex than that; equally, plenty of autoimmune disorders can have a genetic component but are not exclusively found in people with that particular marker (ankylosing spondylitis & HLA-B27, for example).

therefore, i firmly believe non-celiac gluten intolerance is celiac disease, just influenced by other genetic factors and/or antibodies we haven’t yet identified.

there are a whole host of issues created by the false divide of celiac vs non-celiac gluten intolerance, certainly including things i’ve never considered, but here are a few examples of what i refer to as diagnostic violence, the physical & social consequences of these forms of categorization:

celiac disease increases people’s risk for small bowel cancer. but if it’s been determined by the medical establishment that according to their criteria, you don’t have celiac disease, then you won’t receive cancer screening.

since a food intolerance is not considered an autoimmune disease, there is no medical evidence of an underlying cause of arthritis, for example, making it that much harder for people to receive diagnosis & treatment for autoimmune symptoms.

diagnostic paperwork & a letter from a doctor is almost always required to receive accommodations, & food-related accommodations are notoriously difficult to obtain at universities which require the purchase of a meal plan without sufficient gluten-free options, for example.

as a response to the dangerous ableism permeating societal attitudes toward gluten-free food, many people (diagnosed) with celiac fall back on communicating the seriousness of their needs at the expense of their undiagnosable peers. “it’s not just an intolerance!” i read over & over – never mind that gluten made me so sick i lost a significant amount of weight, my hair fell out, i had signs of multiple vitamin deficiencies, & i could only keep down liquids.

this is honestly the most blatant example i’ve come across of the complete arbitrariness of diagnostic categories, but it’s far from the only one, & i’d love to hear other folks’ controversial opinions – what physical disabilities do you tell people you have without a diagnosis? do you consider yourself to have that condition, or is this just for expediency of communication? how does your undiagnosability affect your interactions with community formed around that diagnosis?

your experiences are real, your symptoms are serious, & it is not your fault that white supremacy demands a categorizability which all bodies inherently fail. join the club – we’ve got plenty of gluten-free snacks. 💓🖤💓

#celiac #celiac disease #dietary restrictions #gluten intolerance #gluten free #sociology #disability studies #diagnosis is a form of violence #abolish the clinic #mac.txt #image described

[mioyeo]

8 makes 1 Team

No matter how different, without one of us there is no 8 makes 1 Team

Synopsis : In which 8 boys build a friendship despise of their differences with the help of a psychiatrist

Pairing : psychiatrist! Reader x Ateez (for now )

Themes : angst , mental struggles, fears , Disorders etc

Warnings : this chapter includes mentions of , slight angst , anxiety disorder , sign language , mentions of lazy workers , a little crying, please tell me if I forgot something , and I’m not romanticizing Disorders in anyway and this is pure fiction meaning this doesn’t represent Ateez in any type of way

And I would like to apologize and just like to explain that after I post the chapters of you guys getting to meet the patients (Ateez ) there will be back stories as to why they are where they are and etc , besides I do my research before writing about these disorders and other things

Word count : 0,9k

MEETING MINGI

𝗣𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟬𝟴𝟰𝟴

𝙉𝙖𝙢𝙚 : 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞

𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 : 𝗔𝘂𝗴𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝟵, 𝟭𝟵𝟵𝟵

𝗛𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 : 𝟭,𝟴𝟯𝗺

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀 : 𝗗𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 , 𝗦𝗲��𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 , 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁-𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 , 𝗣𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗰 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳: 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 , 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮

She walked straight into the room after the guard let her inside

There sat a ginger boy in his bright yellow pajamas watching as the rain drops fell against the window outside and slid down

Y/n approached and made her presence known to the boy who's eyes widened

' Hey , how are you doing today ? '

She signed and smiled softly as he started to smile back

' Hello, are you here to take me outside ? '

He signed back and smiled more brightly

' Yes , I guess you must've been waiting for someone to finally take you outside ? '

' Yes , I really want to go out even though it's raining and the benches will probably be wet '

' Oh , look it just stopped what a wonder '

She smiled and waved him over to go outside

' I've never seen you before , are you new ? '

' Yeah , I just got transferred here a week ago '

The boy grabbed her hand as other patients started to stare making him uncomfortable

' Please don't mind them , all that matters now is you getting fresh air and relax "

' Also id like to know your name so I can speak more comfortably to you if that's ok '

' My name is Mingi and you ? '

' I'm Y/n nice to meet you Mingi '

They both reached outside where the weather was rather chilly after raining for a while

' I love to be outside it makes me happy , but I'm also afraid of the world outside the walls of my room where I know I'm on my own '

The boy sighed and stuck his hands into the pockets of his pajama

' Your not on your own , I'm here now to help you get better so you can fearlessly walk out of here and enjoy your live '

' Do you think I'll ever be able too ? '

' With a lot of help and confidence you for sure will ,  trust me I know that you can '

' Are you going to be here everyday ? '

' Yeah don't worry I will only leave when your fully ready to be discharged '

He smiled holding out his pinky after signing something

' Do you promise that you'll never leave me ? '

' I promise you that I won't leave you '

The boy squealed and sat down patting the dry bench that was under the roof

' I don't know what I will do when I get out of here ? will I be able to manage alone ? '

' Will I even be able to live in peace after what happened ? Can I trust myself to do well '

He looked worried as he played with his fingers

' Mingi, you'll heal and grow at your own pace , as the time goes by you'll be fine '

' Really ? I don't know what it is like to- '

' Mingi let's not make you sad on talking about these things , you will make it and I'm sure of it I'll make you realize how amazing you are '

He sighed and played with his fingers before signing something again

' Im sorry I just worry to much '

' It's ok to worry Mingi , but for now let's go back inside ok ? '

He smiled and stood up grabbing her hand which she of course didn't mind at all

' Did you know their going to be serving chicken nuggets as the letter M tomorrow ?! '

He signed excitedly as they passed the menu frame that showed them the meals for tomorrow

Mingi nodded flashing his gummy smile

' You seem exited to eat it don't you ? '

‘ it’s my favorite of all time ’

' Well let's get you tucked in so you can sleep '

She walked him inside  his room after the guard let them back in

' It was nice outside I feel better '

' I'm sure you do , Goodnight Mingi I'll see you tomorrow on Breakfast time ok ? '

Before she could turn and go out he made a noice making her turn around to look at him

" C-C-Can I-I g-get a good night K-Kiss ? "

He was fighting to bring words out and started to cry when she hadn't approached him

" Mingi did you just talk to me ? "

She smiled and approached him slowly

' I shouldn't have talked you probably think I sound annoying'

He signed afraid to say something again

" Hey , I've never thought that "

She squatted beside his bed and stroked his hair while she looked at him with a smile

" I'm glad you talked, because I actually wanted to start speech therapy with you soon but since your trying to talk to me I am happy we are making a huge progress "

' Your not mad at me for talking? ‘

" No I actually want you to talk to me Mingi and know why you decided to talk to me "

' The others just say that they don't care if I talk or not they'll get something regardless and you seem to care a lot about my well-being "

" What did they say they'll get ? "

He started rubbing his three fingers together in a circular motion

" So They don't care about your progress but the income they'll get "

She sighed but looked at him with a smile

" You don't have to worry anymore you are my patient and no one else's anymore alright ? "

He nodded before slipping into his covers after she placed a gentle kiss to his forehead making him relax with the assurance that she would come back

Mission getting to know patient 0848 done

#ateez #ateez angst #ateez atiny #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez imagines #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez wooyoung #ateez yeosang #ateez yunho #ateez x reader #angst with a happy ending #atiny #fluff #mingi angst #mingi fluff

[lemmetreatya]

In Words I struggle to Express — Bassists!Onyankopon x Singer!fem Reader

➡️ synopsis: the launch party went absolutely great and the after partys going to be even better! but somehow, it was a certain someone’s presence you were banking on in order for the night to truly be a success.

➡️ word count: 2.3k

➡️ content: no warnings

➡️ author’s note: fuck. okay. this is…very very self indulgent and basically based off our silly little mmbcu (dont ask) so ive tried to take out all the stuff that needs context so everyone can read it without too much issue. however for clarities sake: reader is in a girl group (called MMB) whilst reiner (drummer), zeke (vocalist), jean (vocals/guitar) and onyankopon (bassist) are in a band. at this point of time, Ony and reader aren’t in an established relationship.

if anything, id like to thank @pisspope for coming up with this specific idea earlier this week. i hope you know it’s rotted my brain ever since. thanks.

It was a success.

After months of constant tweaking, track ditching, debating lineups and self-doubt in your artistry — at final last: You had performed your album in full for your ceiling-packed launch party of family, friends and industry names alike.

Despite the shortcomings that came along with it, you hope the album lands well as it goes public tomorrow. Your band members have done their best in assuring you of it’s legendary status (“It literally serves cunt, you’ll be fine.”) and so there was only room for you to have faith that it’d do numbers — even if it was a diversion from your usual group's musical sound.

But even now, as the dregs of adrenaline still coarse through your veins, it’s just you left alone in the green room. You were only in the process of changing outfits, silk pink gown snuggly sat on your frame, but it was the creepinks of wallowing unfulfillment that somehow found its way into your heart.

Your band members and their other halves have graciously said that they’d set forwards on to the afterparty. Something about being ready to welcome you when you eventually do enter the venue where the after party was being held. You were okay with that — and thankful that they were thinking of you in that regard — but since it now left you alone with your own thoughts and own reflection in the mirror, you could feel your performing high start to come down and realisation kick in. That ultimately, despite the many wins you’ve received tonight, you were still alone.

“Can I come in?”

Rather than it being the knock, it was the steady voice you were oh so used to that reeled you out of your trance, your eyes finally locking back into focus. As you turn your head away from your reflection and into his direction, you could automatically feel your heart pick up pace.

“Well, doors open and you’re already halfway in so…”

A breathy excuse of a laugh leaves your throat — a sorry attempt at making yourself seem more pious for him than you actually were — but it was absolutely no help at all. Within his presence, you only ever felt more anxious than you should.

Onyankopon tries his best to force a laugh back but it doesn’t translate well. It seemed pained, even more forced than yours, and so you had to avert your eyes —  Save yourself from reading into something you didn’t want to.

You had to do that more for you than for him anyways. Because it’s been iffy with Onyankopon these past few months and with how he’s been treating you.

Not that you were complaining; He was a man who treated you to nice things and valued your opinion. A man who understood when you needed to be handled or when you could handle your own. A man who also understood your craft and was more than happy to aid his own. It was all well and good between the both of you and he was a gentleman wrapped in one. Only issue is that Onyankopon has never clarified what the fuck you two were.

Which, in itself, was off-putting. But concerning he had so much creative process on your album? (Actually, most of his band did, but since you possibly liked him just a tad bit better, his efforts were well more noticed) And considering you had to stick so many unsolicited hard hours alongside him? And keeping in mind how you were practically eye fucking him from the stage half the time you were performing your album — the sultry songs all directed at him?! You figured he’d somehow get the hint that you were open, willing, waiting for him to make a move.

As he cautiously took further steps into the room, you wonder if your requested audience would result in pushing him to make that move.

“I won’t take up too much of your time.” He hums with one arm suspiciously behind his back. 

He attempts to clear his throat yet he’s unable to do so the first time. It takes him several goes, a cough and a bat at his chest, before he’s able to achieve his goal. By now he just feels stupid, fumbling something as simple as this in front of you but he chooses to champion on.

You however, can’t help but find it endearing.

“No, you’re good. Still got a few minutes till we’re heading to the Ritz for the after party.”

You turn around in your chair, silk gown that crosses over the intersection of your chest one tug away from being labelled ‘provocative’. Unintentionally, but definitely welcomed.

“You coming, right?”

And you know you’ve tempted him — far more than you should be — because Onyankopon’s eyes automatically wander to the exposed skin of your chest. Stare locked on for several seconds before he’s forced to recognise his error and flick his eyes back up to meet yours.

“I…not this time.” He clears his throat again. “Which is mainly why I wanted to come see you now since I won’t see you after this.”

“Oh…”

You try your best not to look disappointed; for your shoulders not to sag and your bottom lip to stay free of being snagged between your teeth but it’s inevitable to stop the way your heart sinks halfway down your chest and your gut wretches inwards.

Right, of course. He was a busy man.

In your head, you know he probably had good reason to skip out on this big night of yours, but you can’t help the small teasing voice that reminds you that every one of his bandmates found a way to clear their schedules in order to make the party tonight. Everyone but him.

Subconsciously you tug the material of your gown over your chest.

“Maybe next time then.” You feign. Suddenly you don’t feel enthusiastic for your own event.

Onyankopon knows he’s fucked up your mood and he’s mentally kicking himself for doing so. Personally, he wasn’t going to say anything— just not show up and let you enjoy your time without him. But it’s Reiner, the drummer of their band, who nudged him to at least apologise for not coming.

Actually, Reiner nudged him to say a lot more than just his apologies for not being able to make the after party. He had berated Onyankopon in wisdolic manner about asking you out properly as opposed to keeping you exclusively on his arm. A proverb about ‘hope deferred making the heart sick’, “And you don’t want her to be sick because of you, do you?” He warned. 

In all honesty, he didn’t hate what Reiner was saying. He really did want to make a move on you! And he genuinely had the intention to as well. He also thought it’d be ideal to ask you out considering he was very much planning on taking you to go meet his parents soon but…

It just wasn’t the right time.

“It’s never the right time, is it?” Says a more nihilistic voice in his head, but he ignores it for sanity’s sake.

Onyankopon shuffles his footing.

“I’m sorry. Something really important popped up and you know I’d usually be there and…Look, I just wanted to come see you and mention you were really great out there. I know we, well, more you, worked really hard on this album and all but I genuinely just want to say that I’m really, really, proud of you.”

There’s a twitch of recognition on your face but the man’s rambled words did nothing to lighten your mood. You only turn your head back to your reflection in the mirror.

“Thank you, Onyankpon.”

Okay, you’re using his full name. That’s how he knows you’re upset at him.

Now he’s regretting even coming here. Onyankopon doesn’t want to go round blaming Reiner for your lack of reaction to him but deep down, he knows that’s all him. He knows that either way, mentioned or not, his absence would have upset you. He doesn’t want to now give you even more reason to be upset so he guesses he should start wrapping this up. 

“Congratulations on the album launch. That was the main thing I wanted to say. I should have started with that first…”

With an outstretched arm from behind his back, Onyankopon offers you a box of luxury chocolates and a freshly picked bouquet he could fit all in one hand. In all honesty, he would have definitely gotten you something bigger, better than you could have ever imagined! 

But, he just didn’t have the time. 

“You never have the time—“ “Shut up. I know.” The voice in his head is cut short. 

However, contrary to the heart felt gift, it seems your attention can no longer be brought. Despite his presentation, your expression is fixed and occupied on your reflection. Onyankopon suddenly wonders whether you were always this down when he wasn’t around. 

You sniff once but not because any tears were about to grace your face. 

“Thanks.” You say without looking back at him. “You can put ‘em over there with the others.”

Onyankopon’s gaze follows where your eye line draws to within the mirror. 

Sure enough, towards the side of the room there's a table where a mountain of gifts, flowers and congratulatory efforts lay. Onyankopon takes two steps towards it before sheepishly laying down his now rather measly looking present within the only sliver of table available. 

If he didn’t feel so out of depth with you, he would have dryly laughed at how low effort his offering was in contrast to Jean’s, his band’s guitarist. 

As he could see, the man had brought you an expensive bag bouquet — a gift extravagant enough to take up half the wall behind it. There was even a large bottle of champagne and a D’usse that tagged along with it and a card that had your stage name curved in beautiful calligraphy. 

You and Jean didn’t share a relationship anywhere as near as efficient as you and Onyankopon’s to warrant this type of gift, but he guesses his bandmate took great pride in the help he had on your album. Onyankopon even feels a sense of irate jealousy as he remembers how the two of you danced back-to-back on stage as Jean played his guitar solo during your final song. 

His throat runs dry at memory recall of the performative sight. Surely, all of that was to provoke him. 

“Sorry.” You suddenly blurt out and Onyankopon’s attention is instantly brought back to you — the physical you. 

“I kinda need to get ready now. Vans almost in front.” You drastically avoid his eye contact. “If I could just have these last few minutes alone that’d be great.”

With your last sentence mumbled and your hands playing at your gown, he knows you’re not telling the whole truth but he was honestly out of his depth here. All Onyankopon could do was fulfil your wishes. 

“O-oh! Oh, sure! Sure, yeah I’ll let you…I’ll let you get to it.”

With almost bashful demeanour, Onyankopon backs away from the table and makes a beeline towards the door. 

But it feels wrong. It feels incomplete. 

It’s not like he wanted to force himself against your boundaries but he just knows that if he leaves now without saying anything — he might just wound your ebbing relationship beyond repair. 

In some sort of divine intervention, Reiner’s words about not being the ‘hope deferred’ that resulted in making you sick, kicked in. As soon as the phrase comes to him, a looped smile starts to grow onto his face. 

“Now's the time!” His inner head voice says and for once, he lets it speak. 

Stopping in his tracks, Onyankopon mentally gears his courage up before turning on his heels and blurting out the first thing that came up his throat.  

“Hey, uh…look, I really do feel bad about not being able to make tonight. I wanna make it up to you so how’s your availability for the day after tomorrow?”

You’re surprised by his offer but you don’t wholly show it. It’s the way you pretend that his preposition didn’t excite you that made Onyankopon want to burst out in laughter. You were so cute when you were trying to be aloof. 

“Depends.” You shrug as your eyes actively avoid his. “I have an early morning promo interview for the album and my evenings fully booked.”

Onyankopon enthusiastically nods. 

It made sense you were busy concerning the work needed to be done for your album drop but Onyankopon was determined. Onyankopon wanted to make this work! 

“Okay, that’s fine. How’s lunch time for you?”

There is a look of ponder on your face and a sparkle in your eye. You roll your lips in contemplation before quote mark nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Relatively free.” You quip. 

Yes!

“Great! Leave it open for me. I’ll take you out on a date.”

Onyankopon is pumped enough that he’s already heading out the green room and so you get up from your chair to shout after him.

“Wait— Ony, to where?”

The man turns round to face you, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. Not the most infectious smile but it’s his and so automatically, you’re drawn to it. 

“Don’t worry about that. Just dress comfortably. I’ll pick you up from whatever studio you’re recording at.” He says before making his way out. 

With a huff of disbelief, you sag back down into the chair. 

It wasn’t unbelievable that within the spur of the moment, Onyankopon had thought up a date to take you to. He was like that — It was kinda his thing — but there was something about this particular mystery date that you found yourself looking forward to. 

The same smile from before grew larger on your face and your reflection in the mirror relayed the same message. 

Suddenly, you didn’t feel so down anymore.  

#don’t expect anyone to read this but i feel it was too indulgent for the gc 😭😭 #onyankopon aot #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon #attack on titan #aot #aot x black reader #aot x reader

[kiribaku-queen]

His Hidden Desire [4]

Romance, adventure, drama, angst

Bakugou x reader, Todoroki x reader

Word Count: 6.1K

A/N: Wow, hello! I'm back! Just an update: I am now living in Japan! So ive been off for a while trying to get packed, get situated in this new country. I am 2 weeks into my new job but it looks like i can work on my writing on my down times. to make up for how long ive been away, i am back with a fairly long chapter. id love to know your thoughts and if you would like to be added on the tag list! <3

Summary: Being engaged to a Prince that doesn’t want you was such a classic move, but it was your duty to do so. But that didn’t mean you could be your own personality. You wanted something outside of the palace walls, something that would excite your world, something more. The only solution to that was to… travel with pirates?!

[prev] [next]

“What’s the mission?” you ask, looking away and folding your arms across your chest.

You would soon find out from the fact Captain Bakugou dragged you out to where all the other crew members were, waiting for the meeting to begin. You tried avoiding any form of eye contact, suddenly embarrassed by what happened earlier. Not like you cared what they thought about you, but you’d rather not hear about what they had to say. The Captain clears his throat as he stations himself in front of the crowd, getting everyone’s attention on him.

“Alright, men. New job, pretty simple: returning stolen jewelry.” That’s it? That’s the mission the Captain begged on his knees for? It seemed like a simple enough task that you didn’t need to be involved in at all. But Bakugou continued. He lifted up the scroll, given to him by the hawk, showing a mugshot of the man in question.

“Suspect: Sebastian Grey. Pretty famous here, a member of the Phantom Knights. Mid 40’s,  5’9”, brown hair that’s starting to gray on the sides,” Bakugou read off the scroll, having no care in the world.

“Fat,” someone chimed in, causing a bit of laughter to erupt from the crowd of men. Disregarding the immature behavior, Bakugou continued on with the suspect's profile.

“Notorious for stealing and blowing the money on many, many… women,” Bakugou finished, glancing up in your direction. You gulped. Great, so this old man is crazy about women. “That’s where you come in.”

“What do you want me to do?” you asked, chills ran up your spine just imagining what you had to do, letting your imagination run wild. And not in a good way.

“Your job is to get close to him and find out where the watch is. Find out, report back to us and we’ll do the rest.” Bakugou explained. It sounded simple enough, but was life ever that simple? Especially on this ship with this crew? You took another look at the hideous man before making your decision. And your decision was…

“No.” you said.

“What?” Bakugou asked, baffled, not thinking you were going to decline. “I thought you were already on board?”

“I only came to see what the mission was. I didn’t give you a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. And after finding out what you were going to put me through, my answer is ‘no’.” you explain.

“I have no one else to do this,” Bakugou almost sounded desperate. True, there was no other lady on this ship but that doesn’t mean you have to automatically help them.

“Get one of your men to disguise themselves,” you suggested.

“We already tried that,” Kirishima spoke up. “That actually gets us in more trouble.” Everyone snickers and looks at Denki who covers his face in embarrassment.

“I don’t need to be reminded,” he mumbles, face as red as the sun. No way, you thought. Now that they pointed it out, Denki in a blonde wig isn’t a bad sight.

“You’re one of my men now, you have no choice but to do this,” Bakugou spoke up, deciding for you. You scoffed at him, actually putting your foot down and standing up to him.

"Again with these commands! I am NOT one of your men who you can just boss around!” you had to remind him, raising your voice above his. Bakugou opened his mouth to say something snarky, but didn’t want to go down this road again. As much as he didn’t want to, he didn’t talk back. He sighs, putting his hands on his hips, not knowing what to do.

“What do you want me to do now?” he asks while ruffling his hair in annoyance. “I already begged on my knees for you.”

“Do it again,” you tell him. “In front of everyone. Do it.” With no hesitation, one knee falls to the floor, followed by the other one.

“I need your help. Just this once, will you help me?” Bakugou humiliates himself in front of his men for your sake. This man continues to surprise you and you hate to admit it, but it’s a little admirable. You pretend to think, looking up with your lips pursed.

“On one condition,” you say. “You will treat me with respect. That is all I ask for.” The crew glances from you, to their Captain, then back to you. The Captain was real quiet, not being able to say anything. And you thought he was going to decline your offer. Tough luck. Then they will have to find someone else. You were about to head back to your cabin and then you heard his soft words.

“I’ll do my best,” he murmurs. Bakugou wasn’t feeling too good, but you showed a triumphant smile, one that was almost too prideful. That answer satisfied you enough that you agreed to do this silly mission. How bad could it be?

After long, long weeks of being in the ocean, you finally spotted land from where you were on the ship. You couldn’t get more excited! How you missed being on the sturdy ground and being surrounded by people other than these pirates. Although, it wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. You thought pirates were dirty and smelly, living and eating like pigs. If you were caught anywhere near a pirate, you’d end up smelling exactly like them for the rest of your life… or so you’ve read. But surprisingly, the boys kept their spaces neat. It was messy from time to time, but overall, they presented themselves pretty neatly for being pirates. Even if life on the ship wasn’t as bad as they said in the books, you still couldn’t wait to feel the ground underneath your feet. You needed a change of environment and a possible escape route. Your end goal never escaped your mind. You just needed a perfect time to do it.

The giant ship reached the end of the port, letting down its heavy anchor into the ocean tides. They finally let down the heavy, wooden board, allowing everyone to get off the ship. Step by step, you made your way out into freedom, stretching your arms wide and feeling the open air. Giddiness riled inside you, as well as everyone else as they were all discussing what they were going to buy or do with the allowance they were given by the Captain.

“Don’t get distracted. Remember to meet up at the tavern so we can get this over with,” Captain Bakugou reminded his crew but they looked too busy already running down the streets with each other. You, on the other hand, were looking around, fascinated to be out of the country for the first time. This looked nothing like your country. The colors were more vibrant, there was more use of patterns and textures. The feel of the place was completely different and you couldn’t believe you actually liked it. Before you could get too absorbed into your surroundings, someone took your arm, taking you by surprise. You jumped, looking behind you, only to see the Captain tying a rope over your wrist.

“What are you doing?” you exclaimed, trying to get your wrist out of his grasp, but he was holding onto you firmly.

“Making sure you don’t try to run away,” he nonchalantly says. Then he shows you his wrist that showed the other end of the rope tied on his wrist.

“This is so ridiculous,” you pointed out.

“A precaution,” he described. You just rolled your eyes at him. Well, so much for your escape plan. But regardless, you didn’t want to spend all your free time with this guy. He probably wasn’t even going to do anything fun. It was probably going to be boring until the mission started.

“I thought you were going to start showing me some respect,” you muttered under your breath, but enough for Bakugou to hear.

“After the mission is successful, then I’ll follow through,” he said.

“That wasn’t part of the agreement,” you argued.

“Never said it didn’t,” he argued back. Shit, he got you there. So, you had no choice but to stay with him the entire time. Great.

“What are we going to do now, oh scary Captain! Sit back and do nothing while everyone else is having fun?” You couldn’t be more sarcastic. Bakugou wasn’t quick to answer you. He started to walk. You were reluctant to, but because of the damn rope that was tied to both of you, you let him take you who knows where.

“We’re going shopping,” he announced. Now that perked your ears.

“Shopping?”

Bakugou was lazily slouching down on one of the couches that was provided for him while he waits for you to try on this dress. But it was taking you an abnormally long time and his patience was running low.

“Are you done yet,” he finally asks, after waiting for an eternity.

“These corsets are not easy to put on, you know!” you bite back, moving the curtain aside, revealing a brand new dress. And not the prettiest dress you might add. The dress reached past yours knees, frills everywhere, your curves were nowhere to be found. The color was horrendous, not suiting your skin tone at all. You don’t even know where he found this dress to begin with. And Bakugou seemed to agree with you. A scowl appeared on his face, like he couldn’t look at you a second more.

“Hideous,” he commented.

“Wow, thanks,” you said, sarcastically. From the couch, he threw you another dress. You barely caught it due to his lack of throwing skills.

“Try it,” he simply demanded. Yeah, like you couldn’t guess what he wanted you to do. You shot him a dirty look before going right back into the changing room. It was better than the first one, no doubt. The dress was shorter in the front, above the knees this time and had a longer back. You wore a white blouse underneath that had puffy sleeves. The corset wasn’t too tight but at least showed your figure this time. Although, it was very modest in the bust area, covering everything. It was nice? Nicer than the one you owned currently. But for Bakugou, he didn’t seem satisfied.

“Not enough,” he said, throwing you another dress. Annoyed, but didn’t say anything, you went right back in. You put the dress up to your body and tilted your head in surprise. Wow, this was…

You pulled back the curtain for the last time, looking away from the staring man with a shy stance, slowly trying to cover yourself. The dress was much shorter than the other dresses you’ve worn, probably in your entire life. It stopped right below your butt. If you bent down, you were sure everyone could see what they aren’t supposed to see. The corset was properly tight, accentuating your curves in all the right places. The sleeves were full length and puffy which was nice because of the coverage. But the bust area… it was tight and low, the mounds of your breasts were practically spilling out. You felt so exposed that you didn’t know what to cover up first. And it didn’t help that the pirate in front of you was full on stare mode.

“Well… aren’t you going to say anything?” your face was beet red, quickly wanted his opinion so that you could go ahead and take this off. Hopefully he would say no and just give you another dress to wear, but on the contrary.

“Yeah, I’d fuck you,” he nodded in approval and got up. You couldn’t even get a word in when he put a handful of coins on the counter and took your hand, leading you out the door.

“Shouldn’t I change first?” you asked, pulling your arm back so he stopped in his tracks.

“You’re wearing it out. Let’s go,” he says, and leads you back out into the streets, not forgetting about the rope. You really thought he forgot about it but nope. He was already tying your hands together.

“Is this really necessary?” you complained.

“Yes.” Was his only response. You could mumble and grumble all you wanted, but Captain was being so stubborn!

“But it’s too tight,” you complained under your breath. Bakugou paused, and glanced at the redness of your wrists. They were red and swollen from the rope rubbing against you. Bakugou sighed and retied the rope, making it much looser but enough where you couldn’t slip your hand through.

“Better?” he asks, while tying his own wrist.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. That was only nice of him to do that. You didn’t think he could take into account your feelings ever. He didn’t care about you. Especially not since of all the backtalking you’ve done to him in the past couple days. So why would he do such a kind gesture to you?

“Ready to go?” Bakugou asked. You were so in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized he was already done tying his wrist together.

“For what?” you asked.

“It’s time,” he hinted and immediate nerves hit your stomach.

“Shit, already?” you were distressed. Bakugou looked a little worried but there was no time for pep talk. If you guys don’t move fast, they could miss their opportunity window.

After a short walk, both you and Bakugou entered the busy tavern. The place was crowded with people, you two almost couldn’t fit in. You two had to stick really close together, basically body on body. Which was probably better because it was easier to fit in and easier for Bakugou to go over last minute reminders for you. Bakugou placed a hand behind you and brought you closer to him.

“What are you-” you were about to push him away but you felt the pressure from your wrists being released. Bakugou was taking the rope off.

“Easy,” Bakugou spoke in your ear. He could speak as loud as he wanted because the surrounding space was already drowning you guys out. “Target, far left corner.” Your eyes scanned the sea of people and surely enough, in the far left corner of the room, sitting at the bar was the man in the photographs. He was already drunk, having several beer glasses already empty next to him. “Remember what to do?” he asks you.

“Flirt my way to get him to tell me where the watch is,” you repeated what they wanted you to do.

“Good girl,” he praised you, which lowkey made you feel good about yourself. Maybe this task wouldn’t be as hard as you were making it out to be. “The boys are everywhere. If anything happens, one of us will come get you.” He reassured you. It was true. Anywhere you looked, you found someone from the crew there. They were all dispersed in different parts of the tavern. Some were in the back, simply watching. Some went to the bar to get a drink in disguise. Some were sitting at a table on standby. Since they were everywhere, you felt reassured that one of the boys would come rescue you if you needed it.

“What does the watch look like?” you asked.

“Big, golden watch with diamonds encrusted all around the band,” Bakugou described.

“Pretty fancy,” you muttered. Even for someone of royalty status. Then this watch must be worth lots of money. No wonder they took this job. Well, it was now or never. You took a deep breath and made your way over to the man. Bakugou watched from afar, giving a look to a couple of the guys, purposely telling them with his eyes to stay close to you. As you walk closer to your target, you notice some of the guys, Kirishima and Denki in particular. You tried to give them a nervous smile, but all you noticed from them were their dropped jaws, hanging off their face. You rolled your eyes. Men.

You sat next to the man in question. So far, he hadn’t noticed you in the slightest. And honestly you were okay with that for now. He reeked of alcohol. He’s belligerent, laughing and talking obnoxiously loud. You raised your hand, getting one of the bartender's attention.

“One beer, please,” you ordered. You had to blend in some way, not just sit at the bar doing nothing. A jug of beer was placed in front of you and boy, was it a hefty jug. Upon receiving your large order, then did you finally get some of the man’s attention.

“Sure you can hold your liquor, little one?” he turns to you, giving you some attention. You smirked. You grabbed the jug with both hands, downing the beer in one go, proving him wrong. With a loud thud to the table, you slammed the empty glass down with a satisfying burp to come with it. Now the man’s attention was fully on you. And interestingly enough, so was the Captain from across the room.

“Name’s Sebastian. Sebastian Grey.” He introduced himself, offering his hand.

“(y/n),” you introduced yourself, taking his hand out of kindness. You were about to take your hand back, but he gripped it a little tighter, bringing your hand to his lips, and placing the wettest, nastiest kiss on the back of your hand. It took everything in you to not have a physical reaction of shivers. You took your hand back, giving Sebastian a fake smile before placing your hand behind you and aggressively wiped anything and everything off your hand. No matter how disgusted you were at the situation, the show must go on.

“What’s a handsome man like you doing here all alone!” you got closer to him, placing a flirty hand on his arm. “Allow me to join you for the night.” You insisted, sending him a playful wink and squishing your chest together, making your tits pop even more out of the shirt. You saw Sebastian glance down and lick his lips.

“Only if you allow me to indulge in this majesty of a sight,” he practically drooled over you. You wanted to scoff at how blunt he was. No manners of a gentleman at all. It truly disgusted you. And it was written all over your face. If you could, you’d turn around and walk right out of this place. But when you looked up, looking disgusted, you met eyes with the Captain and he was telling you to continue no matter what it took with his eyes. And so, you must continue.

“AHAHAHAHA! You are SO funny!” you faked an obnoxious laugh, slapping his arm. That seemed to really do it.

“Around round for me and the lady!” he announced to the bartender, waving his hand in the air. And with that, another glass of beer was thrown at you to chug down. The entire night, you boosted his ego. Telling him how he’s so funny and handsome, anything to make him laugh and feel good about himself. You watched as spit flew everywhere every time he talked. Every time he laughed, he’d bend back, exposing his stomach that overfilled under that small thing he called a shirt. You wondered how you were even able to stand such a man for so long. He was obnoxious, sexist, conceited, self-centered. Everything a woman wouldn’t want. Was this really the world you were living in? And he drank like that of a pirate. You would know. You were around them 24/7 lately. And he didn’t look a tad bit drunk. He kept drinking and drinking, but the alcohol wasn’t hitting him. It was like he was drinking water. You couldn’t drink anymore. You had to get information out of him fast.

“Tell me, what’s a handsome and hunky man like yourself doing with no ring around his finger?” you mentally rolled your eyes at yourself.

“Who needs a woman when you can have all the riches in the world!” he boasted.

“What could be more rich than the richness of love?” you batted your eyelashes. Gross! Were these words really coming out of your mouth? Where did you even come up with the words to even say this? You really should take up acting because right now, you were a totally different person that you didn't even know was hiding in you.

“I’ll show you,” he gets closer to you in a deep whisper, not preparing you for how dreadful and horrid his breath was. You had to suck in the air around you and hold your breath until he was out of your scent range. This was proven to be difficult because he was not separating from you any time soon. You watched as he took out something from his pocket, both hands covering the item, careful for no one to see. He brought it in front of him, both of your bodies shielding the item from all who was around you. Slowly, he opened the palm of his hands, unveiling a watch. A golden watch with a band that was encrusted with diamonds. Your jaw dropped open. That was…

“A watch that can fulfill the wish of any man or woman. A watch that can make you rich beyond your wildest imagination!” he fantasized. 

You couldn’t say anything. You continued to stare at the treasure in front of you. No shot he actually had it with him this entire time. And he was taking it out like no one else had their eyes out for this?! This man was a stupid man. Hopefully stupid enough that you could possibly grab it from him without him knowing. It wasn’t the plan and this wasn’t what you were supposed to be doing, but if it could get you the respect you’ve been looking for from the Captain and everyone else, you were going to risk it. 

You glanced up from Sebastian’s eyes to the watch, then back at him, slowly reaching for the watch while he was distracted in his silly stories. But everything backfired when you felt a large, sweaty hand creep up your thigh. Chills ran up the back of your spine, so much so that you had a physical reaction. Nothing you were doing tonight was part of the plan, but you were going to make sure that you weren’t going to have sex with this man. So, you tried backing away, moving your legs in the opposite direction, but he was surprisingly strong, overpowering you instantly. His grip tightened on your leg so the point where you couldn’t move.

“But now that I have the treasure, I wouldn’t mind now finding a lucky lady to join me on my riches,” he breathed down your neck, making you feel filthy and disgusting.

God, you wanted to escape. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t move. Was it because of his unruly grip or were you frozen in fear? Your eyes widened in fear and anxiety was bubbling up inside of you. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe and your mind wasn’t working anymore. Were you in trouble? What were you supposed to do again? What was your next move? None of the boys knew how distressed you were. Afterall, all the action was happening under the table, where they couldn’t see.

That’s when your eyes flickered across the room, desperately searching for familiar eyes if you could even concentrate properly. It was then, did you see a pair of electric, golden eyes. Your face was scrunched into distress and fear, a face he had never seen you make before. It didn't take him longer than a millisecond to react. He snapped up from his chair, tapping his mate next to him. They didn't have to exchange words for both of them to know what to do next. A cue was motioned the second they stood up and soon, everyone else’s attention turned to you. They got the hint. You needed help.

Denki shot a look at Bakugou. The Captain, who was slouching against the wall with his head tilted down, shot up with a mean frown. It didn’t take an idiot to understand that a rescue mission was on hand. Even the real idiot of the group could get that. The crew was making their way to you, but right when they had you in their grasp, other men in the tavern simultaneously got up and blocked every single one man of the crew.

At first, they thought it was some kind of coincidence. But when one of the pirates moved to get out of their way, the man blocking him moved with him. Shit. These weren’t just some random drunks. They were men of Sebastian. They were here all along, waiting for them. And they fell right in their trap.

“Best not get in the way,” Bakugou muttered to the oversized fellow standing in his way of you. 

“You should do the same,” the oversized fellow talked back. Bakugou didn’t like the man’s attitude, only furthering the Captain’s irritation.

“If you don’t want to make a scene, I suggest you sit back down and mind ya business,” Bakugou warned.

“I don't back down from a challenge,” the man sized him up. Bakugou smirked with a glistening eye.

“Is that so?” With a ‘shwing’ of his metal, Bakugou unshielded his sword, the tip right in between the eyes of his enemy. “Challenge accepted.” 

Desperate times call for desperate measures and that’s how desperate Bakugou was to get to you. Unsheathing his sword should have been the last resort, because look at the results of what happened. Those who were not from either party were now screaming and running away. The place was becoming chaotic, full of fear and danger. But now, they can get to the fun stuff.

On cue, his other men followed their Captain, taking out whatever weapon they concealed within their clothes and clashed with their enemies. The sound of metal hitting each other filled the air, screams of agony rang in your ears, and yet, you were still frozen where you were. Everyone right now was doing their job, you can’t just do nothing.

“Let go of me!” you decided to scream, reaching for Sebastian’s hand that was going higher and higher, but his grip was too tight for you to do any real damage.

“Come on, come upstairs with me,” he insisted, now leaning forward, looking as if to kiss you. But you kept bending back and back and back, closing your eyes, ready for the inevitable. Until you felt a significant amount of pressure finally being released off you. You peeked through the thick of your eyelashes to find a bush of blonde hair blocking your view.

“What the! Who the fuck are you!” your target is furious, demanding answers on why some random person was cockblocking him. When you were busy trying to get away from the creepy man, Bakugou was already fighting someone else. Needless to say, he wasn’t going to be able to get to you in time with this guy in the way. This guy was strong. No matter how much Bakugou was forcing him back, the guy was giving back with equal amounts of force. That’s it. He’ll just have to kill this man to make him get out of the way. Bakugou swung his sword up with all intention to unalive this man, when one of the other pirates slipped his way in front of Bakugou, clashing swords with their enemy. Reminding himself that he’ll thank him later, Bakugou quickly passes all the fighting, barely dodging the dangerous flying of metal to get to you.

So when he’s coming to you and sees Sebastian’s dirty hands all over you and your face is twisted in disgust, he doesn’t hesitate to grab the man’s arm and twist it backwards, causing Sebastian to cry in pain. The man was too busy trying to comfort his injured arm to see Bakugou grab your hand in the midst of his distraction.  To where? Bakugou didn’t know either. He just took your hand and ran until he finally found a door. Perfect escape route. Or so he thought.

When both of you ran through the door, it was not the outside breeze you were met with. Instead, you found yourselves in a small, concealed space with a dirty toilet and sink. 

“Shit,” Bakugou cursed under this breath. He quickly shut the door behind you and blocked it with whatever he could find. Running right behind you was Sebastian and he was right on your tail. Bakugou had to think fast. He quickly scanned the room, looking down and then up. Luck was on your side. There was a window leading straight out onto the streets. Bakugou climbed on top of the toilet and ran his shoulder into the window. 

“Shit, it’s stuck,” he grunted, still using all his force to break up the window over and over again. All you could do was watch anxiously on the side. The anxiety didn’t stop because all of a sudden, you heard banging on the other side of the bathroom door which made you scream in fright.

“Open up you coward!” Sebastian yelled. Even though there was something to block the door, with enough strength, he was able to get it slightly open with every shove.

“He’s coming in!” you cried, urging Bakugou to rush. And he was trying his best. Grunting with powerful shoves. At last, Bakugou managed to open the stubborn window and he made his way through the window and jumped down onto the busy night streets.

“Come on!” he called out to you. For a second, you hesitated. The thought of getting on that disgusting toilet was preventing you from escaping. But Sebastian pushed one last time, managing to open the bathroom door even more, allowing himself to slightly get in. That was enough to scare the shit out of you and you quickly rushed to get on the toilet and out the window. When you finally saw the outside streets, you were about to jump just like how the Captain did it. But Bakugou reached out his hand, waiting for you to take it. With no time to waste, you took it and with his other hand, grabbed your waist to hold you steady and prevent you from falling flat on your face. You stumbled at little, but Bakugou got you, pulling you into him when you fully got on the concrete floor. Being so close to his chest made you feel a little flustered but now was not the time to get caught in some childish feelings.

Still holding your hand, you ran away together. You didn’t know where and you didn’t care, as long as you got far away from Sebastian and his men as possible. Bakugou trusted in his men that they would take care of the mess they made. 

So, you ran and ran, until you were both out of breath. When you were at a safe enough distance, Bakugou pulled you into a dark and empty alleyway in case someone was still chasing you, you’d be able to hide. You allowed your back to rest against the cold, brick wall, your chest heaving up and down with deep and slow breaths. It almost hurt to even breathe with how much running you were doing. You had closed your eyes to concentrate on catching your breath but Bakugou had other plans. You shot your eyes open as he grabbed the side of your face and brought you closer to him. You opened your mouth, intending on asking what the fuck he was doing but he beat you to it.

“You okay?” he asks, like he was concerned. He talked as if he wasn’t running for his life just seconds ago. He wasn’t out of breath, he didn’t even look tired. For a second, you didn’t know how to respond to this version of the Captain. You were used to him being a stubborn, didn’t-care-about-anyone type of guy. And now, he looked so concerned and so worried. And to you out of all people?

“Ah… Mm, I’m fine,” you responded, now looking down at the ground because his stare was too intense. Bakugou sighed with relief but was quickly replaced with frustration. He backed off you to roughly ruffle his hair.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“It’s part of the job, right?” you tried to play it off like it was nothing, but it surely was not nothing. With all the adrenaline running through your veins, you hadn’t realized you were shaking. You had never gone through an experience quite like that before. And for someone to just touch you the way he touched you… you glanced down at your thigh, the exact position where his hands were, and you got chills. He wasn’t touching you anymore but you could still feel the weight on his palm slowly creeping up on you. No matter how many times you tried to wipe it away, that feeling never left you. There was a constant feeling of dirtiness that you couldn’t get rid of.

“No, no. Fuck! It wasn’t supposed to go that far. Shit, sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” he kept apologizing over and over again. Like his guilty conscience was taking over.

“It was my fault it went that far,” you admitted.

“It doesn’t matter. We were supposed to be there to get you out. We were supposed to protect you. Fuck… I-I was supposed to…” he trailed off, blaming himself for what happened. “It was your first mission. I should have paid more attention. I’m sorry…”

Ideally, it wasn’t the best first mission. And it definitely didn’t go as how you planned it in your head. But you were about to respond to the very distressed Bakugou, but then both of you heard screaming in the distance. You looked up and saw the rest of the pirate crew running your way… and more people behind them?

“Run! Get to the ship!” Kirishima yelled, waving his hands at you to get a move on. Bakugou cursed under his breath once again. You thought he was going to run without you, but he stuck his hand out.

“Come on,” he said more gently. You nodded in affirmation, taking his hand and he led you back in the direction of the ship.

You and the crew laid on the floor of the deck, exhausted for the night. It was a close call when everyone got on board. You barely managed to escape with Sebastian and his men right on your tails. You all watched as his men yelled at you guys from the dock, able to do nothing but scream and shout and express their anger while you managed to escape on water. They would have laughed and bragged in their faces, but the deep disappointment that everyone felt weighed heavy. They had failed their mission. They weren’t able to retrieve the watch that they so desperately needed. Bakugou stood in front of everyone with hands on his hips. No, he was not happy with the outcome but what could be done?

“I know what you’re all thinking,” he starts out. 

“We failed,” someone chirped up.

“Big time,” someone else chimed in. You looked around at all their discouraged faces. Their heads down in shame, some had their eyes covered. You’ve never seen them so down before. What was once a cheerful and energetic crew was now quiet and saddened. 

“We can still get it back,” Bakugou said. But that didn’t seem to encourage them at all. In fact, they were all negative about the fact.

“How! All his goons know who we are. There’s no way we can pull something like that off again, without getting caught.” Denki spoke up. 

“What plan did you have in mind?” Kirishima asked, trying to be optimistic. But you jumped up before Bakugou could say anything.

“We don’t need another plan,” you mention and you swear, everyone was looking at you like you were crazy.

“Yes, we do. We failed this time but that doesn’t mean we are giving up on the mission,” Bakugou explained. But no one was prepared for what you were about to do. You reached in your pocket and everyone’s eyes bulged out of their heads when they saw the gold watch being pulled. Bakugou grabbed the watch from you, bewildered, while the whole crew cheers in the background.

“How did you…”

“Ah, I grabbed it while he was distracted trying to kiss me,” you explained sheepishly. It was quick and it was a risky move, but you managed to pull it off. Partially another reason why they were after you and not just because a woman he wanted to sleep with got away. Bakugou smirked and looked at you very impressed. You were able to pull of something unimaginable. And for that, not only was Bakugou impressed, but now he wanted you as one of his men. He wanted you on the ship as a regular pirate.

A/N: love to hear your thoughts after a long time being away! I know this story isnt getting lots of traction or attention but im still going to finish this story till the end! I am also working on spicy one shot soon! With kirishima and denki ooooooh

Taglist: @superblyspeedydragon @pluviophilefangirl @chixkadee @kinba-ri @ahmya-4

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bnha imagines #bnha bakugou katsuki

[undertow-story]

PROLOGUE

SACHIEL

I’ve lived in this place for as long as I can remember now. Which is not very long in the scheme of things. I’ve been in the Undertow for at least a year and a half if I had to guess, but time doesn’t feel like it flows quite right down here.

My name is Sachiel… At least, this is the name I’ve given myself based off the ID I found in my pocket upon waking. I seem to have lost all memory of my former self, and given the information I have, I’m not from around here. If that wasn’t obvious enough, then I would have figured it out given the fact I am the only one of my kind.

I wish I knew what my kind was, admittedly. Claws. Fangs… Ears, cropped like that of the common mongrel leashed around by the thugs and bandits in this city. Tail and horns- piercing thin slitted eyes just like the creatures I hunt.

I must be a monster.

Not that it bothers me. It’s the only fathomable explanation I can assume anyway. I however, seem to be the only one capable of speech out of the creatures I’ve encountered so far. In this place, it’s kill or be killed obviously, as we’re overrun with horrific entities I cannot explain.

This world is best emphasized by the word ‘survive’.

Rather, uh… This sector is described that way. Look, I only know so much, but also it makes sense to me to write down the things I do know so far- in case my brain gets smacked around enough again to lose all the knowledge I’ve got.

The area I reside is called The Undertow, or just Undertow depending on who you talk to. We are the filth. Cast out from the glistening lights of the city above- we’re forced to live in the waste and squalor of the wealthy fucks put themselves above us. Our home is lit by neon, and is dark around every corner. Disease, Crime, Violence… it’s all rampant here. I have not yet seen the sun for more than 2 hours at a time. Which is unfortunate because the creatures residing here love the darkness. I feel pity for the people of this place. So many just trying to live their lives, get by…

Banished to this horrible place just because they’re not good enough by the standards of those above.

I don’t know the name of the place above us.

I’m not meant to. None of us are.

I saw it once from the outskirts when I left on a hit. The upper lands glow so blindingly bright, and it’s much smaller in comparison to the dredges below it. I personally don’t understand how they can live, I’d go blind. Y'know, how the pompous types are. They don’t care about us. The only time they need us is when they want someone dead…

Speaking of, that seems to be the case.

On a board bolted to a wall in the middle of a bustling market, Sachiel looks up from his book, closing it and putting it away as he takes a paper off the board, holding it in his rough hand. The paper reads: “Wanted: Hunter for removal of Important Persons, please send applications to xxxxx_xxx-x we await your chance to take on this ‘Golden Opportunity’.”

What specific wording.

“Reward: 10,000,000c”

Whoo, this guy must have really fucked up for them to ask a price like that.

Here, if you’ve got the skill then people will let you take on jobs for them… they generally involve killing. Usually it’s for monsters that rampage and cause destruction in specific sectors that threaten the foundations that hold the upper city aloft. Sometimes you get hits for persons- and other times you get hits for assholes like this. The ones up above.

I registered to be a Hunter some time back… maybe after a month of eating rats on the street. I decided I would rather at least be able to afford a beer here and there- maybe actual food instead of just whatever I could scrounge up. I don’t care to take on hits against persons- they don’t interest me… Humans aren’t fun to hunt. However, this is an awfully good deal. I could actually get an apartment instead of sleeping in whatever nearby dumpster I can find…

Never hurts to try I suppose.

His ears bent back, he headed off deeper into the city, clearly somewhere in mind.

Another day in paradise.

Tch-I gotta stop saying that it’s becoming a habit.

Next

#first proper post will be the prologue bc its allowed to exist

[cosmicgrapevine]

Tabby sat with her legs crossed, not daring to move a muscle. They were easily a thousand feet up at the moment. There was really nothing keeping her from falling to her death, other than her own stillness, but she felt safe anyway. Lynd steered, and she wrapped her arms over him, like they were sharing a Harley speeding down an empty highway. “Why do you think he didn’t rat on us?” She asked. “Spite, I imagine. Travis was his captor, not us.” Tabby turned the mirrors over; she was holding them so they wouldn’t slip out of Lynd’s coat. “We should just keep these. Hold them for ransom so Florentino will let you in.” “I would rather not try to extort the most powerful Warden in the country, but…hm. Never mind, I’m surely mistaken.” “No, keep going.” “It’s just…the words he used. I kept mulling them over last night. ‘No power on Earth’. ‘Out of my hands’. And even if a sailor cannot stop the tides, he can navigate them. Wardens choose their words carefully, just like everything else. Perhaps he is saying there is a path, but I must discover it on my own. But if it exists, it will be near impossible to find.” “Let’s say we find it. You make it to Kahoti, what’s first on your list?” “Well…you said Melanie is already attending school again. I would like to join her.” Tabby started laughing, so loud that she worried someone on the ground would hear. “Dude,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye, “You did not risk death for weeks on end just to go to fucking high school, gimme a break. Like, hold out for college, at least.” “Markstepper education is very informal, focused on survival and pragmatics. I know nothing of history or the sciences…I can barely read, surely you have noticed; I learned all those languages by speech alone. And I cannot even drive a car: the whole ride down, I felt so useless. Where else would I learn these things?” “Look, it’d be great if that’s how it worked, just show up and say ‘I need knowledge! Teach me!’ But it’s not. Even if they let you in without an ID and stuff, you’re gonna do things their way. Their classes, their rules, their system. And the other kids…” Tears flew from her lashes again, and not tears of laughter. “They’ll find whatever you hate about yourself and cut you with it until all that’s left is scars. Just for fun, just because they can. I’m sorry, but there’s no way they’ll accept you.” They were close to Kahoti now, its winding streets almost forming a pattern to her eyes, some small piece of Florentino’s Ward, before it slipped away again. What if this is the last time I see Lynd? She thought suddenly. Florentino doesn’t want me here; if Rita pushes him he’ll ship Dad and me back on the next flight out. She couldn’t let that be the last thing she said. “I—I mean, my last school was like that, but maybe this one’s better…” “No, you were right. Idiotic of me to think otherwise. Once I get what I need from the old man, there’s nothing for me here. Try pushing your weight downward; we’re descending soon.” His voice was flat. “There are certain lies Marksteppers tell each other. One is that the civilized world is nothing but panicky cattle who would be slaughtered without our protection. Another is that actually joining that world is the height of dishonor, an unforgivable betrayal of your clan. We beat that into each other until we never forget it. And they must not have beaten me hard enough.” His voice wasn’t flat anymore. “I want to stay.” He said it with a mix of shame and bleak acceptance, like he was confessing to a crime. “You’re the first person I’ve told,” he whispered.

#writing sample #tabby #lynd

[sabo-has-my-heart]

IMW Ch.4 So Many Books, So Little Time

Warnings: Ace stealing, Ace wearing your clothes, 

Word Count:1620

Thanks to someone on AO3, here’s chapter 4

You were typing on a computer, it wasn’t like the computer at your home, but it was close enough that Ace recognized it as a computer. Type, type, click, type, click, writing something down, and repeat. What was it you were even doing? You were in a library, shouldn’t you be grabbing books? Why were you writing things down? Granted, the library wasn’t anything he was used to, but it was still recognizable as a library. He thought about how huge Pops’ library was, not that he visited it often, but he’d been in there a couple times, especially when he wanted a nap and didn’t want Marco to find him. Marco never thought to look for him in the library, particularly not in the section on medicine. Finally you sighed, grabbing his arm and pulling him along the shelves of books, looking down at your paper from time to time before pulling out a book and handing it to him. Panting, Ace put the rather large stack of books on a table with your things before glancing back at you.

“You want me to read all this?”Ace whisper yelled, looking back at the stack, only to have you chuckling.

“No, Ace, this is just the first bit of things you need to learn. This is just the history that you need to not look like a total moron. That doesn’t include catching you up on math, science, technology, making sure you can write a halfway decent sentence, and fuck who knows what else. This is just all the books the two of us can carry back to my dorm when one of us finally gets tired of sitting here or they kick us out for the evening.” you stated, making Ace slump down in one of the chairs. There was more?! 

“Get started.” you stated, pulling out your own things as he grabbed the first book off the top of the pile. You had your own work to do, meaning hopefully this would be fine for both of you. 

A small snore drew you out of your work, looking over to see Ace fast asleep, slumped over in his chair, face down on the table. His arms weren’t even crossed under him as a cushion, it was like he’d just laid his head down and fallen asleep! Sighing, you looked at the time, it was getting pretty late, maybe it was time to pack up? Ace suddenly sat up, looking around, bleary eyes looking around. Oh, he’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t done that in a while, not since well before he’d arrived here. 

“How long was I out?” Ace asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“How should I know? I’ve been busy.” you stated, making Ace sigh.

“Well I usually face plant into whatever’s in front of me, so I figured you would’ve heard.” Ace said with a shrug. The crew usually noticed, everyone else usually noticed. 

“What do you mean you usually face plant into whatever’s in front of you? Is this… do you just randomly fall asleep? Are you narcoleptic?” you asked worriedly, watching as he shrugged.

“Yes and I don’t know. Is it some medical thing? Cause I don’t usually see any doctors outside Marco and he was usually busy patching me up.” Ace said with a casual shrug. This man was going to be the death of you. You couldn’t even take him to a normal doctor, he had no insurance, no ID, nothing! Fuck, how were you going to manage that? He could gain citizenship, which would fix some of the problems, but he had no birth certificate, no background, for all intents and purposes, until yesterday, he didn’t even exist! 

“Let’s check out these books and go home, I’m… my brain is fried.” you muttered, packing up your things. Ace had at least managed to get through 2 of the rather large books, surprising you. Apparently he could read quite well, which surprised you considering he was a 17th century pirate without any sort of real education. At least it was 2 less books though. Returning to your dorm, you sighed, Ace putting the stack of books down on the coffee table while you set your stuff down in the usual spot.

“Now that we can start catching you up on the various subjects you’ll need, can I trust you to stay here while I go to class?” you asked, flopping down on the couch. It had been a long day, even longer having to watch over Ace.

“Sure, but aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? Isn’t that our ‘cover story’? Ace asked, making you groan.

“Just… I’ll make up an excuse if I have to, but I’d really like to just keep you out of sight and pretend I’m showing you around later in the day.” you explained, Ace just sighing and nodding.

“Alright fine, but I expect food.” Ace said, making you nod. 

“Keep up your studies and we’ll get you as much food as you need… fuck, I hope I have enough cash for that.” you muttered, watching as a disconcerting smile crossed Ace’s lips.

“No worries, I uh… found a bit of cash earlier.” he said, pulling a few wads of cash out of his pockets. You looked at him before looking down at the cash before looking back up at him. You knew he didn’t have any cash before, and there was nowhere he could have gotten it except…

“Ace, did you steal this?!” you asked incredulously, looking at the cash.

“Yeah, those chicks flirting with me were loaded. Don’t worry, I conveniently dropped their wallets where they’ll be found and returned… just without any cash.” Ace said, still grinning.

“You can’t just go around stealing! This isn’t your world! We could get in serious trouble for this! If anyone finds out-”

“Then we’ll make sure no one finds out. Come on, you said you needed to feed me, this should help.” Ace offered, making you grumble. As much as you hated the idea, he had a point and you didn’t know of any good way to return the money anyway.

“Just. This. Once! If you ever do something like this again, I’ll let you go to jail.” you stated, gathering up the cash and starting to count it.

“How am I supposed to help you buy food then? You keep worrying about it.” Ace asked with a sigh. Stealing, pirating, and fighting were his main skills, all he really knew how to do, how was he supposed to help? He wouldn’t just be a burden on you.

“We’ll find a way to get you a job, that’s how. Just… later, once I figure some things out.” you muttered. Getting him a job wouldn’t be easy. He had no skills with anything in the modern world, he had very little knowledge of anything in the modern world, and he had no identification. Fuck. However, right now, you were hungry and exhausted, you just wanted to sleep.

“How about I make dinner and we get some sleep? We can worry more about this tomorrow. I just… I’m so worn out.” you muttered as Ace nodded, his stomach growling. You’d given him breakfast and lunch but it was significantly less than he usually ate and dinner was late. Rolling your eyes, you got started on dinner. Cooking was cheaper than fast food at the moment and you’d need all the money you could get to feed this guy. Once you’d both eaten, you pulled out some spare items from under your counter, thanking whatever power that be that you had thought to buy extras. 

“Shower, brush your teeth and go to bed. You’ll smell like my soap for now, but we’ll buy you your own stuff later.” you stated, Ace looking around the bathroom.

“Where’s the bar of soap?" He asked, looking back at you. Fuck, did you have to teach him every little thing? By the time you were laying down in bed, you were so exhausted that you were asleep before your head hit the pillow. Still so much to do. He’d need new clothes, official papers, a job, a bit more formal an education, so much to do that had you not already been asleep, your head would have spun. Ace peeked into your room, about to ask what he should do with the towel and about his clearly dirty clothes, finding you already fast asleep. You’d been working so hard to help him, you were so nice. He needed to find a way to help, to pay you back. Until then, he needed clothes first, the young man starting to look through drawers and your closet. It wasn’t like he hadn’t worn women’s underwear before. It had been on a dare, but it would work in a pinch. Besides, they were clean, and the sweat pants were a little tight, but it was better than nothing, right? Hopefully you wouldn’t be too upset with him.

You were upset with him. He’d gone into your room without your permission, dug through your things, stolen your sweatpants and was wearing your panties!

“I… I don’t… know where to begin!” you said, staring at the top of the blue cotton that peeked out from under the undersized sweatpants.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t have anything else!” Ace apologized as you stared at him. He’d just… he was wearing…

“We’re going shopping. Put on your pants and a shirt, we’re going out!” you stated, quickly going to your room to get dressed. Absolutely not! This was never going to happen again! You were also probably going to throw what he was wearing out. Just. No!

#one piece #one piece ace #fire fist ace #fire fist ace x reader #Portgas d. Ace #Portgas D. Ace x reader #portgas d ace #Isekai'd to the modern world series #ace x reader

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Dinner for Two [Ch. 1]

Non-Idol AU, Chef AU

TW: Language

CW: Food

Genre: Slow Burn Romance, Drama, Light Comedy

Pairing: Chef!Na Jaemin x Reader

YN Pronouns: Not Specified

(1/?) [Next]

[NCT Masterlist] | [Other Groups Masterlist] | [Dinner for Two Masterlist]

Word Count: 3.0K

Notes: HALLLOOOOOO as promised, the lovely Jaemin Slow Burn, I hope you all enjoy and remember that I love you all <3

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

I. Dinner for One

In which the Chef prepares for himself a carefully planned out and multiple-coursed meal, all of which are dishes of merit. Practiced to perfection and to his taste, they are what he believes to be a masterpiece of work; however, this is to be expected from someone who thinks about nothing else aside from who he is and what he has achieved. Such results, therefore, are to be expected.

Jaemin adjusted his coat as he walked into the haute restaurant. Famed for its three Michelin stars and its authentic French cuisine, he knew that he had to have a taste before his time in Paris came to a close. Having only traveled for the week, and he would soon to partake in a culinary competition that would define his career as a whole. High expectations doesn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling. Now, just hours prior to the big day, Jaemin’s mentor had advised him to relax this evening to enter the competition with a clear mind, and never has he been wrong.

Jaemin took his time to observe the area around him. The restaurant was as elegant as he expected it to be, and it was furthermore as classy as any would believe. With rather low ceilings and a royal theme, it was no wonder that the restaurant had been held to such high regards in the past. Paris, although a shock to finally come to, was regarded as a culinary capital. He’d be more than happy to study western styles of cooking someday, and it may be today that he settles on that decision. The cuisines were in such stark difference to his learned Korean understandings that they were fascinating to an unknown degree. Was he here to relax or to study? He didn’t know the difference. He makes eye contact with the hostess, who offers him a smile.

“Bonjour, monsieur, bienvenue à L’Ambrosie, avez-vous une réservation?” the hostess smiles. She notices his ID badge. “Ah, pardon me. Hello, sir, welcome to the L’Ambroisie, did you have a prior reservation with us?”

“I do. Under Na Jaemin,” he says. She looks at the list.

“Dinner for one?”

“Yes.”

“Right this way,” she leads him to his seat. It was situated by a window overlooking the Parisian streets. He had a perfect view of the nightlife strewing about. He took his seat and the hostess placed a menu at the side of the table. “Whenever you are ready, monsieur,” she says before excusing herself from the table. He takes the menu and combs over it delicately, reading the ingredients and imagining how the dishes were compromised. He had heard only good things about this establishment, and perhaps eating well will calm his nerves for the competition soon to come.

Yes, after years of trouble, Jaemin had finally garnered enough experience to earn him a spot at one of the largest culinary competitions in the world. Years of culinary school and internships mixed with actual work were finally coming to a point, and all of it tomorrow. After he and team Korea had a narrow victory in Bocuse d'Or Asia, just barely doing better than Team Japan, the heat was on for this competition. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the global PR on the event, but he knew from Jisung that everyone was relying on Team Korea to finally put their foot into the culinary world.

Talk about pressure.

Jaemin never let it get to him, and it still didn’t. He was confident in his abilities, he knew what he had to do and how to do it. This competition will just be one of many stepping stones in his culinary career. That’s all this was. He’d always prided himself in doing well under pressure, as he was never the kind to actually break or react too dramatically to sudden changes. Maybe he’d complain a little, but in the end he’d get it done.

“What can I get you, monsieur?” The waiter arrives.

“Noix de Saint-Jacques en salmigondis de brocolis, truffe blanche,” Jaemin replies.

“Right away, is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Your meal will be out momentarily, monsieur,” the waiter takes the menu and is off. Jaemin glances out the window and sighs. Culinary arts had always been a passion of his. He was in adoration of how it was prepared, how it was presented, and how it was served. All of it was an art-form in itself that begged to be studied, it was something he had devoted his life to since he was a toddler. And now, at this moment, he’s putting his life’s work to the test. One of his main criticisms from others was his age, it was a hinderance to experience, but it was one that he strived to overcome. To accept representing the country at such a young age was questioned by many others.

He needs to prove them wrong. To prove that he can handle this and that he’s been fit for this task. It’s not like it was such an impossible feat, however. Jaemin knows his worth, he knows what he’s worked for, and he knows his achievements. This should be a simple walk in the park, a showcase if anything.

Soon, the platter arrived. It was arranged in such a delicate matter, the placement of each scallop, of each green, and of each droplet of sauce was perfectly calculated to appeal to the aesthetics of its viewer. This is what it means to indulge in fine dining. Not only is your palate satisfied, but also your eyes, your ears, your smell, and your touch. It was appealing to all five senses. It is this perfect balance that is key to a gourmet meal regardless of class or difficulty.

“Enjoy, monsieur,” the waiter excused himself and Jaemin took the first bite of the scallop. Immediately came the rush of flavors, the perfect mix of spices blended with the carefully maintained temperature of the dish. If Jaemin wasn’t so professional he would’ve easily expressed the sheer complexity of the dish through his face alone. This is what it meant to be a three Michelin chef, he realized. This was a flavor he must strive for in his career.

And he’d get it if it was the last thing he’d do.

~

“Welcome everyone to the final round of the Bocuse d’Or, only the largest culinary competition in the world, we thank you for tuning in. My name is Enzo Allaire and this lovely woman with me is Crystal Acuesta and we will be your English-Language MCs for the evening.” The MC’s voice was cheerful. Both of the MCs were highly acclaimed chefs in the culinary world, everyone knew them and many wanted to at least stand in a room with them. Their presence alone was imposing, but together it created an atmosphere heavier than one could ever imagine. The only thing that rivaled their brilliance was the panel of judges beneath them, who not only had years to decades of experience, but have been known to create and destroy careers at the mention of a simple number.

“For anyone tuning in for the first time, let’s go over the rules.” Crystal sat next to Enzo in their booth, reading off of the prompter. “Each team is comprised of two chefs, the lead and their assistant. They will both have five hours and thirty-five minutes to complete fourteen plates of both a meat and a fish dish. The panel of judges is divided by twelve, twelve for each dish respectively, and the chefs will be graded on a total point basis of forty, twenty for each dish. If there is a tie, cleanliness and overall teamwork will be taken into account. Let us now introduce our chefs.”

The roars of the theater were nearly deafening as Crystal and Enzo introduced each pair. Their own voices competed with the other MCs who spoke in their native tongues to keep up with the already fast paced introductions. With cameras pointing every which way and lights turned to their highest, one could argue that it was blinding too. Often regarded as the Culinary Olympics, the Bocuse d’Or was a dream only a few chefs could ever even comprehend. To stand on this stage is to have the undivided attention of some of the best chefs in the world alongside the aspiring ones who dreamed to be in this very stage. It was, without a doubt, terrifying. This was the moment of a life time, and he doesn’t know when he’d ever be able to stand on this stage again. He must make it count.

“And this is it, everyone, the international culinary championship taking place in Paris, France. We have many good contenders this year,” Enzo says into his mic. “But, as everyone mentioned, all eyes are on the rising underdogs from South Korea.”

“Right! Everyone’s rooting for them,” Crystal affirms. “Na Jaemin and Park Jisung. The restaurant they work for was awarded its first Michelin star, correct?”

“That’s right. The restaurant Morning Dew, they’re known for their modern and stylistic spins on traditional Korean breakfast and brunches, I’d been meaning to try it out,” Enzo comments. “But these chefs are rather interesting. They were trained under the master chef Moon Taeil himself.”

“Ah, I know him only through reputation,” Crystal hums. “But it seems that their greatest opponents are here today. I vaguely remember hearing about how they faced off in the Asia Competition a few years prior.”

“Right, you’re talking about the representatives from China. Xiao Dejun and Liu Yangyang, correct?”

“That’s right. Their coach is Qian Kun, he’s won this competition a few times, no?”

“He has. But Team South Korea has Moon Taeil as their coach, it’ll be a close fight, that’s for sure.”

The voices of the MCs were dull in Jaemin’s ears while he approached his work area. It was just him and the goal now. He had worked his entire life for this moment, with a perfected recipe clear in his mind and hands trained to perfection, he felt more than confident. He didn’t know how precisely to describe this foreign feeling. He didn’t know how to properly convey it. As he stood before his workstation, pristine and ready for use, he couldn’t quite articulate his feelings. Was he scared? No, definitely not. He felt an odd sense of invigoration; however, it was mixed with the two banes of a person’s life: Ego and Fear. But, as any home may be, he was stressed.

Having left home to study culinary arts at a young age, Jaemin took every single opportunity he received to better advance his skills in the kitchen and his efforts were made known. Part of the reason why cameras were focused on him right now was the fact that he had already made quite the name for himself in the small country. He couldn’t be any more determined to win this competition, to bring Korea into the world stage in a way that everyone can truly enjoy. Whether it be the comfort in food, the joy of presentation, or the relief that stemmed from its preparation, cooking is a universal language understood by all and needed know further introduction.

“Jaemin, are you ready?” Taeil’s voice was clear in his earpiece. The last thing he wanted to do was to fail his teacher, they worked hard for years to lead up to this moment, to finally bring the name of culinary excellence back to Korea, and the pressure just continued to build. “Just breathe, Jaemin, don’t forget why we’re here. You’ll do amazingly.” Taeil’s voice was comforting, he was trying to relax the young chef before his final battle at this summit. But how could he? His entire culinary career rode off of this one moment and, with spotlights on him, the blaring sounds of the countdown matched the slow beating of his heart. Then, as the countdown hit zero, Jaemin picked up the kitchen knife and spun it in his hand before he got to work.

“Jisung.” His voice was mechanical, it served more as something to look good on the screen, but, truth be told, the commis already knew very well what to do.

“Already on it,” Jisung was rushing to the large fridge area, grabbing all of the ingredients they required. Jaemin followed close behind, focusing on the main points of the dish while Jisung focused on the secondary parts. They had both practiced for this, having timed themselves and made the dish over and over again until it was objectively perfect. They poured countless days and nights into never ending research to craft the perfect dishes for this competition. There was no room for error, Jaemin wouldn’t let that happen.

“Ah, it looks like South Korea is working on Galbijjim for their meat dish!” Crystal commentates. “As for their fish dish, I assume from the ingredients it must be Agujjim?”

“Looks like you’re correct, Crystal,” Enzo confirms. “Seems like a rather simple dish for this competition.”

“Oh, don’t say that. Sometimes simple dishes have the best of flavors.” Crystal says before they move on to the next duo.

Jaemin and Jisung worked like clockwork, just as they practiced. Routine, routine, that’s what this was. They were going to get first if it was the last thing they would do. Jaemin squinted under the spotlight, paying attention to the angle he was chopping at, to the size of the cubes he made, everything had to be indubitably perfect. Jaemin’s hands moved by nearly muscle memory alone, the two dishes he had chosen to prepare were specialties of Morning Dew, the restaurant he was lucky enough to have trained at since he was young. He knew these recipes better than he knew himself, nearly. And with Taeil giving his feedback to both him and Jisung and offering some tips in the earpieces, they were without a doubt more confident than ever.

“Careful, Na,” Dejun’s voice was clear behind him. “Your cutting technique might lead you to chop a finger or two,” Jaemin could tell that he was being sincere, but with the heat of the competition he couldn’t help but think that he was being condescending.

“Focus on your station before you focus on mine,” Jaemin responds. Dejun just narrows his gaze and shakes his head, going back to his dish. Jaemin couldn’t let the competition get to his head, after narrowly losing to Dejun and Yangyang a few years ago, he can’t have an accident again, he had his pride to take care of. “What’s our time, Jisung?”

“We have five hours left.”

“We spent too much time on prep,” Jaemin murmurs. “How’s the agujjim going?”

“Ready to be cooked.”

“Alright, let them sit so they can get properly seasoned, let’s get to work with the beef.”

Jaemin took a deep breath while Taeil’s voice spoke to both of them, no doubt saying to relax, but Jaemin couldn’t allow himself to be distracted right now. The fish can be cooked later, the cook time isn’t as demanding as the meat dish was. The only problem was preparing fourteen of them in the allotted time and with the available stations. Each workspace was designed similarly to a restaurant’s to mimic restaurant conditions, and it was the only hinderance to preparing the dishes. This was their disadvantage, the Morning Dew restaurant was a small business with the few individuals who worked there being meticulously clean and the crowd control being manageable due to capacity limits. But this was based off of the more common Western kitchens, with fast paced cooking and various distractions, it was one of the things he and Jisung focused on preparing themselves for prior to arriving in France. Jaemin cracked his knuckles.

“Okay,” he smirks. Full confidence.

But it would always be remarkable to him how fast confidence can destroy a concept. It worked like a silent assassin, should one give into it, that would be their bane. Serving as a secret ingredient, of sorts, there’s a reason why the saying “confidence is key” is often championed in all walks of life, and it all boils down to the natural charisma of the one who seeks to utilize it. Confidence can turn a simple bowl of instant noodles into a Michelin worthy dish in the blink of an eye, confidence can hide the imperfections of a dish such that they never existed in the first place, and confidence can, ironically, serve as a grounder in high stress situations such as this very moment. Jaemin had always danced around it, if he lost everything the last thing that would remain was his confidence, it is what made him successful, and it will be what will lead him to victory.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

That was his assumption up to the very last moment, as the judges sat before him and tried the two dishes that they had so painstakingly prepared to excellence. One could argue that this was their lives’ best work, a testimony to their skill. To be fair, any person competing here would think that. Anyone who came in “just for the heck of it” was in it for the wrong reasons, they never truly strived for excellence if they decided to join a world-class competition just for the experience, no. This was akin to a final report card, the last shot at success, and the first risk of failure.

But Jaemin could so clearly remember and recall the moment he realized that his culinary career was as good as over, and it was right when the judges announced their scores.

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville @resonantcherry

Dinner for Two Tag List: @leesalts

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

#nct #nct x reader #nct x you #nct x yn #nct u #nct u x reader #nct u x you #nct u x yn #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream x yn #jaemin x reader #jaemin x you #jaemin x yn #my writings #dinner for two

[scarsmood]

may i ask why you support endogenic systems? genuinely curious on your thoughts on it.

Tldr; they’re cool. Idm. The rest of this devolves into me bursting into flames. So popcorn is recommended.

They fuck, putting on my little shit glasses. Here’s what I can say diagnostic criteria as someone with diagnosed DID is kinda fucking awful. Our system for people with mental illnesses isn’t comprehensive, it isn’t all knowing, we also don’t account for so much shit it’s scary.

I have so many endogenic friends. I can’t give a fuck. Their existence doesn’t effect mine. Language is a different story something I see a lot. My only ask is that an endogenic system doesnt claim they fully understand a DID system which ive seen in syscourse. That’s just not gonna happen similar to lived experiences issues. Their different experiences and thats fine.

I think tolerance is a better word for me. Because i am system aggressive and it doesnt discriminate. You put me near other systems because of previous abuse from other traumagenic systems im prone to lash out. I just can’t conntect well like I used to.

So i tolerate all of you. Equally. I don’t see a reason to discriminate. I’ve seen some abuse on both ends and don’t think its a systematic issue rather a individuals are assholes problem.

Honestly? Seems more like a huge distraction to have a little war this way to distract from the rampant abuse all systems face. We should all agree its bullshit theres no accommodations, systems aren’t prevalent in academics yet. Thats a bigger issue. If you wanna spend time helping people with say DID or accomodations related to their plurality id take a dip into academic papers and see how bad it really is.

Let’s set the stage and remind ourselves.

In 2010 it was okay to force integrate systems

In the early 2000’s and 90’s endogenics and traumagenic systems didnt have much of any significant voice in medical settings. Typically treated as schitzophrenia for BOTH.

In the 1980’s it was okay and normal to overdose a paitent with DID and kill them. Then claim it was an alter.

When i see people fight over endogenic systems. I want to scream st them thats not the point. When I was being told by my first therapist to be very careful as a 14 year old because its a very real fear i will be experimented on without my consent.

I wonder why the FUCK endogenics are even on peoples radar. When I do intensive EMDR for years that cost me thousands of dollars out of pocket. I work fulltime jobs JUST to go to therapy.

This blog is my fun haha blog where I go to disconnect. Tomorrow im waking up at 7am to drive for intensive therapy getting myself in debt and picking up new meds for my DID.

Nothing about plurality is even remotely safe yet. Not safe enough to bicker about why endos should stay in their lane. We have a common enemy. Endogenic systems have so much information to. They know how to communicate without dissociation. I envy thag because DID costs me past 7k its a car at this point. Probably more.

Why would i not support someone whose got their shit figured out? I respect the hell out of that. I just don’t see why their an issue. Not when I have to listen to my disability officer tell me im not disabled enough. I have to argue with someone dipshit that my pain isn’t farfetched and I will experience very real consequences without accommodations.

I love playing the victim though. Traumagenic systems are noteably more unstable than endogenic systems. We are literally disordered. Im system aggressive because i cannot stand to see functionality in other systems. Ive watched traumagenic systems tear into endogenics, raid their spaces and spew hate in the name of ???

Happens on both sides. Like i said but its easier to pretend were the victims. Im just very tired of going through therapy, life, and social interactions at a disadvantage. Endogenic systems remind me theres people like me who are a little different who maybe arent as fucked. I think thats cool. Because its hard for me to tell if im gonna make it or not. I like the inspiration.

You caught me at a bad time anon ask me again after im done with some of the hardest choices ive had to make in my life

#rant #tw

[starspaceace]

being on vacation with my dad has reminded me why i went a period of time no contact with him like. my brother put it like he’s 50 and like a libertarian which is kinda cringe get a real opinion old man. i’m going to rant because i need to write shit down

i kinda need to rant a bit like. i went no contact for a while over an argument with my brother living with him and him treating my brother like shit while that was happening but honestly i haven’t gone more than a day with my dad since i was 16 because when i was 16 i could just drive myself back to my moms house instead of doing like the weekend visits and getting into arguments every weekend but im on a week vacation with them right now

my stepmom saw that i like don’t shave my legs and wear clothes from the mens section so she’s like ‘well if there’s anything you want to tell us we support you :)’ which is. kinda funny in itself assigned gay by hairy legs but im like ok easy opportunity i guess to go well is this a gender question? they know im gay but this is a different thing im like sure non binary im not like a man but woman isn’t right yknow and she’s like well we support you :) but she i guess she tells my dad? and since that he’s upped like the “well you’re always going to be dad’s little princess” like thats a thing he’s always done (which has been and would still be annoying as someone who still identified really female. my brother doesn’t get that treatment yknow?) but it feels more. bad. also my brother and his girlfriend call me carl as a nickname for carley and my dad was weird about that like ‘her name is carley! tell them to stop calling you carl’ and asked if i would change my name to something else. like. its just a nickname even if i would change my name it wouldn’t be to carl. carl is a fine nickname until im one of them they/thems? there was also some weird comment at one point about how everyone’s bisexual now (which? my brother is just a straight man so its not even like we’re both gay its literally just me) (should’ve picked an easier to nickname name all carley gets is carl sometimes) my brothers girlfriend is with us and put it well like my stepmom just enables my dad. idk

like i told my brother its so hard to misgender me but my dad’s managed to do it somehow. like i know i see myself nonbinary but im short and fat and my voice is feminine so im just going to be perceived female? i still use she/her pronouns so like. whatever. its a thing i’ve accepted about myself but as long as i feel good about myself generally it doesn’t matter. my brother said it didn’t seem like it’s purposefully malicious but its still. something. im not sure what kind of word im looking for it. i think its just disappointing. im just wondering if they’d be like this about me being gay if i actually was like. dating. if i was “/really/“ gay instead of theoretically gay or gone on a date with one girl once gay. but since im like here and queer! im not queer in an acceptable way anymore?

in related issues my dad has like a lot of opinions but like no fucking opinion at all on anything like ? all politicians are corrupt but also socialism is bad (not exact words but like. the gist. food stamps welfare etc etc ) vaguely racist ideas (ie easily deniable, not sure he even realizes the things he’s saying are such) and throwing out weird buzzwords. called the backseat of us in the car millennials when we’re pretty solid gen z (like does he not realize he’s? like 7 years older than the oldest millennial? not far from that man you’re gen x). like if you’re going to be conservative just commit instead of pretending you’re not

my brother has been really great to be with through this experience of dealing with our dad tho in both making fun of his opinions and my gender stuff. making sure he’s not misgendering me (like asked if id rather he said sibling, i think im still ok with sister. or like my pronouns) we’re funny about it tho he said if i changed my name it should be to wolfgang or maybe pull a power move and just change it to his name and we have to fight over it. been making me feel better about everything instead of being bummed out about everything.

anyways my brother was playing our beach playlist we made and he put on one mcr song we put on there and my stepmom was like well carley can have one song but this isn’t my cup of tea but we’ll listen to it for her and i texted my brother like damn i can’t even have my gay song. they also hated on international love by pit bull so maybe they’re just haters. it’s tuesday and we’re here until saturday morning and my dads birthday is tomorrow so here’s hoping to uh. nothing eventful. worst case we drove here seperately and leave :P

#carley talks #anyways! i wanted this written because my memory is shit and i forget about stuff like this sometimes. #there’s been times my mom or my brother will be like remember shitty thing dad did and im like… kinda?but this is me words

[bettermiya]

Hellooo if it's okay id like to request a haikyuu matchup pls- (don't mind my awkward communication skills btw)

General stuff

Im female (she/her), 17 years old, relatively short (160cm, idk what that is in feet Im European :,)) maybe 5'3??)), my parents are from West Asia (Turkey) but I was born in a german speaking country so somehow i can speak 6 languages now-

Personality

One will realize pretty fast that I am in fact not normal lmao- i'm a bit weird but i'm living for it. I'd describe myself as rather introverted though I'm not shy or timid. I just like to relax and take things slow. I'm pretty easy to talk to if I do say so myself and laid-back as well. I'm also funny apparently (my friend's opinion. Lazy too but we don't talk about that HA-)

Interests/Hobbies

If you couldn't already tell by my ability to speak a lot of languages I am really interested in them. I love to learn new stuff and expand my knowledge in general- I also LOVE listening to music (my earphones are my bebes) and sometimes drawing is pretty tempting as well. Idk why but designing/ decorating is something I tend to enjoy doing even though I don't realize it. Gardening is also a hobby of mine.

Just a few more smaller facts- My love language is quality time and I'm not overly experienced when it comes to relationships. I tend to be drawn to ppl that are open and know what they want. Confidence and loyalty are a big factor.

Thank you in case my request gets accepted <33 bye byeee~

Tsukishima Kei is surprised that he would be fascinated with you!

He's not an easy guy. The type who would retaliate with a sharp tongue before letting anyone in, but you've managed to get past his defenses. It's a combination of not pushing his limits and having the intellect to study languages, which is such a difficult subject. Tsukishima is a person who relentlessly pursues knowledge even if he hides it under such a cool façade. If he discovers that you, as unassuming as you are, can assist him in some way? Even his pride cannot keep him from asking for your assistance while his eyes are downcast, and he tugs at his fingers.

Why not? His demands are straightforward and specific. You start assisting him with his request, but you never expected to catch so much attention for it. You're beginning to see that other girls are drawn to Tsukishima by his good looks without knowing about the twisted personality hidden beneath. His interactions with Hinata and Kageyama, two of his volleyball club teammates, demonstrate his cruelty. A sharp word. A biting laugh. A taunt. Tentatively, you asked him about his personality, and he answers:

( “What gives me the right to be cruel to you? You haven't done anything, and you're helping me.” It could be a trick of the light, but he appears to be blushing into the crook of his arm.  )

His meanness, however, is directed at anyone who might criticize you. Those girls' attentions turn negative. He can easily exploit each of their insecurities. This one is far too ugly, this one is far too stupid, and this one is far too pathetic. It doesn’t matter where in the social hierarchy they are because Tsukishima is an ever-loyal attack dog. He’ll take all the heat if it means they’ll leave you alone.

One day, a girl who used to blush pretty when he was close had splashed water in his face. He didn't even blink. You dragged him to the back of the gymnasium and asked Tsukishima why he was willing to go so far for you.

This is too much.

( “You're a moron. I thought you were smarter than this… Why would someone be so protective? Because they like the other person.” )

#cloudmaniac