#i would take the worst of my usual symptoms over this *any* day of the week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sirfrogsworth · 6 months

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I posted the below on my Facebook. I am secretly trying to head things off at the pass. Every time people see pictures of me out and about, they think I have been magically cured or my health status has improved. And I know going to Florida is going to give people that impression.

But also, I just wish a few of my relatives could understand my situation better. And why I didn't come to Christmas. And why I might try to come to Christmas now.

I guess I'll see how this goes.

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One of the biggest struggles I've had my entire adult life is explaining why I appear fine whenever people see me. I say I am very sick and bed-bound and then they see me and I am out of bed and talking and joking and... a normal healthy person.

What many don't realize is I am making a choice.

A choice to get sick.

I can use up all my energy in a short time frame to accomplish a difficult chore or entertain a friend or go to a doctor, but that is going to have a consequence.

The more I do, the more severe the consequence.

In the ME/CFS world this is called "post-exertional malaise." (for those interested, you can read more about it here: https://rthm.com/art.../what-is-post-exertional-malaise-pem/ )

Imagine every time you wanted to do something, you were *choosing* to get the flu.

Take a walk, get the flu.

Exercise, get the flu.

Spend a night out with friends, get the flu.

And you might be thinking, "Okay, it can't be as bad as the flu. I've had the flu and the flu sucks. No one would choose that."

I may not get the nasty respiratory symptoms, but everything else is pretty much the same. Crippling fatigue, horrible aches, and the loss of the will to do much of anything. Sometimes it is much worse than the flu. Some people don't know how much being this exhausted can hurt. They have never used up enough energy that their body is unable to power itself properly. I usually say it is like every cell in my body is starving and screaming for energy. I feel it in every inch of my body—and not just on the surface... through and through. So, like... cubic inches.

Sometimes I don't even have the energy to power my legs. Trying to stand feels exactly the same as trying to lift a barbell with way more weight than you can lift. I can't get upstairs or even walk to the kitchen. It's a concentrated misery that defies description, despite my constant attempts to try.

Sometimes I get lucky and this flu lasts for a day or two. But the more active I am, the longer it can last. And the severity increases as well. There is also a cumulative version of this—where if I do a bunch of little things over a longer period of time, eventually it will catch up to me and I may be stuck in bed for a few weeks.

And when I say "stuck in bed" I mean stuck in bed.

Short trips to the bathroom and a few minutes in the kitchen to make food. If I spend too much time upright, my legs will literally give out and I will be stuck on the floor until I recharge enough energy to get up again. It would be like every time you needed to get up, you had to hold your breath. Not to mention, the more I do, the longer the recovery will take.

For a long time I chose to never get the flu. I stayed in bed and did just enough to avoid the worst of PEM. I skipped family get-togethers. I didn't see my friends. And I lived my life inside the computer. Some may find that sad, but I actually found a way to make this work. I ran a successful blog that was seen by millions of people and I met my two best friends who I now consider my new family.

One thing that allowed me to choose not to get the flu was my parents. I fear some thought they were spoiling me. They did my laundry. They helped clean my room. They got my groceries. They cooked my food. They took on any chore they could so I could avoid the flu and live some semblance of a life on my computer. There is a lot of guilt wrapped up in that. I didn't ask them to do that. They just sort of... did. And I am so grateful to them.

To be fair, they would have to do these chores for themselves anyway, and tacking on my stuff wasn't a huge deal. But I know it caused them a little extra pain and a few post exertional consequences of their own. So I appreciated that sacrifice more than I can put into words.

But then they both got very sick. And not only could they not help me with my stuff, I had to help them with their stuff. And this was a difficult transition. I had to choose to get the flu to take care of my parents, but then if I got the flu, and I couldn't take care of my parents. I believe this is called a catch-22.

My initial solution was to just not take care of myself. At all. My health and mental well-being was set aside and I just gave all of my energy to them. I didn't shower. I forgot to take important medicines. I didn't do a single thing that brought me joy. And I'm reminded of that analogy of the airplane emergency where the oxygen masks drop. You put on your mask first before you put one on your child. Your instinct is to save them first at all costs. But if you pass out, they are screwed.

So I kept getting that cumulative version of the flu. I'd help them as much as I could for a week or a month and then I'd be useless to them for just as long. Living in the basement did not help. Stairs were very hard for me and constantly going up and down was a huge waste of energy.

And I'm sad to say, the level of care I gave to my mom was not great. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't understand how to balance my needs with hers. And it led to costly mistakes. She had several preventable falls that caused injuries. At one point she spent hours on the floor because I fell asleep and did not check on her. When you know someone needs regular supervision, you need to synchronize sleepy time.

Thankfully I learned from all of these lessons. Maybe not as quickly as I would have liked, but I did figure it out. I just wish I had learned them before my mom passed. I just wasn't able to give her the help she needed.

And you can tell me "you did your best" all you like, but this isn't a guilt I am choosing. It's just there and I feel it no matter what anyone says. In time I am hoping it will get lighter, but I'm afraid it cannot be wiped away with a well-intentioned platitude.

But with my dad, I decided to move upstairs. That was something I should have done much sooner. But I liked having my personal space and that was hard to give up. When he slept, I slept. When he spent 4 hours at dialysis 3x per week, I would make sure to take care of any personal needs. I would do chores a tiny bit at a time. 5 minutes here, 5 minutes there. And then I would lay on the couch in between and regain my strength. I did everything possible to not get the flu. And I got my flu shots so I wouldn't get the actual flu. (Get your flu shot! 50K die from it every year!) The only hitch in my plan was when I got a kidney stone at the same time my dad was in rehab. I have no idea how I got us through that.

I was very proud of the care I was able to give my dad. And I'm so grateful I was able to pay back just a tiny bit of what my parents did to help me. And the care I gave my father is the only thing that helps me feel better about my failures with my mom.

But now I am entering a new chapter of my life. And I find myself choosing to get the flu more often. I have decided sometimes it is worth the consequences. Part of that is because I am more used to it after dealing with it for 20 years. I have coping mechanisms and procedures and techniques to manage the symptoms. It doesn't make them suck any less, but it definitely makes it more manageable. It's akin to people with chronic pain who still feel the pain just as profoundly as when it was new, but they get so used to it that they forget that isn't how they are supposed to feel.

I approached this scientifically. I did tests. I went to the movies. I tried once a week and that was too much. Then I scaled it back and that was more manageable. Then I realized I had movies at home and decided to end that experiment.

I started to put my energy into something I enjoyed more. My photography. So I have been finding new ways to take pictures again. More experiments. I'm designing a simpler studio that requires much less energy. I'm creating a little product photography workstation where I don't have to set up everything each time I want to take a cool picture of an object. It will just be "turn on the lights" and "take the pictures."

Figuring all of this out made me realize how much I missed photography. And since I have been shooting test pictures here and there, my mental health has been noticeably better. And once I get this all figured out and set up, I am hoping some of you will let me take your photo. Or a photo of your kid. Or a pet. Whatever you have that needs photographing, I'm game.

I'm not going to charge. It's not going to be a business. I do not have the energy to "hustle." And asking people for money just sucked all of the fun out of my beloved art form. It corrupted it. I just love taking pictures and if you need a photo, I'd like to do that for you. I also restore old photos for fun. I'll talk about all of this more in another post when I am ready to start.

And then my grand experiment is coming next week.

I am going to travel.

I am going to see my best friend in Florida for two days. Two days of travel and two days of visiting. This is a scary choice. I know the aftermath is going to be difficult. But I need to get out of this house. I need to see my chosen family in person. And I have never been on a plane and I love the perspective from high places. I know people hate air travel, but for me, looking out that viewport is stunning television that cannot be matched.

Purposely making myself sick sounds like a bad idea. But it isn't life threatening. I have the free time to recover as long as I need to. And I can always choose not to get sick for a while if it gets too hard.

I just ask that people not see this as going from a worse life to a better one. I was really proud of the life I was able to create for myself while staying in bed. That took a long time to figure out. I met some of my favorite people. And I accomplished things I couldn't imagine in my wildest dreams. Please do not shit on that life and think it was sad or meaningless. I was given that life as a gift from my parents and it kept me alive. It has always been a huge insult when people pitied that precious gift they gave me.

This is not a better life that I am trying to figure out. It is just better for me right now. My needs have changed. I have changed. So I am trying to adapt. I just ask that people understand when I go out and do something, please remember the choice I am making.

You may be tempted to say, "You are doing so much better!" I am not any better than I was 10 years ago. Actually, my health has degraded. It's just that before I didn't think getting the flu every time I did something was worth it. And I would hope everyone would understand that was a valid choice.

And now I am inviting those consequences.

On purpose.

Give me the flu, I guess.

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luvring · 3 months

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Can I ask for headcanons about the LIs from Touchstarved and how they would deal with the MC who is suffering from menstrual cramps? Unfortunately, I'm in those days, I always get very sensitive and I can't eat anything (sometimes I even feel nauseous and vomit).

Sorry about my English

TS CAST WITH AN MC ON THEIR PERIOD

gn!mc | aaaghh i hope u feel better soon/now anon that sounds awful :(

ALL

i want you to know (partially because i don't want the notes to be repetitive) none of them would mind cleaning up any vomit, stains, etc. when they happen. literally none of them!! they've all seen worse, had worse happen, and care about mc. of course they'll take the time to clean up, change sheets, rub their back (and hold back any hair) as they hover over the toilet etc.

the others would ask kuras to check on mc if the symptoms are super serious and it could be some underlying condition. vere. ....mc is important enough to get kuras bro trust me. one of the others might recommend it if not him bdjhgbd

KURAS

! Finally a doctor that won't invalidate your experiences or just send you home! kuras would take their symptoms seriously and prescribe medication, etc as needed (i don't know how advanced they are surgery wise but if it was safe and possible...!)

he offers to let them stay at the clinic with him, but they both know he'd prefer they did assuming it isn't too difficult to set up

...methodical? when it comes to checking on mc, especially when they're suffering the worst of their symptoms! even when it seems like he's super busy and doesn't have time, he makes time.

he's good staying calm at signs of pain, strong emotions, etc., but it's a little different because mc isn't Just a patient. sometimes he can't help his worried expression when mc is in obvious pain, and he wouldn't buy tea for just anybody now would he! or let them pull him to the bedside and chat to distract them, comply when asked to hold his hand over their stomach, etc.

food wise.... he learns mc's favourites quickly, at least what they can stomach. best soup flavours, best drinks, soft foods... plus the nearest places he can run to. mc can be like Kuras It's literally 10 minutes away but he's like.. What kind of doctor would i be if i let my patient leave in this state. Can you lie back down now?

when they're home, kuras is freer to spend time with mc if they'd like! if mc says he has to cuddle because they're in pain, he can slip into bed with them. (he might be a little awkward the first couple of times because, well, cuddling isn't a usual treatment he offers to patients is it? and i don't think he's cuddled a lot in general, but he gets the hang of it!)

LEANDER

the wet wick isn't really where you want to be when you're dealing with cramps, nausea and anything else. so when mc mentions that they'll probably be dealing with their period soon and they tell him how bad it can get, leander makes sure to find a more comfortable place, even if it's just for a while. (or you know. maybe they live together somewhere else already and that'd just be very lovely and convenient !)

if there's any Magic Treatments he can do himself to soothe their pain, do some magic equivalent of a heating pad, etc. leander will absolutely use them! though he might make a joke like, Is the spell as good as me though? and when mc is like you know what? yeah. he's like :( / oh i see how it is...after everything we've been through /joking

i don't care if he doesn't like naps he will nap with mc if they ask. He Will. even if he doesn't stay the whole time, he'll at least rub their back and wait for them to fall asleep.

at their beck and call while he's around!! they need help getting to the washroom? he's there to help. they want a little snack? he's bought some! they ask him to run a hot bath? do they want him to help them wash because he will! their heated towels aren't hot enough anymore? no need to get up, leander's already on his way. they want to cuddle with him? What kind of guy would he be to say no?

if mc is more sensitive and their emotions are kind of all over the place, it probably surprises leander the most LOL. like everyone's caught off guard and worried walking in on them crying, but leander is most visibly like wait shit what happened? what's wrong? are you okay? did someone do something? because he's done everything he can to make sure they're comfortable like woah!!😭

VERE

do you guys know if vere's job is a 9 to 5 deal... well. while he's on the job, trust me when i tell you he's thinking of mc more often than he'd like to admit. he wishes he could check on them himself, but if he can't, he'll ask one of the others to. you'd think ais considering ais is the only one vere likes, but depending on what you need, he'll have to suck it up and ask. leander maybe?

yeah okay he'll rest his tail over your stomach and let you play with it now stop giving him puppy eyes and asking /lighthearted /silly. he'd appreciate it if you didn't squeeze very tight, like please hold onto something else besides his tail. but staying near you and getting that something isn't at all an issue for him!

if they want to cuddle Vere and not just his tail, he pretends he's Relenting and Allowing it, but he does enjoy it! (you can tell by the smile on his face and the way he shifts the pillows and blanket to make sure they're both comfortable for the foreseeable future.) he lets them rest their head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, and he wraps his tail around just for extra warmth.

tones down his provocations and attitude when he realizes mc's state, and his more serious side comes out. if mc is confused/surprised by this, he rolls his eyes before carrying on to tell them to stay hydrated, and which places have the best teas/warm drinks. (he knows the owner of the one on the corner two streets down, and he's sure they'll lower the price for you.)

stubborn mc who ignores vere telling them they should stay in bed, or trying to help them there. vere who watches patiently as they're obviously in pain, until they give in and look at him. vere who, just once because he's vere, is like oh? what happened to not needing help? before mc tells him to shut up and he wraps an arm around them

AIS

makes sure they're drinking enough water and eating what they can despite his teasing. says shit like "okay, if you drink enough water i'll buy you some sweets" "think of how disappointed princess will be to find out you're pushing yourself" etc etc. of course when he's especially worried about them not eating, he'll take a more serious tone, but it's what he can do to keep their mood up.

even though exercising while you're cramping and bleeding often sounds. Miserable and Impossible. exercising regularly can help when the time comes! ais offers to join them on a couple walks a week :-) if mc thinks that they can do some light exercise, he'll be there to help them and suggest some easier workouts they can do. i don't think he's a huge yoga person, but he's got some stretches for sure!

guy who goes to buy some things and comes with more than mc expected or listed. he shrugs and says it's better to be prepared, and he was there so why not? he even asked some of the clerks for their opinion and was told some nice advice from a stranger who overheard him and who's he to say no.

might be below leander in terms of cuddling enthusiasm, but is still more comfortable than the others! he'll wrap himself around them, keeping a light pressure on their stomach and rubbing circles against their skin. he never complains about quietly staying and watching them, or talking if mc asks him to distract them. (they wonder how many of his stories take place in a bar. Have you never had a fun experience perhaps at a festival or park? he feigns offense before telling a 'nicer' story anyway.)

more modern au than TS but. i don't know if you guys saw that video where they asked their boyfriend to get pads with wings and he bought. pads and chicken wings. i'm crying soo bad like ais would do that as a joke. he'd take the wings out first then show mc he did, in fact, get pads with wings after they stare at him like ???? BEJHSBGJHB

MHIN

the first time it happens? they spot mc obviously in pain and watch them for a while because, well, that isn't their problem is it? they're just watching because they're curious, not because they really care. inevitably, they go up to check on them and bring them somewhere more comfortable because it was "hard to watch"

it's like... mhin knows what to do, but there's hesitancy because they feel awkward About Offering. do they just hand mc the warm towel? do they ask them to roll over? if they ask what mc wants to drink, will they have the ingredients for it? they leave a bowl by the bed and say "in case you vomit" then hesitate before telling them where the washroom is, but the bowl is just in case. the others are more comfortable asking and taking initiative when it comes to mc y'know. but once they've established a relationship, mhin is quick to know what they like and need without mc even asking! ^^

"mhin" "hm?" "i think i'm dying" "you aren't dying" "i'm going to die" "don't die on my favourite blanket" "what the hell" (/lighthearted) (they do in fact care very much and feel bad. if mc wasn't busy suffering maybe they'd have noticed mhin preparing tea and a hot pack across the room.)

doesn't even try to entertain the thought of mc getting up and doing something strenuous. mhin shoots them a look like ? are you kidding. stay here and i'll take care of it. they won't force mc to stay in bed and assumes they know their limits, but that also means if mc pushes themself too much, mhin is all the more 'annoyed' (concerned!! they're concerned more than Angry, but can you please listen to them for once!)

omfg mhin bringing mc to a place where stray cats like to visit just to cheer them up a little. mhin handing them some food to hold out in their hand. there's a specific cat who really likes to purr and cuddle that they get the attention of just for mc. yeah.

#touchstarved #touchstarved game #kuras #leander #vere #ais #mhin

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azaleakoneko · 7 months

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Doctor’s Orders

Trafalgar D. Water Law x Fem|Reader

Requested by: @strawheart-pirate

A/N: Hii! I went back and forth for a bit about how exactly to do this prompt, but I hope you like it 😊. It was a nice little challenge ❤️‍🩹

Warnings: Super short lived anxiety to set the scene for the fluff! Soft Doctor Law 🫰

Word count: 3.4k

Please note that just because this work is fluff and appropriate for consumption of any age, that cannot be said about the rest of my blog. This is primarily an 18+ Blog and will stay that way, so keep that in mind, thank you!

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༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚

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Docking on islands to restock when possible certainly wasn’t unusual, but what was intended to be a short stay somehow turned from one day to three — from three to a week and then two as Law agreed to take on patients in return for the supplies he was receiving.

Normally he would’ve just done the bare minimum to get in and out of a town before getting too comfortable and letting his guard down, but something about this island didn’t want to let go of him. It was like he had been called there and didn’t quite know the reason, that is until he met you.

You were so sweet and personable with himself and his crew as you took it upon yourself to load his temporary office with the required supplies donated by the town. At first he hardly spoke a word to you aside from the usual gratitude, but he couldn’t help but take an interest in you the more you came around — admiring how hard you worked to help them out when you really didn’t need to. Your excuse was always something along the lines of ‘doing your due diligence for the town’, or simple enough excuses of citizens personally asking you to deliver goods on their behalf, but to him it always felt like there were words left unsaid behind those pretty lips of yours.

Eventually he accepted that alongside his frequent supply deliveries would be an opportunity to get to know you better, something he disliked less and less the more you opened up to him. Your smile alone made his heart leap and his face heat in a way that left him wondering for a while if perhaps he had caught something while treating the locals. However, after similar symptoms popping up at things like the sound of your voice, slight lingering touches from your delicate hands when you passed him things, or even the way you’d take an interest in his work — even the doctor had to admit to himself that there was more to his interest than just appreciation and that he indeed wasn’t sick. At least, not the type of sick medicine would cure.

Things continued progressing this way, sweet and slow, until one day there was a sudden heavy storm that threw off the routine he had grown to love.

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“She should have been here by now…” Law said to himself as his mind began to drift to the worst case scenarios as he rose to his feet, shoes thudding against the floor anxiously as he walked over to the heavy wooden door, swinging it open to stare out into the downpour. His heart sank and he had knots in the depths of his stomach at the thought of something terrible happening to you. His eyes scanned the darkened horizon and immediately widened when he saw a soaked figure surrounded by parcels being pelted by a merciless torrent of rain. Without a second thought he had already bolted out the door alongside a snap of lightning and rolling thunder outside, thinking about nothing else other than ensuring you hadn’t been harmed.

“Y/N! What were you even thinking still trying to make your delivery run out here in this nasty weather?” Law said with a bite to his voice, but the tremble gave away his true worry. “Come on, let’s get you inside so I can look you over and make sure these scrapes are just artificial.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to retort as he swept your drenched body up into his arms and began to carry you back inside, disregarding the drips littering the floor as he moved to place you down on the sterilized bed usually reserved for the temporary patients that came to see him. “Just lay back and let me check, alright? You’ve seen me use this before, so there’s nothing to fear y/n-ya.”

You nodded and would’ve attempted to stifle a giggle from his concern if it weren’t for your chattering teeth and trembling body preventing you from finding much of anything funny at the moment. “Mhm, I-I trust y-you Doctor.” You managed to murmur out, feeling a bit guilty for making a mess and causing so much unnecessary concern all because you wanted to keep to your schedule so you could spend another evening chatting with him about everything under the now clouded over sun. You certainly got your wish, but you hoped it didn’t come at the cost of wasting his time. “Oh n-no, the supplies!” You said, attempting to sit up and move.

Law placed a firm yet gentle hand on your shoulder with his eyebrows knit together in concern, not even needing to use much force to get you to lay back down on the mattress. “Supplies be damned — they can always be replaced, you on the other hand can’t be. Now let me do my examination before you try to move again. Doctor's orders, you hear me?”

You complied, wet clothing making a soft squelch against the plastic of the bed as you settled in, laying perfectly still with your gaze locked on him in fascination as he began to use his devil fruit powers to check over you with extreme precision. You already knew it was no use protesting until he had made sure himself, regardless of what you said. “S-So? What’s the verdict Doc? Am I gonna live?” You asked with a smirk, wishing you had a warm change of clothes so your teasing wouldn’t lose part of its playful effect from your continued shivering.

Hearing you joke around paired with the conclusive results of his powers had his shoulders sagging in relief. He sighed and put a tattooed hand to his head, satisfied that you really weren’t injured. “Yeah, thankfully you’re gonna be fine. Seriously though, what were you thinking y/n? You’re lucky you weren’t out there too long before I found you.”

“Still w-worrying about me, Trafalgar? I’m fine, really. I’m just a l-little cold and um, quite d-damp…” You said as you lifted one of your waterlogged sleeves as an example. “I just wanted to bring you what you needed — you’re not mad are you? I’m really sorry, I j-just wanted to see you.” It was clear enough by your honest tone that you were remorseful, but it made you worry if you had said something wrong when you saw him look momentarily bewildered by your innocent confession before it seemed the puzzle pieces finally clicked together in his mind. It was for him.

“…” Law looked upset but said nothing as he shook his head and offered his hand out for you to help you up from the examination table. “No, I’m not mad. Not at you or the situation,” He said as he waited for you to sit up and have a firm grip on his hand. “-so yeah, I was worried about you. Now come on, I’ll show you to the bathroom so you can shower and get warmed up. Wouldn’t want you to actually get sick… I have some things I can give you to change into when you’re done. I’ll leave them by the door and toss your wet clothes into the dryer afterwards. Does that sound okay with you?”

You nodded with a genuine smile, more than happy to have been offered his kindness instead of a frigid biting response on this already chilly evening. “Mhm, t-thank you very much d-doctor.” You muttered thankfully as he ushered you into the bathroom and waited for you to close the door.

Once you turned the water on and began to strip away the wet garments that had been stripping you of your body heat you heard his footsteps recede for a bit, returning a few minutes later with a soft rap on the door with his fingers that read ‘e’ and ‘a’. It nearly made you jump since you weren’t accustomed to showering at someone else’s home, let alone someone you were infatuated with, but he was respectful and as promised left the dry clothing by the door; his yellow sweatshirt with his crew’s symbol and a comfortable pair of sweatpants.

“Take your time, I’ll get started on making something hot for you to drink when you get out. Feel free to use any of the stuff in the shower, I don’t mind. Just leave the wet things on the floor, I’ll take care of them.” He called out as he headed to the kitchen, letting you ease into the steaming water to ease away the chill and scrub away the wet filth.

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When you got out you felt fully refreshed, the shivering from the cold now replaced with a slight nervous tremble as you looked at yourself in his clothes — a slight blush decorating your cheeks. “He’s just being nice, don’t think too much of it..” you said to yourself as you ignored your own words, gripping the front of the hoodie and bringing it up to your nose to inhale the scent that still lingered there. It was a musky pine scent that made butterflies tingle in your stomach before you dropped the material and cleared your throat, not wanting to be flustered when you joined him again.

You left the wet items on the floor despite feeling a bit guilty for leaving a mess, but he did say he would take care of it after all. Since you were done you took one last glance at yourself in the mirror before leaving the bathroom and going to look for him. It didn’t take long, you just followed your nose to the alluring scent of hot chocolate and peppermint to the kitchen; eyes widening in delight when you saw the steaming cup topped with whipped cream just waiting for you on the table across from the considerate doctor himself.

“That smells delicious! Thank you, Trafalgar…” You gasped as you picked up the cup and eagerly took a sip, disregarding the white foam that now covered the top part of your lip. The hot liquid scorched your tongue and throat a little as you gulped it down, but the way it warmed your insides had you sighing contentedly before flashing him a grateful smile. “I don’t know how to repay you for all of this…”

“There is no need for you to repay me y/n. You do plenty just by bringing me supplies and giving me company all the time…” Law said as he held up a hand and shook his head, a light dusting of pink across his cheeks as he looked at you. It also seemed you weren’t the only one that liked how you looked in his clothing, evident by the way he could hardly take his eyes off of you now. “If you really want to thank me though, please be more careful. I like seeing you too, but not if it puts you at risk.” He said before diverting his attention from you and grabbing his own cup in an attempt to hide his embarrassment from sounding like an overprotective partner when it hadn’t even been something in your control — let alone the fact that he was just being a friend to you and nothing more.

At least that’s what he continued to think to himself as he put his cup down and cleared his throat. “I’m really glad that you’re alright though... It’s still too stormy out there for me to feel comfortable sending you home. You can stay here tonight if you’re comfortable with that? I can take the couch — you can go ahead and take the bed for the night.”

You nearly choked on your drink when you heard him offer his bed for the night, but you couldn’t deny that the thought of not having to leave was appealing. You carefully set the cup down with a delicate clink against the table and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “R-Really? I wouldn’t want to impose… I can take the couch, it’s not a problem. Besides, I’m not even tired yet.” That was true enough. How could you possibly be tired now knowing you would be sleeping under the same roof as your beloved doctor? It seemed impossible, improbable even, yet that was your current predicament thanks to the heavy rains.

“Tired or not it wouldn’t be right to have you sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good bed you could use. Doctor’s orders.” Law said as a playful smirk began to pull at the corners of his lips, clearly loving being able to take advantage of his title to force your hand on the sleeping arrangements. Not like he minded — he’d fallen asleep in much more uncomfortable places than a soft, warm couch during his countless hours of medicinal study.

You puffed your cheeks up and crossed your arms but knew he’d already made up his mind. “Fine, but can we just… talk for a while? I mean, I did almost die and all just so I could come and give you some company.” Sure it was a dramatization, but he was already not playing fair so you weren’t going to either. “Or are visiting hours done for the night?”

Law scoffed amusedly and walked around the table so he was in front of you before plopping one of his hands on the top of your head to ruffle your hair softly. “I think I can push back visiting hours, just for you. But first... you have something on your face just here—” he mumbled as he raised his other hand, index finger swiping along your top lip to collect the forgotten cream from the hot chocolate before thoughtlessly popping his finger into his mouth, swirling the cream off of his finger with his tongue before realizing that was probably too much.

You were stunned as you watched him, feeling your heart skip from his closeness and the random act of intimacy. “T-Trafalgar…?” You stuttered his name quietly, all hopes of hiding your flushed cheeks gone out the window. If it were possible you’d probably have steam coming out of your ears, but in reality you stood there like a deer in headlights with widened eyes and a yearning expression on your face. Part of you wished he would’ve just kissed you to get it off, only making your mortification worse.

Law thought about it too as he saw your sweet, confused yet wanting expression, but he wasn’t sure if it would be too much so he chose to back off a bit with a sheepish smile as he scratched the back of his head and took a step back. “Sorry, I guess I got a bit carried away didn’t I… Here, let me take your cup. We can just go sit on the couch and talk until you get tired, if I didn’t make things weird?”

It took a moment for your brain to rewire, but when it did you cleared your throat and shook your head. “U-Um it’s not weird, I just wasn’t expecting it. I thought you were going to.. going to um..” you began to say before stopping yourself. “Never mind, it’s not important! S-Sure, sounds good to me.” Never before had you wanted to kick yourself more than in that moment, but he just smiled at you knowingly as he took the cup from you and began to wash it in the sink along with his own before setting them both in the dish rack side by side.

He then led you to the couch and let you get settled before sitting beside you, noticing your feeble attempts at maintaining distance as the two of you discussed everything you’d initially planned on bringing up to him. That didn’t last long however. The more you talked and the later it got, the more you sank into his side until he had his arm slung comfortably behind you, casually holding onto you as if it were a normal thing between the two of you. It was comforting paired with the sound of the rain still pelting the windows outside, urging you to stay inside with Law where it was safe and warm.

“Are you getting tired yet…?” Law asked softly as he raised his other hand to tuck some of your loose strands behind your ear, feeling his heart spill over with warmth and unbridled affection when you looked up at him. His devil fruit allowed him to steal hearts at will, but that look you gave him alone ensured that you had stolen his without even trying. “You look like you’re barely keeping your eyes open. I can carry you to the bed if you need me to, y/n.”

A sleepy pout knitted your brows together and your hand attempted to grip onto his shirt in protest but your grip was hardly strong enough to do so when you were only barely staving off the lull of sleep thanks to his attentiveness and warmth. “I’m not falling asleep. I’m wide awake, see…?” You said as you made a show of widening your eyes just for your lids to quickly return to their half lidded state — your hand partially sliding down his chest since it took everything you had just to stay conscious.

Law chuckled, his laugh reverberating in his chest and making you shake slightly and making it ten times harder to stay awake from hearing the soft pleasant sound you adored so much so closely. “Yeah, I see that…” he said as he sighed and pulled you closer into his side, angling his hold on you so that it would be easier for him to scoop you up and carry you into the room when you finally passed out. “You put up a good fight, but I think it’s the sandman’s shift with you now sweetheart…”

If you were more conscious that comment would’ve sent you into another fluster, but all you could process was him trying to move you and it resulted in you using the last of your energy to cling to him. “Please just let me stay wherever you are, Traffy…”

Law paused for a moment at your use of a nickname on him in return while asking something like that of him. It was so cute watching you fight him even now, and he had to admit it was a nice thought — getting to fall asleep with you tucked inside of his arms, safe from the rainstorm and warm in his bed. He sighed once more and leaned his head down to place a chaste kiss against your forehead as a distraction before swiping you up effortlessly in his arms, head nestled against his shoulder, and took you into the darkness of his organized bedroom to lay you down on his bed.

He placed you down on the bed, helping you slip under the covers with a tender smile on his face as he watched you dig your face into his pillow and visibly relax. “That’s it, get comfortable.” He hummed quietly as he tried to back off and let you fall deeper into the slumber you so badly tried to put off, but your hand caught his when he tried to walk away, your next words making him feel like he had no choice but to give you whatever you wanted.

“Can you please stay with me? I want you here…” You said with a half conscious yawn, struggling to open your eyes and look at him. He’d be sure to tease you in the morning about how you refused to let him leave the room, but for now his resolve crumbled and he crawled into the bed beside you, pulling you against his chest — not even surprised at the contented hum that left your lips as you nuzzled your cheek against his shoulder, eyelids beginning to flutter closed once again now that you’d gotten what you wanted. “Thank you, that’s much better. Goodnight Traffy, you’re the best…”

Law couldn’t take how sweet you were being to him, feeling like he would burst from the happiness he felt. He stroked your hair affectionately with one hand as he gently tilted your face towards his, almost talking himself out of it when he saw your sleepy confused expression, but nonetheless he pressed his lips to yours in a short and sweet kiss. “Goodnight y/n… Sleep well, sweetheart.” Then he sank into the bed and pulled you close once more.

There was so much more he wanted to say, so much he wanted to offer you; like joining him on the Polar Tang when they did decide to leave, but that would have to wait until both of you were rested. For now all he wanted to do was wait out the rain wrapped up in this cozy little bubble with you.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©HauntedHeartHowl, previously HowlTheSanjiSimp. Please do not copy, modify, translate, feed my fan fictions to AI, repost or promote my writing or graphics on other platforms. Please DO feel free to comment, reblog or follow <3

#hauntedhearthowl #howl’s saccharine autumn #one piece fluff #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law fluff #trafalgar law fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #one piece law x reader #one piece x female reader #one piece x y/n #Spotify #no beta we die like men

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archangeldyke-all · 5 months

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Synced period sev save me, save me big baby sev, save me 🙏🏾

in all seriousness, my period dropped in the middle of me writing last night

so my request for the day is sevika actually being excited about syncing your periods because it means you guys have been around each other enough to link like that <3

LETS GOOOO i've been thinking about this ask since i first saw it.

men and minors dni

she'd come home and find you curled in on yourself on the couch, groaning as you hold a hot water bottle to your abdomen.

her first reaction is pity, as it always is when she finds you suffering from cramps.

but then, she remembers that she's on her period too.

and a grin breaks across her face.

"fuck are you smiling at?" you ask grumpily, pouting at your girlfriend. she giggles and runs over to flop down on top of you. you laugh, your girlfriend's joy infectious as she nuzzles against your neck and presses kisses to the sensitive skin there.

"you got your period?!" she asks, elated. you chuckle at her expression.

"yeah. why're you so excited? thought you knocked me up?" you tease. she laughs.

"i got my period at work today!" she says, grinning. you blink up at her in confusion.

"so?" you ask.

"so!?" sevika asks, gobsmacked. "so we're synced!" she says, grinning.

you laugh and pull her down for a kiss.

"you're ridiculous." you say. she laughs on top of you, reaching down to re-arrange the hot water bottle so it's squished between both your stomachs, both of you sighing at the relief the warmth brings.

"babe, it's so fuckin' romantic." she insists as she settles back down on top of you. you wrap your hands around her, rubbing her lower back, knowing it always aches during her period.

"it's a little too gross to be romantic." you say.

"no it's not! our bodies are so used to each other that we're literally, physically on the same page now. i always knew we were perfect for each other, and now we got the proof!" she says.

you burst into giggles, your grumpiness melting away at your girlfriend's excitement.

"okay, okay. i guess it's kinda romantic." you say. sevika grins and kisses you.

"take out for dinner?" she asks. you nod.

"somethin' greasy."

"duh."

you guys would be so cute, trying to take care of one another at the same time.

sevika'd bring you pain killers and forget to take some for herself, so you'd bring her some.

you'd make her her favorite meals and buy her a fresh bottle of her favorite whiskey, and she'd come home that night with grocery bags full of your usual cravings swinging on her wrists.

she'd buy you guys a big, bed sized towel, so you could both sleep on the same towel together in case of any night time leaks.

sevika's worst symptom on her period is her migraines. yours are your cramps.

your solution to this is to have sevika lay her head on your chest while you massage her neck, her body heat keeping your lower stomach nice and warm. the two of you can be found laying like this in bed almost every night you're bleeding, in a dark bedroom with lavender oil diffusing around you, soft music playing as you cuddle.

(also, syncing means that you guys ovulate at the same time, if you know what i mean, wink wink)

the more months that go by with the two of you synced, the more you realize she was right. it is pretty romantic.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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telvess · 6 months

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I was hanging out with a little girl who fucking coughed on me and now I'm sick...

Usually I'll drink a shot of vinegar, ginger honey, cinnamon and cayenne pepper... but i don't have access to than rn...

And in my sick/ half sleep haze I was thinking about how our diverse cast of hot men would take care of sick s/o using natural remedies

So Shiva, jataka, Buddha, (it might be the same because India idk, I guess Thai for Buddha)

Loki (Celtic/Greek idk)

Kojiro (Japanese)

I need some ror men..

medicine!

Need medicine...

I hope your sickness was short!

I THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH SASAKI BECAUSE OF YOU!

RoR: How do they take care of sick s/o (Shiva, Jataka, Buddha, Loki, Sasaki Kojirō)

Shiva

Shiva has never been sick in his life, so he freaks out a bit when you get sick. Not the most helpful companion you can find. At first he asks what to do, but if you are too weak to speak, then… oh well.

Shiva doesn’t leave his realm, so he doesn't know any natural, human remedies that could help you. He keeps you warm and sits next to you the entire time. He remains vigilant. Even he pretends it’s nothing, his wives can tell he genuinely worries.

Once the worst is over and you start to look more alive, Shiva does his best to keep you in a good mood. Say a word and he will even dance for you.

What’s surprising, no matter how hard you try, you can’t infect Shiva. He basically cuddles you, feeds you, and helps you change clothes all the time, and yet all the germs seem to ignore him.

Jataka

Jataka was sick himself, he knows it all too well. As soon as he notices the first symptoms, he is very caring. Even if it’s just a flu, he doesn't downplay it.

He prepares for you an ayurvedic drink. Depending on your symptoms, he will choose the right recipe. He makes sure you drink all of it, so don’t even try to argue. It’s a waste of time, this man is too stubborn.

Jataka provides everything you need, he even brings you a book to read or he reads to you himself. He is cautious and keeps his distance, but that doesn’t stop him from being very strict: he makes sure you drink enough water and that you’re warm.

Every time he checks if you have a fever, he caresses your cheek with his finger before moving away. It's the only physical thing he can do right now to show you his affection.

Buddha

His first reaction is to tell you to lie down. It doesn't seem to bother him, because it’s just the flu. He had it when he was human, it’s not a big deal, especially if you have everything you need right under your nose. But secretly it eats him up inside, to the point where he can no longer eat sweets. So he shows up on your doorstep with his very casual attitude and starts asking questions. He checks if you’re hydrated, if you have a fever, if you need anything.

Buddha was born in present-day Nepal, so he follows ayurvedic… a little. He knows it’s not 100% effective, but he still finds some methods solid. He would make you brew containing honey, tusi leaves and lemon juice, and force you to drink it. It’s the best for the flu in his opinion.

He sits at the proper distance, eats his sweets and talks to you. He isn’t the worst companion you can get. Isn’t the best either… Do you know how good this candy is? Oh, right, you don’t, because you can’t taste *smirk* Don’t waste your pillow trying to hit him…

Loki

Let’s be honest, Loki probably isn’t the best person to take care of a sick person. At first, he acts annoyed when you announce your condition to him, but after awhile when he sees you struggling with the easiest tasks, he begins to worry. Seeing you in such weak shape makes Loki a little, a bit… soft.

From what I’ve researched, the Nords believed that sickness was an attack of malignant spirits (often ancestors) on the body. Loki obviously knows better what’s going on with you, but I wouldn’t be surprise if he mentions this fun fact to you. He was probably the one who sold people this nonsense in the first place. Let's just hope you're not hallucinating…

Loki prepares you tea with honey and entertains you with his new diabolical plans of how to mess with humans. He doesn’t even need you to be active in the conversation, but it's nice to see you smile or snort from time to time.

Loki doesn't follow any rules (i.e. keeps his distance, washes hands) and he will probably end up sick as well. Guess whose fault it is? And guess will have to take care of him? AND guess who won’t lie in bed and rest but spread germs everywhere? That’s right…

Kojirō Sasaki

He is the sweetest guy you could have by your side right now. A little clumsy, but he has got a spirit.

Considering how observant Kojirō is, he'll probably be the first to notice the symptoms. Even if you deny it, he will prepare for the possibilities ahead.

Sasaki would prepare for you hachimitsu-daikon - it’s Japanese form of cough and throat syrup, made from honey and Japanese radish. Kojirō would make it for you just like his mother did when he was a child.

Kojirō doesn’t mind missing a few days of training, you’re his priority. He is with you as long as you need and entertains you with stories from his life. He can read you something until you fall asleep.

He makes sure you’re hydrated, always brining you fresh water or preparing ginger tea called shoga-yu. He doesn’t try to make you anything else, because he is terrible at picking herbs and might accidentally poison you.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #snv x reader #ror shiva #ror jataka #ror buddha #ror loki #ror kojiro sasaki #udj

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vashatxt · 10 months

Text

blade x reader - period s3x

imagine: you're not feeling too hot, on your period and suffering in bed, but you have a generous boyfriend called blade who knows exactly how to get you to sleep.

if you would like to request a fic/send a prompt, please read pinned and head to my ask!

there is no obligation to send any tips but if you feel like passing on a good deed, my kofi is https://ko-fi.com/idolelysia

cw: period sex, piss mention, oral sex, ass play.

the worst thing about your period, aside from how little you’re able to get done and the moodswings, is the pain. you’ve always suffered from horrendous cramping, heavy bleeding, bloating, and every other symptom under the sun.

there are days during that week of the month where you can do nothing but curl up into the fetal position, clench your legs together, your hand not resting on your crotch for anything nefarious, just comfort.

one afternoon, after showering to freshen up with no relief from the misery, you resign yourself to a nap. your boyfriend is already in bed, cosy in his boxers and a sweatshirt, his long hair tied up in a ponytail.

You smile at him and then start to pout. "don't be mad, but i think i need to accept the fact today is a write off."

"get in here." you gratefully climb over him onto the bed, curling up and letting out a deep sigh as your head hits the pillow. your tampon is only making you more conscious of your flow with how it would leak within an hour, and that wouldnt make for a peaceful nap.

"i'll change the sheets later...," you mumble. "don't worry about that," blade shushes you, his voice soft and gentle. you nuzzle into his shoulder. "It's okay, my girl." "mhm."

blade lowers the volume on the television while you assume your usual position, hand between your thighs. You try to focus on your breathing to allow yourself to fall into a deep slumber, but it's no use.

the cramping pain that extended right down from your abdomen to your legs is just intensifying. You moan as and wriggle around, trying to relieve it any way possible.

"babe?” blade mumbles.

"mhhm? im sorry, i know i'm disturbing you-," "you're not at all. i just...," blade slips his own hand between your thighs. "maybe an orgasm could help you sleep?"

"i...," you aren’t a blusher, but for some reason, you feel embarrassed. "i promise i wasnt trying to.... be presumptuous and initiate something-,"

"i know," blade presses his hand down onto your much smaller one, and smirks when you gasp. your hand is the only barrier between your cunt, and blade’s touch. "but you sound like you might need it." "b-but you know i don't like to make it gross...,"

"do you think its gross when i fuck you and my cock and my fingers come out covered in blood?" blade blinks, wide eyed and innocent. it takes everything for you not to moan at the words alone. "no... i think its hot."

"so do i. selfishly, this is one of my favorite times of the month." a grin flashes across his face, before he gently retracts his hand and uses it to roll you onto your back. "spread your legs."

he's gone down on you on your period before, but never while you were freely bleeding this heavily. but you don’t have time to feel self conscious, because the minute blade slips two of his long fingers into your pussy and gently pumps in and out, the lubrication from the blood and cum making it too easy for him to make you feel full. "more," you moan, but blade just laughs. "you're so fucking soaked, you slut."

blade is positioned on his knees between your spread legs, and makes sure to make eye contact before lowering his head, painfully slowly, like you have all the patience in the world. he doesn't break the eye contact until he has to, and he burrows his whole face into your warm cunt. the hand he was using to fuck you is now digging into your hip, keeping you restrained, and the other slips underneath your butt, fingers itching to play with your asshole. but eating you out is the main event. as blade’s tongue swirls inside you and he licks at your clit, just gently enough for it to be considered a tease, you are squirming. You’re sensitive at the best of times, but this is actually threatening to humiliate you with how quick you could climax. You muster the strength to start grinding against his face. "you ok?" blade pulls back, looking at you again.

"what?!" "you're being a brat." You narrow your eyes. "are you for real?"

Blade loves winding you up, but you can't do it today. you’re destroyed. Blade’s face is soaked, the sun shining in through the window making it absolutely clear that his face is coated in not just blood, but clear, thick cum too. "kiss me," you demand, and blade knows you’re feeling better already - but isn't going to complain about continuing to take care of you. You’ve forgotten all about your reservations regarding mess, and you clumsily climbs on top of blade, diving in for a sloppy kiss. You taste yourself, and fuck, there is something so hot about it, if you do say so yourself. You suck on blade’s bottom lip and cup his face to smear the blood further across it. he looks like an animal after devouring its helpless prey. and blade is licking his lips. Hungry for more. "leave some for me," he pouts. "not fair, babe." "you cant get enough of my taste, can you?" "you really are an insufferable little bitch."

You kiss him again, blade’s hands are around your waist and pulling you closer, while you fumble underneath his sweatshirt to start flicking and twisting at his nipples - you know how much he gets off on sharp pains like that - “fuck, you’re a desperate little thing.”

"always, baby," blade moans. "please. please please please." "please what?" "i wanna taste y-you... please... i wanna .. i wanna breathe you in... i want to drown in your cunt...i want every drop of you i want it i want it."

You shift forwards and lower yourself onto blade’s lips, blade dutifully supporting you from behind which has the added benefit of being able to pull you down further onto his face.

"this'll shut you up," you mumble, and it's not quite true, because though slightly muffled, blade is louder than ever, louder than even you were. there's something about a boy moaning into your pussy with his hot breath that drives you insane, and you know you won't last long, you’ll spill while still sitting on his face like its a throne made just for you. but thats how blade worships you, after all. he falls apart for you, so he deserves a good view of you falling apart for him.

"you feel what you do to me?" Blade presses his tongue into you in response. of course he can't penetrate much, but it's enough. You ride his tongue, closing your eyes and your hips rising and falling, throwing your neck back. You let the cusses and the whimpers and the "blade"s fall out of your mouth until the moment his lips latch around your throbbing clit and his tongue wraps around in weird and wonderful directions, you cannot even figure out what he was fucking drawing on you in his mind (blade tells you later it was the word "mine"), and when he refuses to stop stimulating your urethra when you warn him to not, you don’t have a choice - "fuck," you yell “blade, blade, bla--," You tremble into the orgasm, feeling the familiar warm sensations of a gush of blood, squirting, and a trickle of piss all while blade digs his fingers into your ass so hard that you can't move from his face.

then, finally, you can roll off him and fall asleep in seconds, this time to the soundtrack of blade jacking off beside you under the covers, not being able to keep your name out of his mouth as he does.

#blade hsr #blade x reader #hsr x reader #blade imagines #blade smut #hsr x you #blade x you

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 3 months

Text

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 40)

Tw: like really bad sickness, doctors dismissing symptoms, general themes of hopelessness, shorter chapter than usual

Part 41

You were woken up by the feeling of fingers running through your hair and a presence right beside you.

You know it's Yves, so you snuggled deeper into him. Which earned you a kiss on the crown of your head.

"(Name)." You cracked open an eye and looked up to see Yves's kind eyes. Yves has changed his clothes that fit more into his usual style; a simple turtleneck and a pair of smart palazzo pants.

"It's time for you to eat, my dear." You struggled to sit up, but the pull of sleepiness proved too much for you. So, you flopped back onto him, latching onto his chest. Yves wrapped his arms around you again and buried his face in your hair.

You groggily told him that you're not hungry and you simply wanted to cuddle some more.

"We could do that after your meal." He mumbled, closing his eyes in bliss as well.

You said no, you wanted to bask in his touch now. Vibrations can be felt when he hummed in response.

"How spoiled." Hissed Yves with mock distaste. "But, I wouldn't have you any other way." He continued, softening his tone.

You grinned, feeling his hands rub soothing circles on your back.

"I will give you ten more minutes. Then, you must eat. Did I make myself clear?" You nodded, pressing your face against him. A chuckle reverberates through his ribcage.

You relaxed even more, and enjoyed the attention you were receiving. Whereas Yves had a lot on his mind.

It's been a day since he last stepped foot into the courthouse or prison, and he should be discharging you today.

Your family back in your home country still doesn't have an inkling of any idea about what you went through. While Yves is pleased that you're completely relying on him, it also worries him that your support system is practically non-existent.

Despite being possessive over you, he also knows that you're still young and a human, you need the presence of other relationships to develop healthily. Yves wouldn't want to shorten your life expectancy nor would he want to fry your neurons just because he was selfish during your formative years.

He also wanted that domesticity where you would introduce him to your parents, and it becomes his duty to charm them. Not that it's of any challenge of him to do so.

He twirled your hair around his fingers as he pondered the reality around him. He stopped when he heard a change in your breathing. You fell back asleep.

Yves sighed and rested his hand next to your head, Checking the clock in the room.

You're not physically starving, and neither is this a sign of some serious underlying cause. Why not let you rest against him a little longer?

He pulled the blanket to your shoulders before snuggling closer.

Mr. Jones lost almost everything when Evangeline let her mask slip that day. He lost his daughter and his wife; they fought and fought over the matter, where Mr. Jones mostly defended his little girl's actions. She refused to acknowledge that she was partially at fault as well, for not paying attention to Evangeline's behavior.

His wife demanded to get a divorce, and they were still living together in the same house. But sleeping in separate rooms. She would have moved back into her mother's home, but they had no space for her. Seeing that Mr. Jones is unlikely to hurt her out of rage, she stays until she can afford to start the process of separation and get her own place.

The legal fees for Evangeline devastated their combined savings, and both of them had to take up extra hours of work just to put food on the table. It's for the best, this limits the interaction between them at home.

Mr. Jones undoubtedly loved his wife, so it felt like his world was crumbling when she started looking away. He missed their morning talks, the love between them and their daughter. Tears were shed, but he had to keep them under control if he wanted to keep his remaining clients. Customers started dropping him after learning about his daughter's deeds, not wanting to associate themselves with a relative of a depraved criminal.

The ones who stayed are either clueless or not as concerned about their reputation. The company that hires him to work as a professional chauffeur is notably withholding customers from him, most likely due to them hearing about the case too.

The couple disagreed on everything after that fateful day, there were verbal fights daily and unbearable tensions between them. The house felt more like a concrete box with no air holes, so there were days Mr. Jones would even sleep in his car.

However, one day, there was something that they could finally agree on. And that is a beautiful gift hamper addressed to the Jones family.

It was from Yves, containing expensive wines, luxury chocolates, imported perfumes, an exquisite, living room display piece, a set of crystal glassware, and shiny jewelry. This sympathy gift was surely not cheap nor easy to put together, the items are either rare to come by or custom-made.

There was a sealed envelope inside, it made both husband and wife cry upon reading his printed letter with his name embossed onto it.

It said,

It has been a tumultuous time for all persons involved. I can only imagine the anguish you must have felt as parents. There will be differences between the two of you regarding this, conflict is to be expected. Despite what Evangeline has done, she deserves a whole and loving family. Please accept this as a gift of sympathy. Wishing you strength and understanding, with the courage to overcome the turbulence as a team. -Yves.

They embraced each other, forgiving for each other's transgressions and apologizing for their mistakes as well. Mr. Jones's wife retracted her request for a divorce and expressed regret for even bringing that up. Yves is right, they have to stay together for their daughter. Evangeline needs them more than ever, they cannot let the family fall apart.

Both of them felt the weight of their guilt crushing their bones. Yves is such a kind man for caring about their wellbeing although his partner is a victim of a horrible crime done by their child. It was such a nice gesture, they thought he had a heart of gold that withstood the blows of the steely mallet of cruelty. They wished so badly for this to never happened, they wished to make it right but they couldn't afford to. They had no idea how to. Especially when Yves filed for a restraining order against them shortly after.

So they carried on. Appreciating the goodies and savoring them. Among the pristine jewelry, there was a suncatcher with charming little gems woven in intricate patterns. Mr. Jones found it quite nice and decided to hang it on his rear-view mirror. It garnered quite a handful of compliments from his clients and friends alike. There is a gorgeous necklace that pairs well with all his wife's outfits, so she would wear them regularly and receive praise from her coworkers.

The piece of decor really helped to bring the living room together, the couple would catch themselves smiling at it, as the item reminded them of Yves's goodwill.

The glassware made the gifted wines taste better by elevating their appearance, they sounded delightful too when clinked together.

Eventually, his wife moved back into the master bedroom, the lit candles from Yves's basket smelled heavenly and relaxed their nerves especially when they had rough days at work.

They were enjoying them too much to connect the dots.

They thought the clumps of hair that fell in the showers were due to stress with all the legal shenanigans going on. The frequent headaches and strange sores that appeared around the chest of Mr. Jones's wife, and Mr. Jones's forehead were probably due to the immense pressure they were facing due to financial instability.

They worked long hours every day, so it made sense to feel fatigued and dizzy sometimes. Except it isn't normal to feel it almost daily.

The frequent vomiting and diarrhea must have been due to stress. It couldn't be from the chocolates, that were eaten weeks ago! The doctors told them that their weakened immune system from overworking made them susceptible to the most rudimentary of diseases. They're just unlucky to have caught a stomach bug from somewhere.

That explains the frequent fevers too, they're hindering their ability to work. Mr. Jones kept losing clients because they also fell ill with similar symptoms. He was double-masked, but nothing seemed to stop the spread of this mystery virus.

The tests showed nothing out of the ordinary for them, except the bacteria or virus of the illness they were suffering at the time. They felt horrible for thinking Yves had tampered with the food, especially after sending it to a lab for analysis to come back negative for any poisons or biohazardous materials.

They had their house tested for mold. Nothing. The husband and wife had to spend a weekend off to try and locate whatever was causing their prolonged sickness. They cleaned everything, from top to bottom, and eradicated every particle of dust in their home. Still, it persists.

The couple couldn't smell, hear, see, or feel anything out of the ordinary, it is making them go insane. They couldn't figure out for the life of them, what is slowly leading them to their death?

They're tired. Too tired to wonder why their electronics are glitching out and sometimes even shutting down randomly. Their cameras are weirdly taking fuzzy pictures, this is especially annoying to Mrs. Jones, when she has to scan a photo of a document only to come out distorted and illegible.

They're exhausted. Too exhausted to question the doctors who kept telling them that they were fine, they must have been simply too stressed. The only remedy was to stop working as much and worrying too much. Fully believing the couple would bounce back to full health when they heed their advice. Thinking that their immune system would regain strength to fight against the constant infections. The professionals were too busy, too apathetic to look a bit closer. To peek into the microscope once more.

They would have found unusual alterations in their red blood cells' DNA and white blood cell count. But they didn't, dooming the Jones to a terrible fate.

Mr. Jones kept forgetting his routes, stumbling over his words as he would experience bouts of confusion. Mrs. Jones would misremember where she put her important documents or the agreed time when she had to meet her supervisors.

The couple has lost a substantial amount of weight, they were ghoulish and sickly, finding it a challenge to even handle their own body weight. They're in constant agony every minute, and neither can sleep it off or ignore the pain, there isn't much they can do without knowing the cause of their misery.

But they kept going on. They have to for the sake of their family. For the sake of Evangeline.

The Jones only has a couple more weeks to find out what is causing these before it's too late. However, being this severely mentally and physically incapacitated led them to miss a laughably straightforward solution of buying a Geiger Muller Counter. Especially when Mr. Jones knew Yves has a strong background in mathematics and physics.

Mr and Mrs Jones held onto each other as they closed their eyes after retiring early for the day, praying that this wouldn't be their last night in this world.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader

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sickficideas · 5 months

Note

Hello it’s me, Rui again (idk if you remember me, i left an appreciation comment a while ago)

but I have Chuuya headcanons if your interested (I’ve never wirrten headcanons out before so I’m sorry if they are bad help) I’m so embarrassed writing this

(if you end up liking them i can definitely talk to you about Akutagawa headcanons too if you want lmao)

Chuuya is nauseous for days after using corruption and dazai has to do his best at taking care of him (he sucks at it)

Having Arahabaki inside him causes him to need a lot more rest than the average person. Most of the time he tries to ignore this due to his loyalty to his work and he ends up either passing out or making himself sick for weeks because of it

Arahabaki in a small body like his makes it so that he tends to eat a lot more food than the average person due to energy being consumed faster. When he gets sick he tends to bring up a lot more.

Arahabaki loves to scream in Chuuyas head, causing him to get major migraines. Even when Dazai touches him, the nausea doesn’t usually leave

Chuuya usually ends up vomiting the second that corruption is nullified

HC (Kunikida bashing, i love Kunikida but i need chuuya to suffer so i can have Soukoku content) once chuuya ran to the agency office to get dazai to shut arahabaki up, but he ended up throwing up all over the agency floor and Kunikida yelled at him making his migraine worse, sending him into a panic attack. Dazai ran to his aid

chuuya often can’t make it to the bathroom in time because his migraine make it so that he can’t see or walk properly. Dazai usually keeps a bin nearby his bed during these times

chuuya has such a large amount of pride that he’s afraid of throwing up in fear that dazai will think he’s disgusting so he usually tries pushing him away (it doesn’t work)

arahabaki gives him the worst migraines when he’s stressed

due to past lab experiences, chuuya usually goes to sleep/passes out when he’s stressed because then he doesn’t have to deal with the pain. When he wakes up however, the pain isn’t gone

anyway that’s all i have for now. i was so embarrassed writing that honestly, but your so nice and accepting to everyone that I thought it would be okay. my headcanons aren’t great, but please tell me your thoughts on them qwq

I might make more if they end up being good enough or enjoyable qwq

sorry for bothering you ahhh

Rui!!!! Of course I remember you!!!!! Thank you for this beautiful list of headcanons these are absolutely fantastic and perfect inspiration for fics...don't be embarrassed or think these aren't great, I love them I'm so glad you took the time to write these and send them to me!!!!! Please feel free to send more in the future I'd be so happy to read them 💖💖 (and will certainly take you up on the offer for Akutagawa hehe you know I'll never turn down any content for him)

I really really love Corruption related whump for Chuuya it never fails to interest me....being sick as soon as it's switched off is so good because he has zero control over it, once he's conscious enough to understand what's happening it stresses him out even more...and the migraines !!! Chuuya is a perfect migraine candidate!!!!! I'm in love with your detail about them causing him to have trouble walking and seeing underrated symptom that's perfect for him 😭 especially since he usually carries himself very well it's super obvious to Dazai that he's struggling once his steps start to shift and he isn't picking up his feet right...catching him 😭😭😭 catching him whenever he passes out ughhhh my favorite....i just generally really love this idea of him often having zero control of when and where he throws up i know it super stresses him out ....💔💔💔💔💔💔

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cosmos-coma · 5 months

Text

Sick Days- Bucky Barnes

A/N: We interrupt your regularly scheduled chapter to say.... I'm sick AGAIN. Its been just about 2 weeks since I fully recovered from my cough (and almost 6 weeks since I first showed symptoms last time.) I've been under a lot of stress lately to find a job so I can pay my bills, but hopefully the recovery from this round is faster.

pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

Words: 1472

Warnings: gender neutral reader (no pronouns), NO Y/N (just 'Doll'), Sick reader, just a whole lot of fluff and soft Bucky, passively edited.

Bucky Masterlist

______________________

It started as just a funny feeling in your chest, you couldn’t really describe it, but you didn’t let it worry you.

Then, the next morning you spent 10 minutes coughing up the worst-tasting phlegm you’d ever imagined. Thinking that that was the last of it, you mentioned nothing of it to the team, the doctor, or your overly concerned boyfriend. But as the night went on and your throat began to dry, that little cough tip-toeing back in, you knew it would be worse than you had assumed. But you still ignored it for the most part; Nothing a good swig of NyQuil and some rest couldn’t do. You’d deal with it in the morning.

But now here you were in bed, wool socks on, two sweatshirts wrapped around you, and piles and piles of blankets over top, yet you were still shivering as if you had just stepped outside naked in the middle of winter. You had tried a shower, but it only warmed half of you, the other half just standing cold and wet away from the spray. You had even tried your microwavable hot pack; it worked for a while, but its heat dwindled quickly with time.

An unproductive cough forced its way out of your throat, following itself up with a throbbing headache at the spike in pressure. “Fuuuuuuuuuck,” you groaned, but it only came out as an unintelligible groan.

Though your body shivered and your muscles ached, you still found bits to be thankful for. Your nose- while slightly pressurized- still let you breathe through it, and your throat had yet to feel any of its usual soreness; they were small victories, but victories nonetheless.

However, as time passed and you lay awake listening to the sounds of the tower you were beginning to get disoriented. Was it lack of sleep? Or maybe it was dehydration? Or perhaps…. Wait, what were you thinking of again? Hm… oh well, must not have been that important.

Anyways, where were we? Ah, right-

You waited patiently for Bucky to come back from the kitchen, now regretting asking him for tea instead of just asking him to lay with you. He had been so worried when he heard you say that you were sick that he immediately sprang into action. He knew you never really liked relying on people; you were always the one taking care of others- whether you wanted to or not- so when the two of you started dating it had been quite an adjustment to get you to sit back and let him do the work.

“Hey, Doll… Are you awake…?” He called quietly, nudging the door open with his foot as he carried a tray piled high. He made his way over toward the large lump underneath the blankets, dipping the bed as he sat, “Is this you or is this just a pile of pillows?” he asked with a poke.

“No, it’s me. I’m up…” you groaned as you peeked out over the warmth of the blanket to look, and when you saw you couldn’t help but laugh weakly at your ridiculously loving boyfriend. His tray was piled high with everything you could need; a nice bowl of soup, some fresh fruit, cold medicine, tea, a hot towel- he had brought everything he thought might help you.

“What’s all this..? I thought I only asked for tea…” you said with a nasally voice and a smile, braving the cold of the room as you sat up, “fuck, is it freezing in here to you…?” You pulled your knees to your chest in an effort to keep warm despite the way your aching muscles protested.

Bucky’s brows drew together as he set the tray aside, “I thought I’d make sure you had all you needed. You’re still cold…?” Concern laced his voice as his metal hand rubbed up and down your leg, “Can we try some soup first? You need to warm up from the inside.” he advised. Gentle, loving hands helped you sit up further, even going so far as to feed you spoonfuls of soup.

You snorted and rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed just how much you loved it, “Bucky, I’m not a child. I can feed myself…” you argued, your smile dissolving into soft laughter as he began to fly the spoon around like an airplane at your remark.

“Ah, come on, Doll. Please let me take care of you…? ” he chuckled as he tried to play it off, but you could see in his eyes that he needed this, he needed to make sure you were going to be okay. Your heart squeezed pleasantly at the knowledge that you had someone so incredibly dedicated to you, and you nodded.

“Alright, Big guy...” you relented with a grin, downing the spoonful of soup, “Thank you… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You swallowed with a hum, enjoying the way its warmth traveled through your body quickly.

You breathed a sigh of relief, closing your eyes and savoring the love and spices that went into it. However after your 5th or 6th spoonful your stomach began to turn, churning uncomfortably as you thought about taking another bite. “Ugh…” you groaned, holding Bucky’s hand still before he could offer you another spoonful, “Wait, hold on….”

“What is it? Is it not good?”He asked, “I tried to copy my mother’s old recipe but it’s a little fuzzy after 70 years on ice…” He looked down, sniffing the bowl quizzically, It didn’t smell perfectly like his mother’s, but it didn’t seem that bad either.

“No, no, it’s good… I just- I’m not sure my stomach is strong enough right now.” You sighed as you let go of his hand, looking away from the soup so your stomach could finally settle. “I’m sorry, I know you worked hard and -”

“Hey, no. Don’t be sorry,” he smiled softly as he put the bowl aside, “I know sickness does weird things to your appetite… but we need another way to warm you up now.”

You wasted no time pulling back the covers, your sweatshirt coming off in record time before you reached out to him, “Well, they say body heat is the best way to keep warm in emergency situations. It’s just science…” You reasoned as your fingers urged him toward you. You may have still been adjusting to having someone else care for you, but if there was one thing you’d cave to without fail, it was cuddling your super soldier.

“Ah, of course… and this is an emergency after all.” His grin spread warmth through you as he climbed in, peeling off a few of his own layers for maximum skin-to-skin contact.

You settled easily onto his chest, your head tucked neatly into the crook of his neck, and as you lay against his super-heated skin you felt your whole body melt away. Relaxation and warmth crept along your muscles as his warm calloused hand glided down your back, squeezing and rubbing your aching muscles as he went along.

“Wait, fuck- go back down… further… not there you pervert- up, now to the left…! Ooooooh, yeah. right there…” You moaned as he rubbed firmly into the small of your back.

A gentle laugh rumbled through his chest and into you, as you called him out, his hand turning to massage his knuckles along the perfect spot and eliciting an even dirtier-sounding moan from your lips.

“You jerk… Why are you so good at this..?” you sighed blissfully as your back cracked with a satisfying pop.

“What? At making you moan..?” your boyfriend teased, “Just had a lot of practice I guess… You know how dedicated I am to my craft,” He laughed as he kissed your shoulder’s warming skin, and snuck his hands lower…

You snorted, gently thwapping his arm… “Alright, big guy, behave yourself… I’m too sick for your kinda ‘cold remedy’ today “

A beaming grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arms firmly around your middle, his stubble rubbing against your face as he kissed your temple. “I’ll behave, I’ll behave..” he mumbled against your hairline, lips staying pressed against your soft skin.

A quiet moment passed where you two lay with nothing but comfortable silence between you. All kidding and jokes fell by the wayside as soft kisses passed beneath the blankets from body to body

A warm smile pulled at your lips as you closed your tired eyes, “Thank you for taking care of me today, Buck…. Always really. I can't imagine how miserable I’d be without you.” You laid your heart bare, appreciation evident in your voice. “I’m so lucky I have you,” you pressed another kiss to his stubbly skin, “I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too, Doll. More than you’ll ever know.”

__________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity

It's been a while since I've written for Bucky (almost a year), so if I've missed you/you want to be added to the taglist, DM me to let me know!

#Its been a long time since ive written for Bucky so please be kind #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #james barnes x reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james bucky barnes x reader #James Bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic

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techwrecker · 1 month

Note

Something ANGSTY and FLUFFY with CROSSHAIR (if you’re any good at that, ik some writers struggle in some areas)

For Her

Summary: Crosshair struggles with his PTSD from Tantiss that manifests in his hands.

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Minor season 3 spoilers, no plot spoiling

Tags: angst, hurt comfort, light fluff

TW: mention of death, mention of character canon death, ptsd symptoms

A/N: this is probably more angst than fluff eheh... sorry ^^; I hope you enjoy anyways! If you see any grammatical mistakes, no you do not <3

cross-posted on my ao3 of the same name here

Crosshair’s hands didn’t shake when his mind was preoccupied. And right now, he was preoccupied by combat with his brother Echo.

Crosshair sat folded in concentration, elbows resting on his knees, mulling over the next possible Dejarik moves. Echo was sitting across from him, just as engaged as the sniper, though Crosshair couldn’t tell if his yawns were genuine exhaustion or a mediocre attempt to rush his turn. Either way, Crosshair wasn’t going to pass up a chance to win because somebody was trying to end the game quickly.

“C’mon, Cross. If you could manage a move during this rotation, I’d appreciate it.” The former ARC trooper quipped.

“Relax. I’m thinking,” he said in mild annoyance. “Nothing wrong with being careful and taking one’s time.” Crosshair hit a button on the board, causing the holo to shift as his character sauntered over and slayed Echo’s main player, leaving the match at a checkmate. “See? Patience is a virtue.” He said, smug with victory.

“Yeah, one of your only ones, too,” Echo shot back with a smile, pressing the shut-off button on the entertainment table. Crosshair couldn’t help the small smirk that crept onto his face. Echo stood up and extended his good arm out across the dark table for a handshake. “Good game, as usual, Crosshair.”

Crosshair took his brother’s hand, and they shook. As Echo walked away to his bunk, Crosshair sat back down, massaging his hand at the palm. His hands didn’t shake when his mind was thinking about a task at hand, but once it was quiet, it was all he could do to keep them still. He held his hands out in front of him, watching them twitch. He squeezed them into fists in an attempt to calm the shot nerves and shut them out from his mind. Crosshair leaned back into his chair and shoved his still lightly trembling hands deep into his pockets. This was not an attempt to keep them steady but rather if they were out of sight, they were out of mind. And for the most part, it worked.

It was unusual for the ship to be as quiet as it was. Hunter and Wrecker took Omega out to the Pabu market before it shut down for the day so they could grab some dinner for the crew. Since being informally stationed on Pabu for the past month or so, Wrecker had acquired quite an affinity for cooking and Omega was more than eager to help him. Each night, they came home with a new recipe from a local vendor. And before Eriadu, anybody within a 20 foot radius of The Marauder could’ve heard Tech’s tinkering, but ever since…

No. He wouldn’t think about that. He couldn’t. Not without completely breaking down. Crosshair was still a soldier. Whether he was tied to the Republic, the Empire, or to his brothers, he had to be strong. But, ever since Omega saved him from Mount Tantiss, from Hemlock’s unending torture, Crosshair had trouble finding it in himself to return to the steadfast man he once was. Things weren’t as black and white as he had once believed them to be. His brief loyalty to the Empire was misplaced, he knew that now. Maybe had he stayed true to his brothers, Tech would still be alive. He didn’t deserve that fate– nobody did. Not when Crosshair could have prevented it. Had he not chosen to be a “good soldier” for the Empire’s evil. Crosshair couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault. Omega’s capture. Tech’s death. And the worst part was that they all held him with kiddie gloves, like he was made of glass, destined to shatter at any moment.

Crosshair could feel the headache coming. He stood up and opened the hatch of their home. The wind rushed in, whipping the scent of the salty sea around him. It was humid, but not oppressive. He hoped the fresh air would clear his mind. Making his way down the loading ramp and onto the weathered cobblestone of the island’s square, he could hear the people of Pabu in the lower levels starting to call their children in for dinner. Thankfully, due to pleasant weather, the market was taking place on the beach, far below where the Marauder was parked atop the island. The pinnacle was mostly empty, so Crosshair didn’t have to be greeted by the well-meaning citizens. He kept walking until he reached the lookout point not far from the ship.

The sun had already begun dipping into the vast, dark sea as it painted the sky in all its deserving beauty. Scattered across the strip of beach, Crosshair could see vendors beginning to flip on their candleorbs.

He pulled his rifle from behind his back and placed it into position against his shoulder as he’d done a thousand times before. Making sure the safety was on before pointing it down towards the beach, he peered into the scope, looking for his family. It wasn’t hard to spot the crew, as they were a stark contrast from the linen-clothed locals. That paired with Wrecker’s resonant voice, which could probably carry across the planet, made them easy to find.

Through the viewfinder, he could see Omega reaching into a basket for a fruit he had never seen before, her mouth moving. She turned around to show Hunter the new food and he smiled at her, dropping a few coins of the Pabuian currency into her free hand.

Crosshair didn’t realize he was smiling at the scene. He was glad she was safe now. Maker knows she deserved to be. Especially after everything the child had to endure.

He continued to trail the scope along until he found Wrecker, not far ahead. He was practically towering over all the booths. Crosshair tried to use the scope’s zooming feature to see what he was holding, but at such a distance, it was hard to tell.

The rifle began to tremble slightly in the sniper’s hands. He furrowed his brows in concentration and tried to hold his position as rigid as he could, but it was no use. He ripped his face away from the scope and held the rifle out in front of him in frustration. All he saw in his hands was his mistakes. He unlatched the scope and tore it from the barrel before brashly throwing it off the ledge of the lookout. Crosshair wouldn’t dare to damage his precious weapon, but he couldn’t bear to look at the scope any longer. Once he heard the distant clink of metal against the climbing stairs of Pabu, he laid the weapon on the stone wall, his hand lingering with regret for a second longer.

He turned back toward the Marauder and began to walk away. He didn’t want it in his sight anymore but, as a formally trained sniper, it was hard not to be in his sight. The very thing that he had found security in as a cadet now made him shameful. The very purpose he was created for was stripped from his identity without remorse by the Empire. What’s the use in having a weapon if you can’t protect your family?

Thankfully, as Crosshair approached the loading ramp, he could tell by the light snoring coming from Echo’s bunk, that his brother was napping soundly. He pulled out a toothpick from his chest pocket as he made his way to the cockpit. He didn’t like being alone so much anymore, so he lifted his feet up onto the dash, careful to avoid any switches that might start the engine and tried to follow in Echo’s footsteps for a nap.

He had just about nodded off when Batcher’s quick footsteps disturbed the quiet evening. Crosshair lifted a single lid and squinted out of the viewport and saw Omega riding atop Batcher, the pair headed for The Marauder. Besides clutching Batcher’s fur, she had a cylindrical object in her right hand.

Crosshair took his feet down and sat up to open the loading bay door for Omega.

“Cross!” She called frantically. “Cross where are you?”

“I’m here, Omega.” He said, meeting her at the door. “What’s wrong?”

She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face into his torso. He gingerly laid a hand on her shoulder and knelt down to meet her at eye-level as she pulled away. She looked deeply into his eyes, her own filled with concern.

“I thought something had happened to you!” Her eyes had begun to fill with tears and her face started to flush pink.

“No, I’m alright. Why would you think that?” He asked.

Omega swiped at her tears with the back of her hand before offering up the scope he had thrown away. She opened her hand flat. The black metal was scratched and the glass inside had shattered. “I thought maybe somebody had taken you.”

Crosshair placed his hand over hers, wrapping her fingers back around the scope and lowering it in rejection. “No. I don’t want that.”

“What do you mean?” Omega said with a sniff.

“I can’t do that. Not anymore.” He said shortly. He didn’t want to bring up Tech. He didn’t want to explain his feelings of inadequacy to her. Not when she was the one who had saved him in the first place. It should have been him. He should have been the one to save her. He was pathetic and he knew everybody around him thought that, too.

“I understand, Crosshair.” She started. “You feel like you don’t have a purpose anymore. I used to feel that way, back on Kamino.”

She took his hand and they sat, leaning against the navicomp on the floor together. “I always wondered why I was different from the other clones. I wasn’t trained like everybody else, but nobody would explain my purpose to me.”

“Omega, I-“ Crosshair tried to escape the conversation.

“No, let me finish.” She interrupted, and he shut his mouth.

“All of you had a clear purpose. The Kaminoans designed you that way. But me? There was nothing special about me. I’m not a sharpshooter and I don’t have heightened senses. I’m definitely not as big as Wrecker and nobody is as smart as Tech was.’

Crosshair winced at the sound of his fallen brother’s name.

“But then I finally met you all, my brothers! And I realized what my purpose was. It may not be what they created me for on Kamino, but I know it to be true in my heart. My purpose is to protect my brothers. To protect you,” she explained.

Crosshair could feel the sting of his tears as they started to fall down his slender face.

“Omega,” he began softly, “I’m so sorry. For everything."

The tears wouldn't stop. She pulled him in for a hug and he let her. The two sat together as Crosshair silently let the emotions wash over him. And Omega let him. She knew Crosshair had not come to terms with everything he went through on Tantiss or with the Empire. But, she was observant and saw how his hands would tremble if he didn’t keep himself busy. She knew he needed this and she also knew he wouldn’t confide in any of their brothers like this. Even Batcher sensed something was wrong and came over to lay her head in Crosshair’s lap.

After a couple of minutes, Crosshair pulled away and straightened against the ship. He cleared his throat and looked down at Omega. She was smiling sweetly at him. Not with pity, but with understanding. With her signature kindness. Batcher hopped up and tried to lick his face, pulling them out of the moment.

“Batcher, that is truly disturbing,” Crosshair said in disgust as he tried to shove her off.

Omega laughed and Crosshair smiled.

“When did you get so wise?” He asked the young girl.

“Since I became a big sister!” She joked.

Hunter and Wrecker showed up not long after, arms full with their food supplies for the night. Wrecker had also managed grab a bag of Mantell Mix to split with Omega. If they didn’t have anything to munch on while making dinner, there would be no dinner to speak of.

“So, I guess you’re okay, then,” Hunter said, vaguely gesturing to Crosshair with his hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… having a rough go of it, I suppose.” Crosshair answered. It was slightly more information than he would typically give away about his emotional state. Hunter knew well enough not to push him.

“Well good,” Wrecker chimed in. “‘Cuz I’m starving!”

“I’ll wake up Echo so we can get started!” Omega hopped up from the floor and rushed over to his bunk. The rest of the crew headed outside to start the fire.

The saturated colors of sunset were still stretched across the sky as the sun continued to pass behind the horizon. That was one of Pabu’s specialties. Due to the atmosphere and the reflections off the ocean, the sunsets lasted much longer than it did on any other planet the Bad Batch had ever been to.

Crosshair walked back out to the lookout once more to retrieve his rifle. He couldn’t leave it. For as much grief as it was giving him, he would always come back to it. He had no other choice. He slung it back over his shoulder and returned to the group to help prep their dinner.

As dinner waned into the evening, the stars crept upon the little family. They all crowded around the fire and told funny stories to Omega about each other from their time serving the Republic. And Echo had plenty from when he was still with the 501st. The little clone intentionally sat next to Crosshair during dinner to give him a prevailing sense of comfort over his anxieties.

“And so I said to Cross,” Hunter said, finishing his story between chuckles, “Cross, that’s a Tooka!”

The crew burst into laughter at the story.

“Did you really think it was a battle droid?” Omega asked her seatmate in disbelief.

“Unfortunately, yes...” He trailed off.

“Alright,” Echo began. “The fire is dying and we should probably head in soon. Hunter and I will clean up since Wrecker, Omega, and Cross made dinner.”

“Thanks, Echo!” She beamed at him.

“Yeah, thanks!” Wrecker said as he slapped Echo’s back in gratitude.

It was probably a little harder than he meant as Echo stumbled forward. He turned his head to give Wrecker a dirty look. The biggest batcher just shrugged sheepishly.

“Come with me, Crosshair. I want to look at the stars over the lookout.” Omega requested.

Crosshair picked up their dishes and handed them to Hunter, nodding in thanks. The pair made their way to the lookout point.

The stars were in full view, brilliantly shining in every color imaginable. This was something neither of them would ever get used to.

Crosshair held out his hand to Omega so she could climb onto the wall. She smiled up at him and took it gladly. She swept her legs over the side and tilted her head up to the sky, eyes wide in wonder. She kept her eyes on the sky but Crosshair was watching her.

He hadn’t ever been one to talk much, even before all the events that transpired, but he didn’t think he would ever find enough of or the right kind of words to tell Omega how thankful he was for her.

He lifted a leg over the wall and sidled up to his sister, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

Omega wouldn’t always be a child, and she certainly wouldn’t need her brothers to protect her forever. But, looking into the galaxy here, together, Crosshair resolved his new purpose. He would make the galaxy a safer place. For her.

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dissociacrip · 5 months

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this turned into a long adhd rant whoopsie

it really does suck how people seem to downplay autism and adhd now lol. autism has been reduced to people who can mask and have low support needs and adhd hasn't really changed from its status as a joke.

i don't talk about adhd much but it probably gets in the way of me being able to function just as much, if not more than autism does (in my personal situation) when it comes to mental disability. not showering enough. not cooking. not cleaning my living space properly. forgetting to brush my teeth. dishes sitting in the sink for so long they start getting moldy. only being able to maybe do 1-3 tasks a day maximum because my brain can't organize itself enough to do more than that. difficulty committing to things and being consistent in overarching ways. being late to things a lot. highly impaired verbal recall so i forget things people say to me, forget verbal instructions, etc. on top of the other acutely stressful situations that come with memory and regulating my attention span (e.g. locking my keys in my car or locking myself out of my house when i have a very limited support network to remediate those situations.)

my meds barely touch this stuff for me and i'm not especially inclined to increase the dosage after bordering on psychosis when i was taking 40mg of vyvanse. i've just become so accustomed to living the way that i do (because my case is pretty bad afaik) so i can't just will myself to be another way. any efforts i make to change or be more organized and routine and consistent end up getting dashed away because i just cannot do it lol. my shit just doesn't work. adhd is a massive barrier between me and being a functioning person or being able to take care of myself. i'm pretty sure would still be a "gross" and unpalatable disabled person even if my muscles worked and i didn't have POTS/etc. that also get in the way of my hygiene and the cleanliness of my living space.

that doesn't even go into how other people react to it. a good chunk of physical and verbal abuse i faced from my family as a child was related to my adhd symptoms. i was diagnosed at a young age but my parents "forgot" it happened and it was never addressed otherwise. i got constantly called disgusting for my hygiene problems and was threatened with violence over it (on top of the times where i was actually getting assaulted.) people take my impaired verbal recall and lack of impulse control irt accidentally cutting people off or interrupting them personally, accusing me of not caring enough when it's something that is extremely difficult to be aware of or manage when adhd is a condition that distinctly involves impaired awareness of your own behavior.

so when i see shit like "just set alarms" or anything else that amounts to "you're not trying hard enough" or adhd not very much being a disability, especially when it's coming from other people w/ adhd, it kinda makes me wanna stab things with knives.

sure, it's not the worst condition ever, but just like most other disabilities, the way it affects everyone who is it is different and some are gonna be able to manage it better than others. sure, there a lot of really fucking annoying people (usually able-bodied) w/ adhd on social media that have large platforms and who very often profit from or encourage liberal pop psych bullshit when it comes to adhd, but it's still very much a disability. it can affect hygiene. it can affect employment or otherwise means of earning an income. it can affect our social lives and whether we have a support system. it can affect whether someone can keep their house from getting infested with bugs or mold. it is very much something that causes dysfunction in ways that aren't nearly as cutesy as the little comics you might see on instagram are drawn.

just remember that.

#actuallyadhd #adhd problems #adhd brain #adult adhd #ableism #j #brain log

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mad-scientist-enthusiast · 2 months

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"The Haunted Flesh Machine"

@plaguedghosts @iwrotesomeofitdown @notjustanyannie

Here is my slam poem. Thank you for the encouragement!

I'd like to preface this by saying it is a poem of my struggles and fears, and this should not be taken as the most mentally healthy or even correct writing.

CW: discussion of disordered eating, slight suicidal ideation, a little bit of internalized ableism

I’m losing my grip on reality. Each hour of the day slips from beneath my fingertips before I can even close my hand.

My motor functions are so much slower these days.

I walk through a persistent haze, going through the motions, but I am never present for them. My body acts on autopilot, but the battery is on low.

I’m smart—I always have been—I’m an engineer for crying out loud—but I don’t think I can access that anymore. My intelligence is locked behind a firewall in my brain.

Do you know how insane that is? Being unable to use your own mind?

All my judgments are tinted because the brightness is turned down. I think my brain is in battery-saver mode.

The fatigue is the worst because I can feel it all throughout my body. No amount of sleep seems to recharge me. I am perpetually tired and confused and dizzy and unaware.

I’m sure my eating habits don’t help. I’m just putting water in my gas tank. No amount of Fanta Orange and Lucky Charms is going to make up for the entire sections of the food pyramid I am missing. I try to start my brain up, but water isn’t quite nearly as combustible, and I end up with no output.

I want to be in control. I want my body to work. I don’t want my vision to get darker with every step I take.

Another day, another near-emergency. My heart beats too fast, my blood pressure falls too low. Sometimes presyncope lasts for longer than it needs to.

Sometimes I change colors like a chameleon on its deathbed.

My code is flagging for errors, but I’m running it anyway.

I think my computer is getting overheated. My face is hot to the touch.

If this was the Victorian Era, my symptoms would be romanticized. There’s something poetic about wasting away.

I fear that I’m getting weaker by the week.

Another day, another new problem. Which diagnosis does it fit under? I’m too tired to make a spreadsheet, not that I could log it if I did.

What month is it anyway? How many months have I been here? It seems like an eternity when I’m in pain, but time passes too quickly when I’m not.

I haven’t taken my meds in a while. I’ve given up on them working. Neglect is also a form of control.

I’m rotting inside. I’m rotting in my bed. I hardly leave my bed, but when was the last time I slept?

Surely this will have no repercussions.

I’m smart for a day, so my expectations are high, and as a result, my workload is too. I’m a workaholic on the days I’m present at all.

That’s who they see when they look at me. They don’t see that I’m sick. They don’t connect the dots on the days I wear a little less makeup than usual.

They don’t even bother to look.

I’m fighting for control over my mind and my body, and they are none the wiser.

If I were underweight, maybe they’d care a little. Maybe they’d treat me with a little more care. It’s easier to tell when something is wrong when you’re underweight.

I could collapse in the middle of a busy street and no one would even give it a second glance. They might even walk over me, thinking I was part of the sidewalk.

On the off chance they did see, what a shame it would be, for the one time I'm perceived, I lack bodily autonomy.

Is it worth being noticed when you're unconscious? Is it worth it if the one time I am seen is when I have no control over whether my mouth is hanging open or my shirt is riding up? I've spent so long meticulously curating the way I look to others, just to be totally helpless when it matters.

I can change my wallpaper but that doesn't make my phone work any better. And people don't see the wallpaper first, they see the cracks in the screen.

Sometimes I am conscious but not responsive. I lie like a corpse, observing, but not interacting as they crowd around me. Observing as they look at me.

They could not provide the help I need.

They only see me when I'm outside my body—a freakshow display of my vulnerability.

Maybe if I hit my head next time, I'll reboot. I could use a factory reset.

I often think of what it would be like to have a better brain. I think mine is haunted.

Do you have to be dead to be a spirit?

My head is possessed by a ghost that lurks in my nerves tissue and flesh. I hear it wail whenever I move, mourning a loss I cannot understand.

A restless spirit leads to a restless night, and each night I can't sleep I blame the ghost.

I wish sleep could fix me. I'm so tired all the time.

The ghost must be what powers my perpetual motion machine. Inertia isn’t enough. I keep going and going until eventually I explode.

I don’t think I’ll make it to my 40’s.

My body will break itself down until it can digest me, and I’ll eat myself like an ouroboros.

I don’t want to die, I just want to rest.

If I sleep for a good year, maybe I’ll feel human again. I would like to feel human again.

I dream that one day I will collapse, and people will rush me to the hospital. There, the doctors will find out exactly what is wrong with me, and that it can be treated by taking a pill. And then, I get better.

My face will look a little softer, my eyes a little less heavy. I’ll walk everywhere I go, and I’ll stand up in the mornings.

Maybe food will be less of a battle when I’m healthy.

Maybe I’ll burn in the atmosphere before I crash down to earth.

Right now, my collision course is set toward hospitals, tubes, and wires. I’ll only have to sign away my autonomy when I check-in.

Is there early prevention for a trojan virus?

Did I ever have a chance? Fated to keep running on empty until there’s nothing left to run.

I have no salvation, I am just a machine.

There is no happy ending for me.

#cripple punk #chronic illness #ARFID #disability #slam poetry #spoonie #invisible disability #my writing

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jynrso · 9 months

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some of it remains (but your love is unmoved)

hey all! this is the fic that i've been working hard on over the past few weeks. it's the first fresh piece i've written in over a year – the oneshot i posted a few weeks ago ("not without me / not without you") had a rough draft and outline so i had a bit to go off. this was a completely new story and i didn't intend for it to be this long. . .13.5 and 6k words later, here we are! jyn's experiences are based on my own. i got a concussion about 3.5 years ago and i still get icepick headaches to this day (that i never got before). while i don't get migraines, they are pretty bad. when i was thinking to myself about jyn's role as a brawler, i figured she'd get hit in the head pretty often –– and from that, this fic was born. title from "as it was" by hozier read it on ao3!

Jyn Erso has always had a remarkably thick skull.

Not in the sense that she isn’t intelligent. Rather, ever since she’d learned how to fight, she’d quickly found that she could bounce back from blows to the head quicker than her comrades. Hits that would render other Partisans unconscious usually only dazed her; if she got knocked down, she pushed herself back up in seconds, returning to the fight with her brutal efficiency hindered only slightly by slight dizziness and a burgeoning headache.

As a brawler, with the reach of her truncheons keeping her in close contact with her targets, she’s more exposed than a long-distance soldier. Though her armor absorbs many of the hits she takes, by favoring hand-to-hand combat, it’s not uncommon for her skin to be littered with various bruises and abrasions from hits she’s doled out and ones she’s taken in return. Even with her gloves, her hands often take the brunt of the damage; out of every place on her body, her hands are the most heavily scarred.

But despite her fighting prowess and experience on the battlefield, she’s had her fair share of close calls. Even she isn’t completely unaffected by someone slamming the butt of their blaster against her skull. The scar snaking up from the top of her forehead into her hairline speaks to that; a few years ago, she’d been hit so hard by a stormtrooper that it had not only knocked her out but also needed stitches –– ones she had to do herself without the credits for proper medical care. It had never healed right, the scar angry and raised to this day, but she’d escaped with her life . . . and only a few consequences.

The chronic headaches –– the bad ones –– had begun during her stint in an underground fighting ring, just after Saw abandoned her on Tamsye Prime. In an attempt to earn enough credits to survive, she’d played her strengths to her advantage and fought numerous other sentients for money. Though she’d won more fights than lost, her opponents usually got in a hit or two; and, with the lack of protective gear, the blows she’d taken had often been more debilitating, especially in the aftermath.

But in the middle of a war, a headache here or there is hardly her biggest problem.

It’s not like she’s bleeding out or has any open wounds. A stim shot usually takes care of the worst of the symptoms and dims them to a more manageable level. And when that doesn’t work, in the years after Saw, she’d hole up somewhere dark and quiet and ride it out for a few days by herself. With her high pain tolerance, she can push through just about anything, even if it means spending a few hours incapacitated.

Her last . . . episode had been right after Scarif. She doesn’t remember much of what’d happened after Bodhi had picked her and Cassian up from the beach but she recalls moments of blinding pain. The agony from her burns from the blast had only just been overshadowed by the splitting in her skull, feeling as if someone had taken an axe and cleaved her in two.

Ever since, however, she’s managed to keep her headaches under control and everyone else in the dark. But with the recent destruction of Alderaan and the move from Yavin IV to Hoth, it’s only a matter of time. With the amount of pressure and stress slowly building up on her shoulders, she just hopes that she’s alone when the inevitable happens, and strong enough to ride out the pain when it comes.

When Jyn wakes, unusually bleary-eyed and out of it, Cassian’s no longer in bed next to her.

The sheets on his side have long gone cold. Faintly, in the back of her mind, she remembers him leaving earlier that morning; before his departure, he’d briefly woken her up with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered urge to go back to sleep. Not recalling much more than that, she assumes that she’d fallen back asleep and pushes herself up into a sitting position.

As soon as she moves, a slow, heavy ache makes itself known in her left eye, radiating back toward her skull. She curses softly, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, hoping that the pressure will help ease the oncoming pain, but to no avail. Even when she presses harder, digs her fingers into her hairline, the steady throbbing beats in time with her heartbeat.

A pit sinks in her stomach. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, the pain of it a distraction. Even though her head doesn’t pound badly now, she knows from experience it’ll only get worse as the day goes on. And if this is one of those headaches. . .

Fuck, and she actually has shit to do today. She and Cassian are flying out in the afternoon for a surveillance and scouting operation at the abandoned rebel base on Dantooine. Bodhi’s swinging by later –– shit, maybe sooner than she thinks, glancing at the chrono and seeing what time it is –– to help her get the ship ready while Cassian takes care of the pre-flight briefing with Draven.

Okay. Okay. She exhales, throwing her arm over her eyes as she lays on her back in the messy remnants of their bunk. It’s not the ideal situation but it could be worse –– she just has to get out of bed and get ready while her pain is still manageable. Then she just has to meet Bodhi, get to the ship, and take off for Dantooine without indicating something is wrong, then find somewhere hidden and quiet to ride it out by herself.

(There’s no way in hell Cassian is going to let her get away with that, a small voice in the back of her mind reminds her but she pushes that thought away for now. Once they get into the air, she can figure out an excuse. She just has to get there first. )

Groaning, Jyn hauls herself out of bed, wincing when the simple movement jars her already tender head. Without bothering to flip on the lip, she fumbles around in the dark, picking up random pieces of clothing they’d scattered across the ground the night before.

In the bathroom, biting back a curse as the cold finally begins to hit her, the warmth of sleep finally wearing off, she quickly gets ready in the relative silence and dimness of the ‘fresher.

There’s a basic medkit under the sink, equipped with bandages, a few bacta patches, and hyposprays. It’s meant for the occasions when either of them has minor injuries but doesn’t want to go to the medbay. Though it’s here for this purpose –– and she knows she should grab something –– she still hesitates. It’s not that bad (yet) and she’s pushed through worse. And there’ll be times in the future when they have a greater need for these supplies. . .

With her thoughts feeling like static, it’s difficult to concentrate enough to make a proper decision. Before she can, someone knocks on the door and shakes her from her daze. She flinches at the sound, wiping a shaky hand down her face as her head protests the sudden loud noise.

“Fuck,” she mutters, rocking forward on her heels and leaning forward against the sink, so far that her forehead nearly touches the smudged mirror. The medkit looms in her peripherals but she ignores it, convincing herself that she’ll be fine. (She’s always fine –– she has to be ).

In a burst of strength, she pushes up and away out of the bathroom, heading toward the door.

“Jyn!” Bodhi brightens when it opens, then almost immediately falls when he looks at her properly. “You –– you look like shit!”

“Thanks, Bo,” she mutters, leaning against the doorframe as she pulls on her boots. “Good morning to you, too.”

Frowning, he rubs the back of his neck as he peers in closer, head dipping down and wide eyes scrutinizing her disheveled appearance. “Well, it’s actually closer to afternoon, now, but –– ”

“Still morning,” she grunts, straightening. The edge of her vision goes fuzzy for a few seconds, threatening to white out completely; she steadies herself on the wall once again and exhales heavily, then forces herself upright.

“Do you –– do you need to go to the –– ”

“No,” she bites out forcefully. Her voice harsher is than she intends but the pain makes her feel brittle, fragile even, and she can’t help but overcompensate. “Just –– I just had a bit too much to drink last night. That’s all.”

Both of them are keenly aware of just how well she holds her liquor and Bodhi is much more observant than people give him credit for, especially around the people he cares about. He frowns, eyebrows tugging together, and while his expression tells her exactly what he’s thinking, he’s also picking up on the hidden details in her own.

But for whatever reason, either her voice or the stubborn look in her eyes, he doesn’t comment on her flimsy excuse and nods instead, perhaps not wanting to put up a fight when it’s clear she’s looking for one.

She doesn’t miss the concerned look in his eye when she walks out of the room a little slower than usual. He stays close to her as if expecting to catch her if she falls, arms nearly brushing as he keeps her pace.

His intense attention makes her uncomfortable, her ears reddening from the unfamiliar notion of having someone care about her. She’s fine. A headache isn’t anything to make a fuss over, and really, he’s making a big deal out of nothing.

“I checked out the ship you’re taking this morning,” he says, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as they navigate through the halls of Echo Base. She only half-listens, occasionally offering up hums of agreement as he speaks, but it’s growing more difficult to keep her focus solely on him. “There isn’t too much to do but . . .”

After a few minutes, they reach their destination. When the noise and brightness of the hangar bay hall hit her full force, Jyn sways on her feet, eyes closing as nausea swells low in her stomach. Bodhi grabs her elbow to keep her steady but she just barely feels the touch, the hammering in her head overshadowing every other sensation.

“ ––yn! Are you okay?”

Bodhi’s voice grows louder and more nervous with each passing second she fails to reply. Jyn barely manages to clamp down on her flinch, forcing her eyes open and gritting her teeth as her head protests.

“Fine,” she rasps, then licks her dry lips. Just one more hour, at most, and she can lie down; she just has to get to the ship first. “I’m fine. Where –– where’s the shuttle?”

He pauses, scrutinizing her once again. “Listen, if you’re not feeling well, we can––”

“I said I’m fine!” she reasserts, a bit harsher than she intends. Her head throbs at the raised tone of her voice. She sighs. “Look, can we just –– ”

It’s clear he doesn’t entirely believe her. With all the time they’ve spent together since Scarif, he knows what her normal behavior looks like –– and this isn’t it. “Jyn, you really should –– ”

Her eyes flash in irritation. She doesn’t need to be coddled. “If you want to stay here, be my guest. But I’m going to finish up packing the ship.”

Once again, he must see something in her face that ends any possible argument. For him, this is a losing battle. Sighing, his shoulders slump in the face of her stubbornness. “All right. Come on.”

Leading her to a ship in the back of the hangar, she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and pushing down the pain as best she can. No matter how lightly she steps, the impact of her boots against the ground sends electricity radiating up from her legs to her head, a dull thumping that seems to grow the longer she spends in the hangar bay.

She blinks and then they’re there. Almost robotically, she nods as Bodhi’s mouth opens and he begins to talk, only catching the tail end of whatever he says. He gestures toward the remaining crates of supplies that need to be loaded onto the shuttle and Jyn doesn’t bother to respond, turning toward them and setting her shoulders in preparation.

(With her back turned, she misses how his mouth thins, how he reaches out for her but drops his arm after a few seconds. She misses the determined set of his eyes, the way he seemingly comes to a decision before setting to work himself.)

It’s easy to lose herself in the repetitiveness of the task. With only the pain in her head to keep her company, she tunes out the rest of the hangar bay and loads up the ship. At least in there, the lights aren’t so bright and the noises around her are muffled some by the thick durasteel walls.

A blink and it’s done. It’s been –– how long has she been doing this, so lost in her head?

For a few seconds, she stands in the cargo bay and looks down at the crates without really seeing them. Her hands flex at her sides, fingers still primed to hold a box. But then a particularly painful jolt of pain goes through her eye and she hisses, pressing the palm of her hand against the socket. When it eases, her brain recircuits and she remembers her purpose, rocking back on her heels.

She turns to look for Bodhi, not finding him in the cockpit as expected. Instead, when she heads down the loading ramp to look for him, she sees him a few feet away, looking in her direction and talking in hushed voices with Cassian.

Jyn scowls in irritation, hands curling into fists at her side and marching over to them. She has a good idea of what Bodhi’s telling him –– that she’s been acting weird, that there’s something wrong with her, that she isn’t capable enough to go on the mission. All those thoughts jumble in her head at the same, overlapping and intensifying what’s already there.

“I’m fine!” she barks when she makes it over to them, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her chin up in defiance. Her jaw tightens, the muscles in her body bunching up and tensing. “I don’t know what he’s telling you but –– ”

Cassian holds up his hands and Bodhi takes a step back when faced with her sudden burst of rage. “We’re just going over take-off protocol since Bodhi isn’t coming with us on this one,” he explains gently.

Her anger deflates from her as quickly as it’d arrived and she closes her eyes briefly as her skull throbs in protest. Embarrassment at her outburst curls low in her gut but she refuses to let it show.

“Great,” she mutters, shoving her hands deep in her pockets and turning away from them. Her cheeks redden, ears burning beneath her hat. “I’ll be on the ship if you need me.”

If her behavior hadn’t been a cause for concern before, it certainly is now. She hunches in her coat, keeping her head down as she stalks to the shuttle, the snarl on her lips acting as armor to repel any stares from overly curious recruits that she gets on the way back.

Cassian isn’t far behind. She’s only been on the ship for a few beats before he joins her, standing close enough that there are only a few inches between them. When she looks back into the hangar bay, Bodhi’s still there, his body language anxious and worried in the distance.

She scowls, feeling betrayed and like they’re ganging up on her. She’s clearly fine –– she’d gotten everything on the ship quickly and efficiently. What complaints could they even have? When she turns away, she determinedly keeps her gaze focused on her datapad and makes a point not to look at Cassian, even when his presence

Finally, he breaks the stalemate, not bothering to pretend he doesn’t know something is wrong. “Bodhi says you’ve been off all morning.”

“Did he,” she says flatly, her eye twitching. Her mouth twists and she resolutely stares down at the datapad but not truly seeing the words on the screen.

“I’m not going to push you,” he replies steadily, his voice not changing despite the derision in hers. There’s no judgment, nothing but concern despite her growing frustration. ( Stars, she doesn’t deserve him. ) “But if something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

If he hasn’t picked up on it, then she must be successfully hiding the worst of her pain. When she turns to face him, she lets a little bit of her raggedness show, exhaustion written on her features. It’s not a lie, not truly, but a misdirection instead. Let him think this is the root of the issue. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

One of his eyebrows ticks up, likely remembering how she’d barely moved when he’d left their bed that morning. He doesn’t believe her, not entirely. But whatever he must see in her face must be enough to convince him that she’s all right for now.

He nods slowly, brows tugging together as he considers her words, but doesn’t drop the matter entirely. “You can sleep once we make it to hyperspace.”

It feels like an order rather than a request but she knows the decision is ultimately up to her. Too exhausted to disagree, the throbbing pain on one side of her head sapping all of the fight out of her body.

Cassian hesitates, giving her a chance to pull away, then reaches out to cup her cheek. She closes her eyes when his thumb brushes against her cheekbone rhythmically; it doesn’t relieve any pain but his touch soothes her, comforts her in a way that only he can do.

“Let’s finish getting the ship ready,” he says softly, and, eyes still closed, she nods once again.

It doesn’t take long for them to finish; apparently, Bodhi had gotten more done than she’d realized while she’d lugged crates of supplies back and forth. Feeling almost as if in a trance with only a dull throbbing pain to keep her company, before she even realizes it, they’ve completed everything else and prepped the shuttle for take-off.

(Dangerous, Saw’s voice barks in her head when she blinks in confusion, her body acting on auto-pilot as she buckles herself in and mechanically pulls on a pair of headphones. Just because you’re with someone you trust doesn’t mean you’re safe. Focus, my child.)

With one last wave to Bodhi, she closes the cargo bay door without another word and joins Cassian in the cockpit. Her limbs feel heavy, eyes squinting against the bright lights flashing on the dashboard. It takes her more than one try to get her seatbelt buckled in.

Numbly, she forces her awareness out of the cave in her mind and does her best to pay attention when Cassian completes the pre-flight checks. It only takes a few minutes –– she thinks, her thoughts feeling as if they’re moving through sludge –– before they’re up in the air.

“Calculating jump to hyperspace,” he says. She clenches her jaw, nods, and prepares herself.

The jump to hyperspace is worse than she’d expected. She presses the back of her head into her seat in an attempt to keep it steady and her white-knuckled hand gripping the armrests so tight she shakes. Against the roar of the engine, she inhales and exhales short puffs of air, eyes squeezed tight. It feels as if her brain is rattling against her skull, sharp pinpricks of pain hitting her through the eye in full force.

One particularly bad pulse through her head has her biting down so hard on her tongue that she draws blood. The sharp sting at least provides a distraction, the coppery, metallic taste now filling her mouth becoming something to latch on to other than pain.

But it’s getting more and more difficult to keep herself together. The combination of the lights, the noise, and the jerky movements of the shuttle around her have flayed her control almost entirely. She can’t do this, she can’t do this, but she has to, she has to keep it together for just a few more secon––

The ship stills.

The only sound in the cockpit is her sharp, rapid breathing that she struggles to quiet and the hum of the engine underneath her feet. Though she can’t see him, she’s acutely aware of Cassian at her side. She hears him take off his headset and set it down on its hook above the dashboard, then hears the creak of his seat as he turns, presumably to face her properly.

Hears the low, comforting sound of his voice when he tentatively asks, “Jyn? Are you okay?”

“`m’fine,” she mumbles after a beat, her brain taking longer than usual to comprehend his words properly. Even though it’s very clear that she’s not, she can’t quite abandon the ruse just yet, still hanging onto rapidly disappearing threads of composure. “Just. . .”

She trails off, swallowing down a wave of nausea. In the silence that follows, her stomach churns, due both to anxiety and her migraine; if she moves, even slightly, she’s going to throw up all over the floor. To tamp down on that, she focuses on her breathing: ragged inhales that catch before they make it to her lungs.

Cautiously, she cracks her eyes open, just a slit, to see Cassian leaning forward in his seat, gaze tight with worry. His fists are curled against his knees, his body tense with the effort of not reaching out to her. She imagines he wants to check her over himself and see what’s causing her pain but not without her permission.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. She can hear the desperation in his voice, likely compounded by the fact that he hadn’t pushed her to tell him what’d been wrong earlier. “Jyn, please. Did someone hurt you? Are you––”

“Fine,” she cuts him off weakly, ignoring his growl of frustration at her protests. He’d reluctantly taken her by her word earlier but that’s not going to work anymore. The ruse is up; it’s so incredibly clear that she isn’t fine, the jump to hyperspace having rattled something loose in her brain. “It’s. . .”

She pauses, licks her lips, then decides –– what the hell. She can’t physically keep her walls up much longer. Her eyes flutter close, the pressure in her head abating only slightly with the lack of light. Finally, she says, “My head.”

“Did you fall? Jyn, let me check––”

“No,” she swallows, fumbling with her words. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, her thoughts slow and sluggish. “It’s –– it’s a migraine. I think. I, um, get them. Occasionally.”

When Cassian doesn’t reply, she opens her eyes to see what he’s doing, feeling nervous and exposed. She watches as he gingerly stands and reaches over her, flicking off the lights in the cockpit and dimming the space as much as possible. While it isn’t completely dark, with switches on the dashboard still blinking, it’s a marked difference from how bright it’d been before. Her breath leaves her in a stuttered exhale as her shoulders relax slightly.

His voice is quiet when he asks, “Better?”

“Yeah,” she rasps. It is. “Thanks.”

A beat of silence passes between them before he tilts his head to the side, in the direction of the back of the ship. Though it isn’t large and not meant for long-term travel, there’s a small bunk room and galley just behind the crew’s quarters. Though he doesn’t say anything, Jyn knows what he’s asking.

“No,” she grits out. She keeps her head still but follows him with her gaze. It’s a struggle to get the words out. “I don’t . . . need to rest.”

“Jyn. . .”

“No.” It feels like her last line of defense. It’s a stupid hill to die on but she can’t seem to let it go, barely clinging to what little she has left. Even though she knows that Cassian would never treat her differently –– and he never has when she’s come to him injured or in the aftermath of a nightmare –– she’s not unlike a feral animal when hurting, flinching away and attacking the hand that tries to help.

He’s seen her at her worst, has held her through it, has seen more of her than anyone in this galaxy ever has. But used to a lifetime of sharing a bunk and never truly being alone, she’s learned to keep her pain quiet, to remain small and unobtrusive in moments of true vulnerability. Cassian and the rest of Rogue One have slowly broken down some of her walls but there are some things she doubts she’ll ever be able to shake fully.

But then Cassian whips out his trump card.

“Please, Jyn? For me?” And if his saying please hadn’t been enough, he adds softly, “My back has been sore all morning. Lay down with me?”

“Just for an hour,” she relents –– barely. “And you have to actually lay next to me.”

His eyes soften. “`course. Come on.”

She stands slowly to try and offset the dizziness that she knows will come, but it doesn’t work. She bites the inside of her cheeks and closes her eyes when it washes over her, her head throbbing in time with her heartbeat. For a few seconds, she worries once again she might throw up all over the ground but swallows it down. Fuck, it hurts so badly.

There’s this urgent, wild urge in the back of her mind to cry out for her mother –– she feels like a child again, scared and in pain, and wanting nothing more than Lyra’s comfort.

Finally, when it passes, she opens her eyes again, breathing heavily. Cassian stands a few feet away, one arm outstretched in case he needs to steady her. He’s not even trying to hide his worry anymore; she’d reassure him in any other situation but she’s just so tired.

Slowly, she makes her way to the bunkroom with Cassian close behind. It’s not far, and soon, she’s perched on the edge of the small cot, shoulders hunched forward.

He reaches out and touches her arm gently. That one small gesture eases a knot of tension in her body and she sags like a puppet whose strings have been cut. “I’m going to grab you some water. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable, she doesn’t like the idea of him leaving her sight right now. But at the thought of water, she swallows, her throat dry. Slowly, she nods, her head heavy and protesting the jerky movement.

She keeps quiet and doesn’t move until he returns with a glass of water in hand. Despite the position likely being hell on his back, he crouches next to the bed, offering it to her.

Silently, she reaches for it with a shaky arm, just barely managing to take a few sips without spilling before handing it back to him. He takes it, but not without a small sigh and a look of concern.

“You need to stay hydrated.” As quiet as it is, his voice is still too loud.

Not having eaten anything all day, she’s keenly aware of the hunger and thirst steadily growing in her stomach. But it’s no match for the pain in her head and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to keep anything more than water down if she tries. “No,” she manages. But then, to appease him, she adds, “Later.”

“All right,” he says finally, setting the glass on the small desk a few paces away. A pause. He shifts on his feet, and she’s just about to order him to move from his uncomfortable position when he speaks again, “I grabbed a hypospray. It’s yours if you want it.”

There’s a protest on her lips that dies when he interrupts, anticipating what she’d planned on saying, “We have more than enough supplies. It won’t be missed.”

Jyn licks her lips, then dips her chin in a slow nod.

Cassian’s jaw works briefly, clenching and unclenching before his expression finally smoothes. He knows her better than she knows herself, she thinks –– and they both know how stubborn she can get about soldiering through her pain until the last possible moment. For her to give in now without too much complaint tells him exactly how bad her pain is, what she’d been trying to hide from him all day.

Without a word, he waits until he catches her half-squinted gaze before slowly bringing the hypospray to her neck. She tilts her chin to the side slightly and closes her eyes; her breath stutters in her lungs when his warm hands brush against her skin, looking for the artery.

“Dispensing now,” he murmurs and she doesn’t have the energy to hide her flinch when the cold medicine enters her bloodstream.

The small, barely there movements of her body send shockwaves of pain through one side of her skull. Her whole body tenses, muscles rigid. She keeps her eyes squeezed to better ride out the wave washing over her, ebbing and throbbing; even as she feels the hypospray beginning to take effect, it isn’t immediate.

Now that she’s sitting, with no more tasks left to complete, she properly takes stock of her pain, it feels as if someone is repeatedly taking an ice pick to her head, stabbing her eye socket with each throbbing beat of her pulse. Before she can stop it, a small whimper leaves her mouth before she presses her lips tightly together so no other sounds can escape.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says softly. She feels him brush her cheek with his fingers lightly, then moves some of her hair off of her face. “You don’t have to hide from me, Jyn. What do you need?”

She doesn’t have to do much to convey it. Without speaking and moving as little as possible, she finds his arm in the dark and pulls him toward her. Gingerly, Cassian stands –– she can hear his joints popping as he does so –– and maneuvers himself over her and onto the cot.

He settles stiffly next to her with his back to the wall; at first, he doesn’t move, likely not wanting to cause her any more pain. But as soon as she feels him at her side, she reaches for him immediately. He is, as always, a lifeline for her, an anchor in the middle of the storm. She turns onto her side, curling into him, desperate for some sort of comfort, a distraction from the pain, if only for a few seconds. And even though it must be hell on his back for him to curl over her like this, he does so, anyway, his body a shield between her and the outside world.

Forehead pressed against his neck, her fists gripping his shirt with a white-knuckled grip, he quietly murmurs nonsense into her ear. All she can do is cling to him in a moment of uncharacteristic weakness strength and breathes.

Hours later, Jyn opens her eyes, slowly waking up. She doesn’t remember falling asleep but the combination of Cassian’s presence and the hypospray’s effect eventually lulled her to unconsciousness. She blinks once, twice, feeling a hundred times lighter than she had earlier; the pain in her head has abated to a manageable ache –– still there but not as debilitating.

She tilts her head upward, the tip of her nose brushing against Cassian’s face. He’s in the same position as he’d been in before, curled around her protectively. Still asleep, his face is relaxed, his breathing slow and even.

As much as he needs the sleep, she’s unable to resist her next impulse; she tilts her chin slightly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his mouth. It’s short and sweet, lasting only a few seconds; and even though it’s a selfish want, her heart skips a beat in her chest when his eyes open, warm and brown, blinking down at her.

It’s a testament to how much he trusts her that he doesn’t tense upon awakening. Rather, his expression warms, mouth tugging into an indulgent smile. “Hi,” he murmurs, voice rasping.

“Hi,” she repeats, her smile a mirror of his. When he moves to brush his lips against hers again, she meets him eagerly, basking in the afterglow of the morning and the relaxed feeling that only sleep can bring.

“How are you feeling?”

She hums. “Better.”

“Good.” His arms tighten around her, firm but loose enough that she can pull away. She doesn’t. “You scared me, you know.”

She stays silent as he continues. “When Bodhi told me he didn’t think you were feeling well, I didn’t think it was that bad, not when you marched over to us a minute later. But then, after we jumped. . .” he closes his eyes briefly, licking his chapped lips. She wants to smooth the wrinkle between his brows with her thumb. “I thought you would have told me that it was that bad.”

Is that disappointment in his voice? Shame curls in her gut. Had their positions been flipped, she would have felt just as helpless. “I know. I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?” An open question. If he’s judging her for it, he keeps that out of his voice.

“I don’t know,” she says finally. “It’s. . .It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do, but. . .” she shrugs with a shoulder as best she can while lying on her side. “Just habit, I guess.”

A habit formed after years of being alone, exacerbated due to Saw’s abandonment and how quickly her ties to the Partisans –– her foundation of self, her family –– had been ripped out from underneath her. It had been necessary to hide the vulnerable sides of herself for survival, instincts that she hasn’t quite shaken now that she once again has a team she can rely on.

He licks his chapped lips. “Have you . . . seen someone about this? A medic?”

“Once.” After her symptoms had lingered long after a particularly bad head injury, Saw had forced her (not that she had much choice with how sick she’d been) to see one of the Partisan’s medics. “With how many concussions I get, this sort of thing. . .happens, they said.”

Cassian hums. “Will you see one of the Alliance’s medics when we get back?”

“I don’t think there’s anything they can do,” she argues. She can handle it –– not to mention that, with how many injuries those doctors have to deal with on a daily basis, she’d just be wasting their time.

He stays silent but the look in his eyes tells her he doesn’t like her answer. “There might be medicine that could help.”

“The hypospray worked well enough,” she retorts grouchily, cuddling closer to him so she no longer has to meet his gaze. His heartbeat beats a steady tempo against her cheek.

He brushes her bangs back behind her ears, his hand lingering on the side of her face. Perhaps reassuring himself that she’s still in one piece, that she’s no longer in as much pain as before. “To prevent this sort of thing from happening so often.”

She scowls. “It doesn’t happen that often.”

“Jyn. . .” he sighs. “What happens if we’re out on a mission and you’re like this? If –– if something happened to you, I couldn’t. . .” His jaw clenches, eyes flashing at the thought of the hypothetical.

Knowing he’s right –– it has happened out in the field but never to this degree –– she stays silent.

“Let’s make a deal, all right?” She remains quiet, listening. He continues, “You go to the medbay when we get back, see what they can do. I’ll come with you. And then, in return, when my back is bothering me, I’ll go. But we tell each other, all right? When we’re hurting. Trust goes both ways, remember?”

“Trust goes both ways,” she echoes softly, tipping her head back from his chest and onto the pillow so she can better look at his face. Her headache has been subdued to a dull throbbing, a far cry from the agony she’d felt earlier. “You promise you’ll go?”

“If you do, I will,” Cassian says. “And you’ll tell me next time your head hurts, yes?”

“Fine,” she concedes with a grumble, though her displeasure fades when he gathers her back up in his arms and kisses her forehead gently. Her breath hitches at the feeling of his lips against her skin.

“We have a few more hours before we reach Dantooine,” he tells her softly. “We should get up, grab some food. When’s the last time you ate?”

Even though she hasn’t eaten anything all day, the remnants of nausea still remain in her system. She makes a face, wrinkling her nose at the thought of leaving the bed and Cassian’s embrace.

“You said your back was sore,” she says instead. Regardless if it had only been a ploy to get her to bed, his back bothers him more often than not. It won’t hurt to rest a little more, especially not when they’ll be in hyperspace for a while still. “Lay here with me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles down at her. It’s the type of true smile she so very rarely sees outside of when they’re alone together, the one that never fails to make her heart swell in her chest with a type of love she’d never thought she’d ever feel. “Always.”

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