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thegoldencontracts · 2 months

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Hullo! If you're taking fic requests, may I politely ask for an 'x Azul' one involving Azul getting really invested in market research for something a little pointless? Maybe it's trying twenty different kinds of olive to see which makes the best garnish, maybe it's minor variations on their standard cloth napkins as sorted by softness, who knows? Just something he makes the MC test for him and he's very lucky MC loves him enough to put up with it.

Of course, something has to go wrong eventually. Maybe teaming up with the tweels to end the constant stream of tests? Shenanigans are always welcome~ hehehe.

Thank you for your time!

Of course! Azul my belovedd <3 Anyways, thank you for the request, and a little note to anyone reading that I appreciate any and all requests!

Of Much Importance

Summary: Azul is a man of business, even when that business-matter involves making his dearly beloved test out dishes for him. Except, he's making you test to see how many flakes of chili is optimal? Flakes?

Unless you do something, you're going to be here forever - or until your stomach bursts.

Notes: Fluff, and some humor, a bit of flirting

"Darling," Azul - your lovely, lovely boyfriend you who you were on the verge of murdering if it weren't for the fact that he had superstrength, and the twins were actually surprisingly protective when he was badly hurt, and you loved him too much - said, holding yet another plate of the same guacamole but with one more chili flakes. "Does this one taste better?"

You were at a seat in the currently closed Lounge, which would've meant no one would hear him scream if you punched him, but of course, the twins were sitting at the next table, being subjected to the same thing as you.

It tastes the exact same because this is literally the exact same dish with one more chili flakes. You think anyone'll notice that, Azul? You wanted to say.

Instead, you just tried to appease him. He seemed pretty stressed, and for good reason. Finals were coming up, and that meant a surge of new contracts for him, and a surge of sleepless nights, if the way his concealer had gotten heavier said anything. He was zoning in on every little detail, and you understood why. That didn't make it any less frustrating.

"I'm sure it's fine-"

"No." Azul said, sounding way too intense for someone talking about a singular chili flake. "This is sub-optimal. I must conduct further research. I apologize, but I will temporarily leave."

"Bye," you said, trying not to sound too happy.

Finally, a break for your stomach! Your poor, poor stomach. You still remembered how this all started.

"Darling, would you mind taste-testing a few new recipes for me?"

"Of course not!"

You thought it would be easy. You were so, so wrong. Because those 'few' recipes were actually over a hundred. And those recipes were the exact same guacamole with one more chili flake each time.

You hated guacamole now. The next time you saw an avocado, you'd have an aneurysm.

As you lamented, the twins entered your field of vision. Here to float, you guessed.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh at me," you said, but neither of them were laughing. Jade had his polite smile, but it was strained. His eye was twitching.

Finally, Floyd spoke up.

"I can't take this anymore!" He said. "You gotta find a way to make him stop!"

They were suffering too? You guys were companions in misery?

"Jade?" You asked.

"I'm afraid I must agree," he said. "This is becoming much too trying for me to bear. I fear my stomach may no longer be able to contain this food."

So, you really were cohorts in misery. The question was, now what? What did you do? Azul could come back any moment.

"Do you have a plan then?"

Please let them have a plan, please. You couldn't take this anymore.

Silence. You were beginning to lose hope when Floyd spoke up.

"Flirt with him," he said, sounding way too serious considering what he was suggesting.

That was his best idea? Flirting?

Wait.

Azul was great at being suave, but maybe he couldn't take what he dished out. In fact, he probably couldn't take what he dished out.

"Floyd."

"Yeah?"

"Has anyone told you you're a genius?" You asked.

"All the time," Floyd said, though he didn't seem smug. "Hate it. They keep telling me to apply myself. Usually the thing they're telling me to do's super boring."

Oh, right. Floyd was actually a savant.

"Get back to your seats. We can't look too suspicious," you said, and the twins nodded, scampering back to their seats.

Just in time, because at that moment, Azul walked back into the restaurant, carrying another plate of guacamole with him.

"Is this one better?" He said, but this time, instead of appeasing him, you stood up, leaning in close. It was time for you to use that dating-sim knowledge.

"How do you expect me to focus on the food when I've got the most gorgeous man this world has to offer staring at me?"

Azul flushed, turning away with a huff.

"Regardless of the falsehood of that statement, it is entirely irrelevant to this conversation," he said. That wouldn't do. You weren't going to let him get out of this.

"Now, now," you said, hooking an arm around his shoulder. "Don't deny it, darling."

In an attempt to maintain his composure, Azul looked away. You just hooked a finger under his chin to combat that.

"Don't deny me the privilege of watching you lose your composure like this, Azul," you said, enjoying every second of this.

"I, er-"

You leaned in, puckering your lips. Azul scrunched his eyes shut in anticipation.

But nothing happened. After a while, Azul finally opened his eyes, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"You- you looked hilarious!" You said. "All red n' blushy. I should really do this more often."

Azul scowled, swatting you away.

"Leave at once," he said, though there wasn't any bite to his voice. "I shall go to my room and continue this endeavor in private."

No more guacamole? No more guacamole! Yes! Victory, at last.

"Of course." As you left, you could see Jade and Floyd give you a thumbs up.

Back in your room, but you couldn't help but smile. As irritating as this whole endeavor had been - and as bad as it was for your stomach - you couldn't deny that this new side to Azul was one you enjoyed.

You really would have to do this more often.

#azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x you #fluff #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #twisted wonderland #gn reader #fanfic #jade leech #floyd leech

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luna-rainbow · 4 months

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(I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors; English is not my mother tongue.)

Hi!

I have a few questions for you and I'm fairly certain that you've probably been asked them before, so I apologize if this has been the case. I'm relatively new to fandom (only since 2020). But I keep wondering if there is some illness that Bucky could suffer from. I'm thinking of things like: E.g. stroke, aneurysm, heart attack, Alzheimer's disease or Parkinson's disease. Would there be any impact in the long term? Or does the serum prevent him from generally getting such “diseases of civilization”? Or, if he suffers from it, does the serum help him to recover where a "normal" human being wouldn't been able to? It's said in some places that Hydra didn't use the same serum that Steve got, so it might perhaps be within the realm of possibility (I mean, we're talking about non-existent things like super soldier serum) that such "side effects " may occur? I know you're not a medical professional, but I really value your opinion and in-depth knowledge of Bucky and have enjoyed reading many of your assessments of him.

Thanks for your time!

Oooh! Thanks for the fascinating question! You've actually been in the fandom longer than I have 😂 And your English is fantastic!

In TFATWS Isaiah spoke of his squad of men all dying from the effects of the serum. In the comics, Isaiah did have two major weaknesses as a side effect of the serum: he got early dementia and he was rendered infertile. This is not true of TFATWS!Isaiah though, because he looks like he’s well in control of his mental faculties.

I feel like the serum, if it was flawed, would kill rapidly because of how powerful its effects on cells are. It's supposed to increased strength, endurance, stamina, speed, healing and longevity; we also know that it increased metabolism of alcohol (and maybe other drugs too).

But what are the side effects on increasing strength, stamina and speed? Presumably they would need a much higher energy intake than the normal person to maintain the function of the muscles (and their level of activity). Presumably there would be cascading changes on insulin sensitivity and energy storage. What happens when they become sedentary? Do they store a lot of that excessive energy on their body like Alexei? Or do they get the zoomies because their body is forcing them to burn off the excess energy? What does it mean for sleep? Are they needing more sleep because of the energy expenditure, or less sleep because of the rapid rejuvenation? What does that change in sleep cycle mean when they have to live amongst normal humans? And how do they balance their meals against that?

The higher metabolism is interesting, because does that mean a higher rate of cell turnover? In most normal humans, we know that higher cell turnover rates mean bigger chances of mutations, hence things like chronic inflammation increases risks of cancer. Sure, healing speed might be fast, but sometimes it’s a matter of quality over speed, you know? Are they closing wounds or replacing lost blood but actually spawning cancerous cells? Sometimes I wonder if a lot of Isaiah’s squad may have died from cancer like these 🤔 There is an interesting bit of DNA on our chromosomes called the “telomere”, that seems to be somewhat of a genetic marker for “best before date”, if you will. When the telomere gets shorter, there are higher incidences of age-related diseases, but I’m not sure we’ve figured out which is the chicken or the egg 🤔 The reason I bring it up is we don’t know how the increased metabolism given by the serum will affect the mechanisms for cell repair. Do the cell repair happen faster too? Or do they — as you point out — hit a physiological roadblock and after that it’s all down hill?

And finally, what does the serum do to mental health specifically? Not just the improved memory or the heightened senses (leading to heightened anxiety), but physiological changes can definitely cause emotions, eg people with fast thyroid or fast heart rate feeling anxious and jittery all the time. If your energy is always elevated, how do you let your mind rest? If you’re not able to fall asleep, how does your brain repair itself and consolidate memories? And what is the psychological effect of always living on juice? Is that what drives comics!Isaiah to an early dementia?

Sorry, this raised far more questions than it answered! I think it is definitely possible that there are long term side effects of the serum that we don’t know about. Although I suspect a MCU was thinking is “magic mcgaffin juice, heals all illnesses” which I guess is all you need when the original point of the story is that the physique didn’t matter as much as the man inside, and what was most important was he was going to punch Nazis.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #asks

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doevademe · 2 years

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Then without further ado 🤑

Prompt: adult and married Percy and Nico meeting their younger counterparts (let s say the ones from after the whole not my type incident) go craaaazy, sorry if it s not an easy one . I just hope you ll take a comedic approach to it but that s your choice.

"YOU!" The teen pointed at him once he saw him. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Percy sighed and passed by his seventeen year old self and straight towards fifteen year old Nico. The little son of Hades shrugged, as if to say, 'what do you expect of me?' and walked towards the car.

"Sorry about this, Wise Girl," he apologized. "I swear I was watching them, but I guess I forgot how slippery I can be."

"You forgot a lot of things, Percy, if you're even Percy anymore!" his younger self kept accusing. "Why did you guys break up?!"

"Just... give me a heads up next time something like this happens," Annabeth said. "Just a few minutes with him and I remember why we broke up,"

Young Percy looked at her, betrayal in his eyes.

Percy took advantage of his shock and dragged him to the car, speeding off before he could try and jump out.

When the boys had appeared in front of him and Nico at home, his husband almost suffered an aneurysm. When Young Percy had asked where Annabeth was, as she would know how to take them back, Percy had been stupid enough to let it slip that they had broken up.

Cue his younger self running away to find her and find out what happened, with Young Nico following behind, to make sure he was safe.

"What did you do?" Young Percy asked, calmer this time. "Tell me so I never make the same stupid mistake!"

"It wasn't a mistake," Percy said, getting angry despite himself. "You just don't know how things will go until they happen."

"Maybe that's why I'm here, then," Young Percy explained, desperate. "To make sure this Bad Future doesn't happen."

"Then why am I here?" Nico spoke up. Percy immediately whipped his head back. He was still panicking, but now all his attention was centered on Nico. "The only thing I know about my future is that I am in your house."

And gods, was his seventeen year old self an idiot. How did he not notice himself forgetting the world just by listening to Young Nico's words? How did he justify his eyes following the movements of his hands like it was hypnotic?

Denial was one hell of a drug.

"Why wouldn't you be here? Or at my house? We're friends," Percy answered like it was the most natural thing in the world. "And right now, it's us against the future."

Nico said nothing, but he gave him a small smile. Young Percy relaxed.

"So, how did it happen?" he asked again once they were by the house.

"I fell in love with someone else," Percy said honestly. Young Percy's eyes widened. He obviously thought it impossible. "I was... about your age, really, but didn't notice it until much later, when that person was already taken."

"Well, I don't like anybody but Annabeth, so that means this future won't come to pass."

"Oh, it will, you just don't know it yet," Nico, older Nico, said as he leaned against the car. Young Percy jumped on his seat. "Welcome back, Percy. Was little me good?"

"I'm not ten," Young Nico complained. He looked at his older self. "Do you know why we're here?"

His husband shook his head.

"Afraid not, but good news is, I don't remember being thrown into the future and meeting my older self, so you guys probably won't remember this once you get back."

"Nico! Help me!" Young Percy said. "If I won't remember, then it means I must fix this here! You have to help me get back together with Annabeth!"

No one spoke for a few seconds, and Percy saw Young Nico wince. Whether he was sad over his younger self being such a hard head, or cringing at him was a mystery Percy couldn't crack.

Nico shook his head, smiling tenderly and leaning forward slightly on the window and... well, his husband was 24 and dressed in an oversized shirt that let a lot of his collar bone and chest show. Young Percy was too mesmerized to keep talking.

But Young Nico noticed and his eyes shifted rapidly between his older self and both Percys.

The son of Poseidon gave a subtle nod, winking at him. Young Nico's face turned a deep crimson. Gods, he missed when Nico used to do that.

"When you grow up, you'll understand why it ended," Nico said gently. Young Percy, cheeks a little red, nodded dumbly. Percy was sure that, at that point, his husband could make his younger self to jump to his doom faster than any siren. "Now come on, I made some ravioli I'm sure you guys will love. I remembered mamma's recipes," he added for his younger self's sake, who wouldn't stop sneaking glances at both Percys.

"Wait, so this is your house? Where do I live, then?"

Nico looked at Young Percy for a second and gave him what Percy knew as his 'I'm seducing you' smile. Young Nico looked escandalized.

"Where do you think, Percy?" he said in a low whisper. His younger self's eyes widened in horror.

"I... I don't like... do I? B-but you said, I mean, he said I... that I wasn't his—" he looked between the Nicos, probably seeing his version for the first time as well. "I'm not hungry!"

"Percy, wait!"

Their younger versions ran into the house. Percy would probably hide in their room and see all the evidence of their relationship, while Nico would try to calm Percy down, who, now with the idea in his mind, wouldn't be able to stop thinking about his Nico that way.

"That was evil," Percy said, chuckling. Nico smirked back.

"Maybe," Nico admitted. "But he was the one who suggested breaking our marriage, so he deserves it."

#Percico #my writing #this one was fun #the idea was intriguing enough to write this right away #also poor Percy #but this will do him some good #maybe #drabble #writing prompt

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small-townkid · 1 year

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It’s been 3 years since my grandparents passed on the same day. Pay No Rent by Turnpike Troubadours always tugged at the heart strings prior to their passing, but now it has a whole new meaning.

Evan Felker wrote this song in remembrance of his Aunt. It was a heartfelt personal song for him that he wanted to put out to the universe to hear, probably without a care if it spoke to anyone else. Yet here it is, making me bawl my eyes out everytime it comes on.

“I hear the clicking of the dominoes, you’re shaking up a game” - the opening line gets me. My grandparents were avid domino players. Weddings, Christmas, or a simple evening drinking beer at the lake- if there was an empty table, there was bound to be a game of dominoes played

“It takes a lot of blood and tears to really love someone. But when it comes back around, that’s heaven on earth. You never know til the end what your love is really worth” - 63 years. Granny & Popo would have celebrated 63 years of marriage 12 short days after their passing. Popo suffered an aneurysm, & while on hospice, Granny passed from a broken heart. Popo passed later that evening. This verse couldn’t be more true for their love & relationship

“I hear the crackle of a campfire. You're howling at the moon. We all know that you gotta go but does it have to be so soon. Bet somebody' yelling last call. I hope you get some rest. I hope you found everything that you wanted. In the place you love the best”-the best times with my grandparents were spent at the lake, staying up way too late, telling tall tales.

Wowza what a song. Granny, PoPo, In my heart you pay no rent.

What song out there makes you emotional no matter how many times you hear it?

Xoxo, a rambling mom

#TexasCountry #RedDirtMusic #PayNoRent #DiaryofARamblingMom #Diary #XoXo #JustSomeThoughts #TurnpikeTroubadors #Texas

#west texas #texas country #red dirt #turnpike #country #ramblingmom

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immacaria · 3 years

Text

Box of Memories

Happy belated birthday, A-Sang! Wish you all the joy and love life has reserved for you!

Almost three weeks after the actual birthday I've finally finished this thanks to my dear school (grinds teeth angrily). Anyway, this is a bit short, like almost 4k or something, and I took this insanely amount of time because of school, but it's alright I finished it now. So I hope you guys enjoy this and I can make your day a little brighter with it. As always, stay safe and healthy!

_____________________________________________________________

It was Nie Huaisang’s birthday and Jiang Cheng was more anxious than when he had to survive Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen and Meng Yao’s shove talk one after the other. For the heavens and all above, they had been dating for four years now and met each since they were five and six! There was no reason for him to be so nervous! They passed so many birthdays, with so many presents exchanged and Jiang Cheng was still nervous. And just because he made the present with his own hands and it turned out horrible!

Like not the ‘you can’t even look at’ type of horrible, but the ‘didn’t meet my expectations exactly what immediately makes it horrible’ type of horrible. He started doing it exactly two days later after Nie Huaisang said he wanted it and guaranteed that nobody would buy it for him, exactly nine months and eight days before his birthday. He had seen it on Pinterest, in a video where a girl was making a “box of memories” (as Jiang Cheng came to call it) for her younger sister.

She had chosen their favourite memory and made something like a box of shadows to show it. There was a light bulb in the middle with various metal plates cut in the shape of the memories. When turned on, the metal plates started to revolve around the light bulb and create images on the wall, recreating the memory with the shadows. Nie Huaisang loved it and showed it to every person who he knew could give one for him or make one. Thankfully, none of them could give it right away which gave Jiang Cheng enough time to plan how he would do it.

It all began with him asking what memory he would use of all his favorites and asked what happened there, memorizing them to the heart and writing everything down the second he saw himself alone. His drawing skills weren’t as good as Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen’s, but as long as they remained a sketch, they would do. After sketching it all, he went to Nie Mingjue and asked him to teach him how to cut the metal plates and arrange them properly in the other metal pieces. Apparently, there was a machine that did that for them, the only thing they needed to do was insert the images and the sizes of the plates and let it do what it needed to do. Which led Jiang Cheng to ask for some draw lessons from Lan Xichen and digital design from Lan Wangji, which cost several years of his life but he guessed he was bound to do everything needed for his boyfriend.

He planned everything on the little planner he bought (if it was specifically brought for that no one needed to know) and every day he ticked something off. Besides the box of memories, he wrote a letter everyday to him and hid it in the last drawer of his wardrobe under piles and piles of clothes. From Open it now to Open it when you are sixty years old and Open it when you are in doubt about us, everyday a letter for 281 days and too much ink, paper and ideas, too much feelings engraved in those. But should he regret it, knowing that it would make Nie Huaisang happy? The boy loved this kind of old, romantic things like handwritten letters, so why shouldn’t he give it to him too? Handwritten letters with little doodles on the edges of the paper and little trinkets.

At the beginning of May, Jiang Cheng started putting it all together, doing the last reviews and adjustments. Once the plates were done, he called Wei Wuxian to help with the electric part of the thing, the shameless idiot being graduated in electrical engineering somehow. He had to endure his little ramble about how he had become so romantic and how considerate of somebody else’s feelings, how he was going miles out of what everyone said was normal. It would be a lie if Jiang Cheng ever said that he wasn’t slightly proud and happy upon hearing that.

They made slow progress but the present was ready six days before the due date, which gave Jiang Cheng enough anxiety and stress for the rest of his life (good thing he took on his mother’s side of genetics and wasn’t getting any white hairs until a very, very old age). Would Nie Huaisang find out the present before his birthday? Would he hate it or love it? Would he simply be neutral about all the gifts? Would he fake liking it? What could possibly happen once he gives it to him? Would it destroy their relationship?

On March 20, Jiang Cheng was about to have a stroke or an aneurysm or both of them probably. Just some more hours and they would see if Nie Huaisang liked the present or not. Since it had been ready, the poor present had been tested countless times to see if it worked properly (it did, thank gods), changed locations incessantly while he wrote every single letter by hand before making a wooden box and putting all he had made in there. The memory box, the 281 letters and some fans he bought in the Yunmeng market that reminded him of Nie Huaisang.

Early on, he had promised Nie Huaisang that he would help him with the birthday’s decorations and preparations for everything . After that, he made a quick run to his house to take a bath and try to calm himself because he couldn’t throw up in the party, he even got time to test it again, watching as Nie Huaisang’s favourite memory of all time played on his bedroom wall. It was practically memorized by now, the way the images followed one by one in quick succession, recreating a story that he could tell even if he had amnesia.

Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue and their parents were the main characters in the memory. Nie Huaisang was maybe four or five years old while Nie Mingjue was something like sixteen or seventeen years old and they were travelling to the small cabin they passed the holidays. He always said that that weekend was the best one of his life, one where his entire family was together and happy, complete. This memory in particular was one where Nie Huaisang was being thrown in the air by his father to land in the arms of one of his mothers while Nie Mingjue and their second mother were suffering a heart attack. Even though there was some melancholy in his eyes, he always spoke fondly and laughed about the face his brother made when he landed on their mother’s arms and passed the rest of the weekend guaranteeing that their father wouldn’t do another one of those again.

Jiang Cheng would die as a happy man if he could make him as happy as he was on that day, even if for one day. Well, not die, he was still too young to die, but he would feel fulfilled and satisfied. So, he tried to focus on that when he stepped inside the party, clutching to the wooden box and breathing deep. He’s going to like it, he’s not going to hate me, he’s going to smile because of the present, everything is going to be fine, we are not breaking up. Okay, maybe he was a little bit paranoid and afraid of what was going to happen, but he was fine, he was going to be fine. He just needed to loosen up and enjoy the party until it was time to open the presents.

“A-Cheng!” Nie Huaisang said, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his neck. Jiang Cheng only had time to pull the box to the side to prevent him from getting hurt before putting an arm around his waist and kissing his temple. “Tell your brother to stop being mean to me on my birthday.”

“If Lan Wangji can’t control him, what makes you think I can?” He said, still holding him. “Happy birthday, Huaisang, many years of life and happiness for you.” He kissed his temple again before stepping away and showing him the present. “For you.”

“Oh, A-Cheng! You didn’t need to! You are already present enough.” He gasped, taking the box of his hands while Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him. He always said that but he remembered very well what he did to Jin Zixuan when the man showed up without his present. He didn’t want to be in the same ending of his fury, thank you very much.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes again, bending a little to let Nie Huaisang kiss his cheek.

“I don’t know what you gave me, but I already love it.” He smiled brightly at him, walking to the kitchen and carefully choosing a place to put it. The kitchen was loaded with presents, some big, others small, colorful wraps or black and white with an interesting pattern on it, some didn’t even had proper wraps around it. There were a lot of presents and for a moment Jiang Cheng’s brain simply went blank and decided that, for sure, there was one that topped his present. Which was nonsense, but still served to increase his stress and anxiety (once again he thanked his genetics for not getting white hairs early). “C’mon, let’s go to the living room. Da-ge is telling some story from when we were children.”

“Is he telling the green incident? Because if he is, I would rather stay in the kitchen.” And check if the other presents are better than mine so I can throw them out the window.

“Of course not! Da-ge doesn’t remember that story anymore.” He waved him off, entering the room in the exact moment Nie Mingjue said:

“Then a bucket of green paint fell into his head.” His thunderous laugh filled the room as he started to tell the amazing story of how Nie Huaisang managed to dye himself green after he dumped a whole bucket of paint on his head when he was seven years old.

“Da-ge!” He screamed, going red instantly. “What are you doing?!” He yelped, high-pitched, as he threw a cushion at him. “Shut up!”

“What? I was just talking about the green dye you did on your skin.” He laughed again, dodging the cushion and showing his tongue to him. It was strange to see a man of his size acting like that, but sincerely Jiang Cheng sometimes forgot that he too was human and (kind of) young. “Hey, Wanyin, do you want to sit here?”

“Hey, hey, hey. No stealing boyfriends on my birthday or ever, Da-ge. You already have two.” He wrapped himself around his arm, glaring at his brother. “Stop being so selfish, Da-ge.”

“Selfish? Take that back, brat, before I break your legs.” He narrowed his eyes at him, pointing a finger at him.

“It’s his birthday and you don’t get to threaten the birthday boy, Jue-ge.” Lan Xichen sighed, pulling his hand down. He was beside Nie Mingjue and sitting next to Lan Wangji, talking quietly between the two of them before the threats started rolling out.

“Stop covering him, Lan Xichen.” He turned to him as Nie Huaisang pulled him to the bench next to the window and between two high bookshelves full of sketchbooks, some completed, others completely blank.

“So, what’s your present?” He suddenly asked, playing with Jiang Cheng’s fingers.

“What? It’s a fucking surprise, A-Sang, I can’t tell you.” He spurred, furrowing his eyebrows at him.

“But, A-Cheng, yours were the heaviest of it all. What is it?” He shook his arm, doing the puppy eyes. The fucking puppy eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. Stop, A-Sang.” He growled, avoiding looking at him. “You know I can’t take the puppy eyes.”

“A-Cheng~.” He laid ahead, searching for his eyes. And, heavens, who taught that boy that? Nie Mingjue for sure was not. Maybe Meng Yao. Yeah, definitely Meng Yao. Jiang Cheng was going to kill Meng Yao for teaching Nie Huaisang that. “Please~. I want to know.”

“Ok, ok, ok. Just one part, okay?” Jiang Cheng pushed him away, feeling the back of his neck heating up.

“From how many parts?” His eyes were shining and attentive which meant that he was probably making a million combinations on his head, comparing and guessing what he could possibly ever get him.

“I’m not going to tell you.” He scowled, taking a deep breath. “One part of your presents is fans, okay? I got you some fans.”

“Really?!” His eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his bangs. “I love fans.”

“I know, A-Sang.” He breathed out, kissing his fingers.

“But I love you more.” He smiled, leaning to kiss him lightly on the lips. “I love you so much more than the fans.” He murmured against them, hands on his neck.

“Idiot.” He chuckled, kissing him back while smiling. He always seemed to smile easily when he was near him, breath was easier too. Sincerely, Nie Huaisang just made things easier just by being near him, just his presence and, maybe, it was the reason why he wanted to do everything in his power to make him happy as he could be. “I love you too.”

“More than dogs and A-Ling?” He sat between his legs, back against his chest.

“Don’t push your luck.” He may love A-Sang, but dogs and his nephew were more important, they always brought instant happiness with them. Next to him, Nie Huaisang was chuckling quietly, pulling both of Jiang Cheng’s arms around his waist and putting his hands above before starting to talk with Meng Yao about some new exposition of them and all the technicalities involving it.

Jiang Cheng let himself fall back into the security of all the conversations around him that didn’t involve him and the warmth of Nie Huaisang on his arms and against his chest. Slowly his panic disappeared from his mind as the time passed and the presents weren’t mentioned not even once. Almost everyone was there, the only ones missing being Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli and their newborn Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng’s little sweetheart, who were overseas to look over the inauguration of Jiang Yanli’s new restaurant in Las Vegas (To say that Jiang Cheng was crazely proud of her would be an understatement).

Either way, no amount of time would be enough to prepare him for when Wei Wuxian and MianMian appeared in the kitchen bringing the cake and the tray of sweets. The candle was already lit up and displaying the number 23, as if nobody knew how old Nie Huaisang was. He dislocated his hands enough to clap but not remove his arm from around his waist. Nie Huaisang laughed, clapping according to the music, but sunken further on his chest, refusing to move another millimeter as his ears went adorably red.

“Happy birthday, Nie Huaisang!” Everyone screamed when the song ended, blowing confetti over them. The screams and whistles became a cacophony as Nie Huaisang blew out the candle and laughed out loud, putting both of his hands over his mouth.

“Happy birthday, Nie-xiong!” MianMian hugged him after Wen Qing, her girlfriend, took the cake from her. “Many, many years of happiness and fulfillment to you, my dear. Hope you enjoy mine and A-Qing’s present.” She winked, mischievously.

“What have you given me, MianMian?” Nie Huaisang said, eyes wide.

“Nothing you can open in front of Da-ge.” She laughed, absolutely delighted at his terrified face and Jiang Cheng’s groan. He had noticed that everyone had a tendency of calling Nie Mingjue ‘Da-ge’.

“No! You stole my idea!” Wei Wuxian complained, giving him a half-hug and equilibrating the tray of sweets on the other arm. “Many years of love and laughter, Nie-xiong, may time and life treat you well.” He fully hugged him once MianMian came back to take the tray away from him, calming Jiang Cheng’s anxiety.

“I want to see what those two gave you. No excuses.” Nie Mingjue said, serious, before crushing him in a tight hug. “Happy anniversary, didi. I’m very proud of you and what you have become. Ma, Baba and Mother would be so, so proud of you and happy for all the friends and people you have around you.” He may or may not have sniffed on that part, hiding his face on his brother’s neck.

“Thank you, Da-ge. They would be very proud of you too.” Nie Huaisang whispered back and Jiang Cheng saw him blink repeatedly to avoid the tears from falling out.

“He grew up so fast.” He mourned, resting his head on Lan Xichen’s shoulder while Meng Yao hugged and wished him a happy birthday and life. Once he was done and it was Lan Xichen’s turn, Nie Mingjue wrapped himself over him, sniffing loudly. After that, the other guests did a quick succession of ‘Happy Birthday’ and wishes for a good and long life. Not for a moment Nie Huaisang stepped away from Jiang Cheng, always at arm’s reach of his hands. Not that he had tried to pull him back when he stepped away, Jiang Cheng would never do that.

“So, A-Sang, now that all the wishes have been given and Wangji-ge and I have cut the cake. For whom is the first piece?” MianMian asked, holding a plate with a piece of cake to him.

“A-Cheng!” He quickly answered, turning to him. “For being the best boyfriend a man could ask. And not being too scared of Da-ge.”

“I’m not that scared of Mingjue-ge, but thank you, I guess.” Jiang Cheng said, taking the plate from his hands and completely refusing to look over where Nie Mingjue was.

“Woah, he didn’t even hesitate.” Wei Wuxian said, surprised. “I could swear he was going to give it to Da-ge.” That was it, Jiang Cheng was now certain that everyone, except for maybe Wen Qing, saw Nie Mingjue as an older brother. But, well, were they wrong?

“Da-ge has received many first pieces in his life. It’s A-Cheng’s time.” Nie Huaisang scrunched his nose at him before jogging to the kitchen. “C’mon people! Eat, eat! I want to open my presents!”

Jiang Cheng chuckled, starting to eat the cake as the others were doing a line to receive their own piece and, fucking hell, he understood why they wanted one. The cake was divine! It was fluffy and tasty, exploding in the mouth the moment you bite it and it wasn’t too sweet. It was possibly the best cake he ever had the pleasure to eat and by the look of the other’s face, they thought that too.

“Nie-xiong, who made the cake? I want their number.” Wei Wuxian said, pleasure written all over his face. “It’s so good!”

“Oh, it was Wangji and Da-ge.” Nie Huaisang said, pointing at them. Everyone turned their heads to them, looking in awe.

“Lan Zhan?! But he never did one of me.” Wei Wuxian complained, pouting.

“Mingjue-ge made the dough and I did the frosting and the decorations.” Lan Wangji passed a piece of cake to Wen Ning.

“And the sweets. He did the sweets too.” Nie Mingjue said, throwing one of the sweets in his mouth.

“Which are fucking marvellous!” MianMian exclaimed, doing a thumbs up for him.

“No speaking while eating.” He and Lan Xichen said in unison, without looking at her. After that everyone focused on eating the cake and the sweets. Nie Huaisang came back to sit beside Jiang Cheng, taking the sweets he didn’t like to his own plate. Most of them got a second piece and more sweets because those things were really fucking good.

“Now, the presents!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, excited and sending Jiang Cheng’s heartbeat to space. “I’m excited.” He was jumping on his seat.

“Whose present will you open first?” Lan Xichen said, getting up and going to the kitchen.

“A-Cheng’s.” He smiled as he started to bring the presents from the kitchen. Jiang Cheng prayed that his panic weren’t showing on his face nor his anxiety because his mind was running a mile per hour.

He was going to open the present and see how horrible it was that box of memories and they would break up. Maybe not now because of the fans, but once he started reading the letters and seeing how messed up he was, it would be an endgame. No one, being in their right mind, would stay after reading those letters. Before he could be totally swallowed by his traitorous mind, he heard a scream and someone throwing themselves at him, arms around his neck.

“Thank you!” Nie Huaisang screamed in his ear, pulling him against himself. “Thank you so much!” He sounded happy, but he was crying too.

“What the fuck, Huaisang? Are you crying?” He said, trying to look at his face where it was hidden on his neck. “Why are you-...” He started, before seeing the box sitting on his lap. “Oh.”

“A-Cheng.” He whined, looking up. “Look what you did to me. I’m crying like a baby.” The tears were falling two by two, big fat tears that he did not like to see on his face. “When did you buy it?”

“I made it.” He blurted out, focused on wiping the tears.

“What?” He blinked, sniffing loudly.

“I made it. I made most of the things in the box, including the box. The only things I bought were the fans, I still don’t know how to make fans like you.” He kept wiping the tears, putting his sleeve over his nose for him to blow. “You know I’m not good with handcrafted gifts but since it’s your birthday I tried.”

“I love you so much.” Nie Huaisang hugged him again while Wei Wuxian took the box from his legs and turned it on.

“What memory did you use?” He asked and, oh yeah, Jiang Cheng never told any of them what memory he was planning to use. He instructed MianMian to turn the light off, rearranging it on the small coffee table in the center.

“One from when me and Da-ge were younger.” Nie Huaisang answered as Nie Mingjue’s eyes filled with tears at recognition. “Best present ever.” He whispered, leaning on him with a small smile on his lips and watching as the memory came to life again. Jiang Cheng smiled down at him, passing an arm over his shoulders and watching as he told the story about how Nie Mingjue, who had many comments on how it was being told, almost had a heart attack when he was seventeen.

It was, indeed, the best present ever.

28 notes · View notes

the-delta-42 · 4 years

Text

Stressed

Based on This Post by @lenoreofraven

Update 19/07/2022: Edited things and replaced the brain aneurysm line with a stroke, as strokes are more likely to be brought on through stress. When initially writing this, I got a stroke and a brain aneurysm mixed up. I'll probably revisit the brain aneurysm idea at a later date.

Stressed

Marinette was staring at the pile of paper in front of her when it happened, a sharp, sudden pain in her head. Marinette groaned and placed her head in her hands. The class went quiet, Lila scowling at the sudden interruption.

“You okay, girl?” Asked Alya, frowning at Marinette.

Marinette gave a small nod and waved everyone off. Lila continued with her story, but some of the class were still looking back at her. Marinette’s vision went blurry, making Marinette rub her eyes, which only increased the pain in her skull. Marinette’s neck was stiff, as if Marinette had slept on it wrong. Marinette let out a small huff, getting the attention of the class again. Ms. Bustier finally clocking that something was wrong.

“Marinette?” Asked Ms. Bustier, concerned, “Is everything alright?”

Marinette sluggishly turned her head to face the teacher.

“Wha-” Said Marinette, her left eyelid drooping. Marinette suddenly gagged and threw up on the desk in front of her, before swaying slightly and collapsing, losing consciousness as she fell. Lila’s eyes gleamed with delight.

Adrien swore, quickly rushing to her side, while Ms. Bustier called for an ambulance. Adrien tilted her head around, trying to see if she had hit her head in the fall.

“What’s going on?” Cried Rose, as Marinette started jerking.

“She’s having a seizure, by the looks of it.” Said Max, everyone oblivious to Lila scowling.

“Are you sure she isn’t faking?” Questioned Lila, getting incredulous looks from the class, “She could just be doing this to get attention from Adrien.”

Nino shook his head, “No, if she was faking, I don’t think she’d hurl, especially since she hates throwing up.”

Lila frowned, “But she said-”

“What did she say?” Demanded Alix, glaring down at Lila.

“W-well,” Lila started lying, “she said that I was to stay away from Adrien, since he was hers and-”

“Lila will you please, shut up.” Growled Adrien, giving the Italian a fierce glare, “Can you stop lying for five minutes, at least so we can help her?”

Everyone was silent, Adrien was usually quiet, the silence remained until the Paramedics arrived and carted Marinette away, only questioning Ms. Bustier regarding the symptoms Marinette showed before her collapse.

One spoke into a walkie-talkie, “15-year-old female, Asian-Caucasian ethnicity, possible stroke.”

The class remained silent as they left with Marinette. Everyone was silent, until Alya quietly looked up what it was and dropped her phone when she saw the result. Everyone jumped as Alya started crying, the bespectacled girl not being one to cry openly.

“What! Alya, what’s wrong?” Asked Nino, frantically.

“What wrong is that there is a chance Marinette’s going to die.” Said Adrien, plainly, leaning back in his seat, “And if she doesn’t, she’s not going to be the same.”

*S*

Adrien quietly set his bag down in his room. He had said nothing to Nathalie, his Bodyguard and his father. Adrien knew that Marinette was having a stroke from the start, he’d witnessed one of his tutors suffer one when he was eight, he didn’t see them again, but he was told that they would no longer be teaching him.

From what Adrien knew, anything could cause a stroke and it could happen anytime and anywhere. Adrien vaguely heard Nathalie call him for dinner, automatically, Adrien got up and sat at the table, mindlessly eating his food in silence and then dismissing himself up to his room.

Gabriel sat stunned, usually Adrien noticed his presence immediately and would continuously try to initiate small talk. But today, Adrien barely acknowledged him, remaining in silence throughout the duration of the meal. Piano notes started floating down through the house, Gabriel identified it as piece by Beethoven, before the sudden noise of a group of keys being hit at once cut the music off. Adrien started playing another piece of music, only for it to end the same way. The cycle of music then clangs continued for the next couple of hours before it stopped. Gabriel slowly looked at Nathalie, who shrugged and pretended to look busy on her tablet. Gabriel assumed Adrien had gone to bed and went up to his lair, intent on Akumatizing someone.

Adrien remained in bed, quietly waiting for his father and Nathalie to go to sleep, before quietly creeping around the mansion and going into his father’s office. Adrien started rummaging around the desk and draws, looking for his father’s bank cards, finding nothing, before going over to the safe hidden behind his mother’s portrait. It took his a few tries to figure out the new combination, but he was able to get it open.

Adrien peered into it, spotting a tablet and his father’s bank and credit cards next to it. Adrien thought the Tablet had the details of the cards, so he took it and the credit cards out and quickly closed the safe and tidying up to hide the fact he had been rummaging around. He then left the office and snuck back into his room, shoving the cards and tablet into his bag before jumping into bed.

He hoped Ladybug wouldn’t be angry that he skipped out on patrol.

*S*

Adrien made sure he put the tablet and the credit cards in his bag before heading out the door, he got into the back of the car waiting for him. He was glad that neither his father nor Nathalie checked his bag before he went out.

He met up with Alya and Nino on the steps of the school, Alya’s eyes glued to her phone. The three started to make their way to class.

“Marinette’s had another stroke.” Mumbled Alya, her voice quiet and scratchy, “They say she’ll survive if she’s lucky.”

Adrien gripped his bag, his knuckles popping as he did. He looked over towards the Bakery, noting that it was closed.

“Marinette’s parents are at the hospital, aren’t they?” Asked Adrien, equally as quiet.”

“They haven’t left her side.” Confirmed Nino, looking down, “They’re hoping for some kind of response from her.”

The three enter the classroom to find Alix being restrained by Kim and Lila on the floor, blood pouring from her nose.

“What the hell?!” Exclaimed Nino, staring at the group.

“That, that bitch tried to claim Marinette was bullying her.” Snarled Alix, struggling against Kim, “She then tried to claim Marinette stole her designs!”

Lila was too busy trying to scramble away to come up with a defence. Alya’s eyes snapped toward the Italian. Within moments, Alya had stalked over, grabbed Lila by the throat and shoved her against the wall.

“How. Dare. You.” Snarled the Creole girl, her eyes red, “Marinette would never steal anyone designs, especially since her designs have been stolen before.”

Lila was slowly turning blue.

“Alya.” Said Adrien, getting Alya to release Lila and turn towards the blond boy, “Marinette wouldn’t want you to-”

“What? Kill her? Make her feel the pain she inflicted on Marinette?” Snapped Alya, as Lila slid to the floor, coughing.

“Doing anything to Lila won’t change the situation.” Said Adrien, his voice level, “If anything, it puts Lila in a sympathetic light.”

Lila tried to slip out the door, while everyone was distracted.

“Although,” Adrien raised his voice, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that delighted look in your eye yesterday, it’s almost as if you were expecting it to happen.”

Lila froze, before jumping to her feet and rushing out the door. Adrien shot after her, running into the door as she slammed it shut.

“Ah, fuck, ow.” Grumbled Adrien, his hand going to his forehead.

Alya was breathing heavily, before she spoke, “Yes, Hawkmoth.”

Darkness enveloped Alya, leaving Lady Wi-fi in her place. Adrien paled slightly, before Lady Wi-fi vanished.

“She can do that now?” Demanded Alix, slumped against Kim chest.

There was a sudden scream from down the hall, making everyone rush out towards the source of the scream. They found Lila suspended in the air, a play symbol over her mouth. Adrien watched as Lila was forced to spill about all of her lies.

Adrien’s blood went cold when he heard Lila scream, “I worked with Hawkmoth to trigger Marinette’s stroke!”

The world went quiet, everyone stood stunned at Lila’s declaration.

“You worked with Hawkmoth to kill my friend?” Snarled Lady Wi-fi, her hand wrapping around Lila’s throat.

Lila could only make choking sounds as she tried to take in air. Adrien was vaguely aware of Nino’s phone going off.

“Alya, stop!” Yelled Nino, getting Lady Wi-fi’s attention.

“Why? She killed Marinette!” Screamed Lady Wi-fi, tears running down her face.

“No, that was Marinette’s Dad, Mari’s woken up.” Lady Wi-fi froze, she blinked, before snarling, “Then she has to live with the scars this bitch gave her!”

Lady Wi-fi’s hand tightened around Lila’s throat again, before a yoyo wrapped around Lady Wi-fi’s waist and tugged her away from the Italian girl.

Lady Wi-fi glared up at the source of the yoyo, before her face went slack, “You’re not Ladybug.”

Adrien stared at the Woman with Ladybug’s Miraculous, she had a short stature, and her hair was in a bob cut, Adrien thought he heard someone say something about ‘thick’ whatever that meant.

“My daughter is currently indisposed at the moment, so I’ve stepped in.” Said the woman, “You can call me Piáo Chóng, if you want.”

“Where’s Ladybug?” Demanded Lady Wi-fi, her phone cracking in her fist.

“My daughter has…” Piáo Chóng trailed off slightly, “been grounded for…not cleaning her room.”

Adrien could tell that she was making that up as she went along.

“She’s a superhero, she’s a little busy.” Huffed Lady Wi-fi, releasing Lila from her grip.

“She’s had a year to do it.” Came Piáo’s flat response, getting a wince from Lady Wi-fi. Piáo Chóng held her hand out.

Lady Wi-fi slowly reached out and grasped it. Piáo raised her eyebrows, before Lady Wi-fi tentatively held out her phone. Piáo Chóng shook the phone a few times and the Akuma fell out, reverting Alya to normal and allowing Piáo Chóng to catch and purify the Akuma.

Lila started with her crocodile tears, only for Piáo Chóng to firmly grab her upper arm and haul her to her feet.

“I suggest you keep her somewhere until the authorities arrive.” Said Piáo Chóng, thrusting Lila towards a teacher, who only nodded numbly.

Before anyone could ask her any questions, Piáo Chóng flung her yoyo into the air and swung away.

A few minutes passed, before the school’s doors burst open. Caline Bustier rushed in, looking as if she was operating on less than an hour of sleep and being kept conscious by spite and several cups of coffee.

“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late-” Ms. Bustier quietly chanted, before almost bowling Adrien over, “Why isn’t anyone in class?”

The thick silence permeated through the air.

“What did I miss?” Sighed Ms. Bustier, silently cursing herself, she always missed the interesting shit.

Adrien silently rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Thinking the lift was moving too slowly. Alya and Nino were behind him, Alya staring at her phone and Nino continuously cleaning his glasses. The lift then dinged when they reached the floor Marinette was on.

“Room 27.” Said Alya, as Adrien speed walked to the room.

Adrien reached the door and knocked twice.

“Jìnlái.” Came Marinette’s voice.

“She said Come in.” Said Adrien, automatically.

“What language was that?” Asked Nino, looking at Adrien.

“Chinese.” Said Adrien, simply.

“But, Marinette can’t speak Chinese.” Said Alya, as Adrien tentatively pushed the door open, spotting Marinette, sporting a new haircut, most likely courtesy of a Nurse after she woke up.

“Hāi, dàjiā hǎo.” Said Marinette, sitting up in her bed.

“She said ‘Hi, guys.’” Translated Adrien, looking at Marinette.

“How’s she able to speak Chinese now?” Asked Alya, confused.

“Xíngchéng.” Said Marinette, before Adrien could translate for Alya.

“She said ‘Stroke.’” Said Adrien, before his face went slack, “She had a stroke and then came in here.”

Marinette nodded, “Yīshēng shuō wǒ hěn xìngyùn néng huózhe.”

Adrien paused so he could fully translate what Marinette had said.

“She said ‘The doctors said she was lucky to be alive.’” Said Adrien, leaning against Marinette’s bed, “Did you hear the news?”

“Shénme xīn xiāoxī?” (What news?) Asked Marinette, tilting her head to the side.

“Lila made the wrong lie and basically admitted to helping Hawkmoth ‘trigger your stroke’ in front of the whole school.” Said Adrien, sitting at the end of the bed, “After being questioned further Lila told the police how she heard you mention the results of a brain scan you had a few weeks back and relayed that to Hawkmoth, they would’ve asked her more, but Hawkmoth, apparently, doesn’t like his secrets being spilt.”

“Tā zuòle shénme?” (What did he do?) Asked Marinette, frowning.

“Lila had an Akuma inside her brain and Hawkmoth made it come out her ear.” Said Adrien, wincing at the grimace Marinette pulled.

“Nǐ kàn dào tí jīle ma?” (Did you see Tikki?) Asked Marinette, getting a surprised look from Adrien.

“Wǒ de nǚshì?” (My Lady?) Gasped Adrien, before Marinette realised her mistake.

“Māomī?” (Kitty?) Whispered Marinette, getting a nod from Adrien.

“I-I brought you this.” Stammered Adrien, after he and Marinette got an odd look from Alya and Nino, “It’s one of my father’s spare tablets, he’s not going to miss it, since he has hundreds.”

Marinette snorted and automatically typed in a code, before she groaned and looked at Adrien, “Yào shūrù shénme dàimǎ?” (What’s the code to get in?)

“Ah, 1-1-8-7.” Said Adrien, getting a smile from Marinette, before she looked down at gasped.

“Wǒ shì wǒ de pīnxiě bù.” (I-i-it's the spellbook.) Stammered Marinette, showing Adrien the screen.

“Dànshì, nǐ shuō Mayura hé Hawkmoth yǒu.” (But, you said Mayura and Hawkmoth had it.) Said Adrien, getting Alya and Nino’s attention.

“What’s that about Mayura and Hawkmoth?” Demanded Alya, as Marinette’s parents walked in.

“Māmā, qǐng gěi wǒ Tikki?” (Mum, can I have Tikki please?) The sprite flew out of her mother’s pocket and into Marinette’s hands, while Adrien slowly coaxed Plagg out of his chest.

“There better be cheese.” Yawned Plagg, stretching his little arms out.

“Plagg!” Scolded Tikki, shooting towards the Black Cat Kwami, “We’ve been forced to reveal ourselves and you immediately want cheese?!”

“I’m a simple cat, with simple needs.” Dismissed Plagg, before looking at Marinette, “What’s up, Pigtails? You don’t look so good.”

“Well, considering she’s had an Akuma beating around inside her brain, I’m sure that would be a given.” Snapped Tikki, “Do you know how much damage I had to fix just for her to wake up? To make sure she stayed alive?!”

Plagg winced, rubbing the back of his head.

“Tí jī.” (Tikki, please.) Said Marinette, getting the red Kwami to fly back over to her, “Zài huò gé mò sī (Hawkmoth) fāxiàn tā zhīqián, zhè kuài bēi shǔyú jiānhùrén.” (This tablet belonged to the Guardian, before Hawkmoth found him.)

Adrien relayed the message to the others and waited for the penny to drop.

Three months and several cancelled credit cards later, courtesy of Gabriel noticing the sudden balance change, Marinette was out of the hospital. Adrien and Sabine had helped her relearn French, Marinette found knowing and understanding Chinese to be a plus, because now she would know what her mother was saying when she was on the phone to family in China.

She would later learn to regret that.

A week after being discharged from the hospital, Adrien dropped through her skylight.

“I think Gabriel’s getting suspicious.” Said Adrien, as soon as Marinette turned to look at him. Adrien has started referring to his father by his first name when he wasn’t in his or Nathalie’s presence.

“You are doing it subtly, right?” Asked Marinette, as Plagg and Tikki flew off to a dark corner.

“I think I am,” Said Adrien, as Marinette limped over.

Another consequence of Marinette’s strokes was that she developed a limp in her left leg, Adrien believed she was going through therapy for it.

“Okay, we just need him in a false sense of security, before we knock the world out from under him.” Said Marinette, “Like another Miracle Queen situation, we need an Akuma that makes him think he’s going to win.”

“Why not get Chloe riled up?” Asked Adrien, “That usually works.”

Marinette grinned at him.

The overall fall out wasn’t what anyone expected, Lila had gotten Akumatized and both Ladybug and Chat Noir pretended to be beaten, luring Hawkmoth out into the open.

“Finally.” Smirked Hawkmoth, as he strode towards Ladybug.

Ladybug shot him a grin, making him stop. Suddenly, Ladybug jumped up, broke Lila’s object and purified the Akuma and knocked Hawkmoth away from the doors.

“I can’t believe this worked.” Said Ladybug, smugly, as Tortue came up behind Hawkmoth and batted him into a wall, “Did you honestly think we’d fall to a frequent Akuma, Gabriel?”

Hawkmoth froze, as Ladybug stalked towards him, Tortue placing a foot on his shoulder to prevent him from moving.

Ladybug bent over and plucked the Butterfly Miraculous from his chest. A thud drew Ladybug’s attention, as Húli threw Mayura to the floor, allowing Ladybug to take the Peacock from her as well. Both Nathalie and Gabriel sat frozen, as Chat Noir walked up to the pair.

“Amazing.” Said Chat, distain colouring his voice, “An emotionally abusive shit stain is a supervillain, I can’t wait to see how that goes down.”

“You don’t understand.” Sneered Gabriel, “I was doing this to save my wife, for my family.”

Chat was silent before he started laughing hysterically.

“’I was doing this for my family’,” Laughed Chat, “By pushing your own son away and neglecting him to the point of him believing something was wrong with him.”

“My son is perfect, as he should be,” Snarled Gabriel, “he should never be anything less.”

Chat continued laughing as his transformation had worn off, leaving a hysterical Adrien in his place. Ladybug started walking over to him, her limp returning as her transformation wore off. Marinette glared down at the Fashion Mogul.

“Why?” asked Marinette, looking down at him, “Lila said she worked with you to trigger my condition, why would you bother with something that would not benefit you in any way?”

“You would’ve been my ultimate creation.” Said Gabriel, wistfully, “The most powerful of my Akumas.”

“How does that work?” Demanded Adrien, glaring down as Gabriel.

“If I may,” Interjected Nooroo, after Marinette attached the butterfly to her jacket, “if an akuma possesses someone who is brain dead, they may control the body completely and absolutely, while retaining the person’s intelligence and skills.”

“A completely loyal minion that won’t fight back, but is still as strong, if not stronger.” Muttered Marinette, looking at Gabriel.

“With the advantage of not feeling pain.” Stated Nooroo, before flying into Marinette’s pocket.

Marinette glared at him, before she kicked him in the face, Adrien holding her steady as she swung her leg out.

Marinette hoped that everything would work out, if not for her sake, then for Adrien’s.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #lila rossi #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #alix kudbel #sabine cheng #tom dupain #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #plagg #Tikki #delta writes #chloe bourgeois

155 notes · View notes

frostedfaves · 4 years

Text

Damage

Part 2

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N has magical abilities and teams up with the squad to take down a villain.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: murder scene, mention of parent death, evil parent

If he's being totally honest, Jake felt very much like the creeps he arrested on the streets of Brooklyn. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the girl across the street who was lost in her phone call. He tried to justify his staring by thinking to himself that he was just worried about a civilian being out late at night alone, but truthfully he was simply captivated by her.

"Dude, are you ready to eat or what?" Rosa followed Jake's gaze and smirked. "I guess that answers my question."

Jake blushed and faced her. "Gross, Rosa, no! I'm just wondering how she's gonna get home safely."

"Certainly not in your car," Amy interjected with a snort.

"What are we talking about? Jakey got a crush?" Charles asked, joining the group followed by Terry and Holt.

"I don't have a crush! As I was just telling nosy Rosie over here, I—"

"Hey, watch out!"

Jake's head immediately turned at Amy's words, expecting to be met with the scene of his mystery girl getting hit by a passing car and instead found something even more jaw-dropping. The girl stood frozen in front of a semi truck that was stopped in the middle of the road, the air between them a neon, glittering pink. She turned to the side of the street where the detective squad stood—suddenly realizing she had an audience—and bolted without question in the direction she came from.

"Wait!" Jake cried out as he began to follow her, instantly cut off by the semi truck that continued to roll down the street abruptly as if commanded. By the time it passed, the girl was gone.

Rosa was the next to break out of her shocked state, laying a cautious hand on Jake's shoulder. "It's probably for the best. Supernatural or not, no girl wants to be chased down the street by a guy she's never met."

A few days later, the nine-nine squad found themselves at the scene of a quadruple homicide. Three customers and a cashier found dead in a bodega, no witnesses and the security camera system conveniently destroyed. The detectives surveyed the store, all mentally scratching their heads and wondering how the hell they were going to solve this one. Even Holt seemed stumped.

"Guys."

Jake turned to look at Charles, following his fearful gaze and nearly jumping out of his skin. On the far side of the store stood his mystery girl. He noticed everyone else move their hands toward their guns, but curiosity got the better of him. He stood slowly, noticing her tear-filled eyes as she looked around the scene.

Holt found his voice first and spoke in his authoritative tone. "Ma'am, this crime scene is part of an active investigation. You cannot—"

"I think I know who did it," she blurted, surprising everyone. Her gaze flickered over to Jake for a second and back to Holt, and he fought the urge to smile. "No puncture or shot wounds, right? Dead all at the same time, just like that?"

"How did you know that?" Amy questioned immediately.

The girl nodded as if answering the question herself. "I know who did it, but I can't tell you here. It's not safe." She glanced outside before quickly conjuring up a glittering pink ball and sending it over to the pocket that held Jake's phone. "When you turn your GPS on, you should be able to find me pretty easily. I'll see you tonight."

The color appeared again as she turned in a circle, pulling a curtain of it over herself. It disappeared with her just as the Medical Examiner stepped into the bodega.

Despite all signs pointing toward this being a bad idea, the squad decided to follow Jake's GPS to her apartment. The building was located on the wealthier part of town, but luckily didn't have a doorman. The mention of the lack of one reminded the detectives that they didn't know the name of the person they were expected to blindly trust, a discussion they had in the elevator on the way to her apartment, of course.

A knock on her door was followed by a muffled "come in", and they opened the door to one of the biggest living rooms they'd ever seen in an apartment. The mystery girl—MG, as Jake so affectionately referred to her—was standing near the ceiling-to-floor window finishing up an impressively majestic horse on a giant upright canvas. Jake thought that by some trick of light the horse was moving but realized when he came to a stop in front of it that it simply was moving.

His eyes moved downward to the artist herself and watched as she closed her paints and put away the rest of the art tools, this time allowing the smile to appear. It seemed silly but he almost felt lucky to be standing in the same room as her again, especially considering that he never thought he'd see her again.

She faced them finally with a small almost shy smile. "I'll be right back after I wash this mess off my hands. You can sit down if you want." She disappeared down the hall, magically closing the curtains as she went, and Jake turned to the group with a shrug.

"Might as well. If she wanted to kill us, she would've done it already."

Apparently this made sense to them because they were all sitting quietly on the couch in armchairs when she returned. They shook their heads at her offer on food and drinks and waited until she pulled up a wooden chair to sit in front of them to speak.

"So are you gonna tell us who you are now or what?" Rosa asked with a glare so intimidating that it made the poor girl cower slightly in her seat.

"Yeah, I am. I'm Y/N Patali, Pavlo Patali's daughter." She could practically hear the alarms going off in their heads just by looking at them and sighed. "If I tell you my sad origin story, will it convince you that I'd like to help you and that I'm not on his side?"

"Not completely, but it may help," Holt replied, giving Y/N no physical indicator that he meant it.

"Okay, well my father's originally from Nuxvar, a tiny village between the cities of Pompeii and Naples that housed all the world's magical people. When he turned 21 and gained the full strength of his powers, he performed dark magic on Mount Vesuvius and made it erupt over the village. He managed to kill every man, woman and child in the village and keep the damage hidden from the neighboring cities, because you could only get into the village if you had powers anyway."

"He wanted to be the only one left with powers," Amy acknowledged and Y/N confirmed.

"He came to New York right after. He met my mother and ended up marrying her, which I can't imagine him doing for citizenship so I'd like to believe he really loved her."

The squad listened as she went on to tell them about her mother discovering that her father was getting away with murder by using his powers and that the explosion that killed his home village wasn't an accident. She explained being 12 and her powers finally arriving, her mother instructing her to magically copy a book from his library that described how to strip a Nuxvarian of their powers as punishment for using them for evil, hoping to bring an end to his reign.

"I'd hidden the copy of course, but he found her reading through the original one day while I was at school because she wanted to learn as much as possible so she could help me learn too." Y/N took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a second to prevent tears from spilling. "I don't know what he did but I was told she suffered from a brain aneurysm and died 'just like that'."

She got up suddenly, walking over to the bookcase and taking the opportunity to wipe away a few stray tears away from everyone's eyes. She returned with a book that she placed on the coffee table between them as she sat down.

"My father told CPS that he was mentally unfit to care for me because I looked so much like my mother that it was driving him insane. This book was the only thing I managed to hold onto throughout my entire time in foster care and I've been studying it ever since. I think I can do it now, and then you can finally arrest him."

She spoke again before they could respond. "I can also help you track down all the people working in his drug cartel."

Jake was the next to speak. "I think we should do it."

"Peralta—"

"Sir, hear me out. Patali has one of the biggest drug rings we've ever had the misfortune of coming across and every time we've come close to shutting him down, we're suddenly right back where we started and now that we've heard her story, it all makes sense!"

"Sir, I never thought I'd say this but Peralta has a point," Amy timidly addressed Holt, choosing to ignore Jake's smirk.

"I agree," Rosa added in her usual monotone manner. "If we keep going at it like we have been, Commissioner Kelly is just going to get more and more pissed at us for wasting departmental resources. We should at least give Y/N a shot."

"Does everyone feel this way?" Holt gave a glance around the room, taking notice of everyone's heads nodding before meeting eyes with Y/N. "I suppose we could try things your way."

Her eyes danced around the room, gaze landing on Jake for a little longer than she meant to before making eye contact with Holt again.

"I promise not to let you down."

#queue #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta imagine #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic

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wickedsrest-rp-archive · 3 years

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Name: Cutler Clarke Species: Human Occupation: Owner and Clerk at Clarke’s Convenience Age: 35 Years Old Played by: Kris Face Claim: Chad Coleman

“I was voted "Most Likely To Succeed” in high school. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.“

Surgery has been part of Cutler’s life from a young age. As he grew, he began to accumulate scars; a pale line over his lip correcting a cleft palate as an infant, patchy pink webbing over dark kneecaps, two thick lines below a newly flat chest. Cutler grew up in White Crest in the apartment above Clarke’s Convenience, a Caribbean grocery/corner store hybrid that his parents opened in town before he was born. Since moving away for medical school he has since “forgotten” all the strange happenings that plagued his childhood, leaving behind the dark shadows of his hometown for the thick anatomy textbooks and droning professors of medical school, and the bright fluorescents of a prestigious surgical residency.

He was well on the way to achieving his childhood dream of becoming a Cosmetic Surgeon when, in a no more than a split second, he made an unconscionable, fatal mistake during a surgery he was scrubbed in on. The whispers of his fellow residents spoke the truth before the official investigation confirmed it: that his vision was failing, far from the 20/20 that was required for the program. That even if that hadn’t been the case, the attending physician had smelled alcohol on his breath before the procedure, and Cutler had fallen behind in most of his classes.

Shortly after being removed from his residency, his mother suffered an aneurysm that left her in an unresponsive coma. His guilt tells him it was the shock, but the more likely explanation is high blood pressure and the horrible, random machinations of his hometown. His father, who had always been uncomfortable with both the supernatural anomalies of the town and with Cutler’s transition and gender identity, left the family store and the care of Cutler’s mother to him and started a new family in a neighboring county. So Cutler settled down and embraced the quiet life, content to sell island spices and cigarettes to his parents’ regulars and never again think on surgical diagrams or patient aftercare. Three times a week he visits his mother in the long-term care home and reads her novels or plays her music. It only took a few months of running the store for Cutler to realize he was not going to make any money. In fact, at the rate business was going (or lack thereof), he would soon be in the red. So, he turned to what he knows best: questionable surgeries under less-than-ideal conditions. It started with a young man suffering from a gunshot wound, outside the store by coincidence. If White Crest citizens can believe in such things as coincidence. Cutler treated him, determined not to let him bleed out just because he refused to go to the hospital, and word spread. Slowly, at first, among those who have reason to seek treatment privately. Now, Cutler makes enough money off a single under-the-table medical procedure to pay his bills each month and has enough left over for personal expenses.

Cutler can usually be found behind the counter at the store in a stained green apron, nursing an Irish Coffee that’s considerably more Irish than coffee. He’s built heavy and wide, broad shoulders leading to a stocky midframe and considerable love handles. He has fully embraced the cable knit sweaters of small-town Maine, growing a well-trimmed beard to match that is broken only by a thin scar over his lip leading to his nose. He is slow to smile, a habit formed in his youth to conceal the slight snarl his scar creates, but quick to laugh. Serious to a point, playful in his flirtations and generous in store discounts.

Character Facts:

Personality: Hedonistic, good-natured, apathetic, flirtatious, resourceful

Owner and sole employee of Clarke’s Convenience, one-stop shop for everything from lottery tickets to island spices and fruits.

In addition to relying financially on his illegal surgical side business, he often provides informal diagnoses and irresponsibly suggests treatment for customers’ ailments while they are in-store, free of charge (and often, unprovoked).

Cutler is an excellent cook. He learned Jamaican food at his mother’s hip and has been expanding his repertoire ever since.

He has a stomach of steel, and is unflappable in the face of the most stomach turning visuals and textures. Friends from med school used to send him increasingly disturbing images in hopes of breaking through his calm exterior. The most they ever sparked in him was further fascination with the human body.

He needs glasses, but refuses to wear them. They sit in his shirt pocket most of the time, and are only used for small text on labels and phone screens.

#chad coleman #taken #taken human #all #bio #taken np #np #human

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thelittleinjenthatcould · 3 years

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Hi loves! My latest post is up #ontheblog Jen Finds Gems

New Post has been published on https://www.jenfindsgems.com/more-than-migraines/

Opening Up About my Health: More than Migraines

On October 11th the symptoms started. I went for a bike ride on a beautiful Sunday morning (feeling a little nauseous, but ready to power through it). It was pretty hot and I biked farther than usual so when I returned feeling more nauseous than before and a little “out of it”, I figured I was just dehydrated. I remember speaking to my sister and brother in law on the phone about an hour later and suddenly starting to feel a migraine come on. I figured if I just take it easy and drink some water with my usual migraine meds, it would pass quickly.

It didn’t.

On October 13th I visited my primary Doctor for my symptoms. My migraine was still present but I was feeling dizzy and nauseous. I knew something was wrong. I made the mistake of mentioning that I thought I had vertigo, and after doing a few manual tests (follow my finger, touch your nose, walk in a straight line, etc.) the Doctor said that’s what it sounds like so let’s treat it as vertigto. He preseribed me a anti-dizziness medication called Meclizine and told me that in order to recover and help with the dizziness, I should see a physical therapist.

What? A physical therapist? This won’t pass on it’s own? I have to see a physical therapist to help me walk “normal” again? How did this happen? How long am I going to feel this way? I had so many questions! I visited a physical therapist twice before I realized that there was a bigger problem that lied ahead. The therapist listened to my symptoms and concerns and ran a few tests on his own (the epley maneuver) and realized that this didn’t sound like vertigo at all. “I think we are dealing with something bigger here Jen,” he told me.

I kept that with me. Something bigger. Okay… but what? No one could give me answers.

I was a mess and everyday functions seemed difficult or damn near impossible. I couldn’t move too quickly. I couldn’t look around a room without getting pains. It had gotten to the point where just turning my head from one side to the other felt like the room was violently spinning and I was beginning to have double and blurred vision in my right eye. I couldn’t lay flat, sleep on my right side, or sleep in total darkness because that made the dizziness worse. I felt like I was free falling in the dark and of course that made me super nauseous.

Saturday morning I woke up ready to vomit and I almost fell to my feet. Walking was too difficult because I swayed from one side to the other and I had to run and grab a wall to hold. I fell to my knees and crawled to the bathroom, vomiting for hours. When my husband returned home (he went to drop the kids off at family’s house so he could take care of me) I was hugging the toilet, sweating and holding my head with my eyes closed. I didn’t know if I was having a stroke, a seizure, suffering from brain tumor, or an aneurysm. I was terrified.

That day Nick took me to the Emergency room. They drugged me up and ran countless tests from MRI’s, MRA’s, CT scans and heart evaluations. I was picked and prodded by nurses and Doctors and the on site Neurologist told me that my exams came back fine. He said there wasn’t any area of concern that he could find but he wanted me to follow up with ENT for a possible inner ear issue and then follow up with him for brain evaluations as this could have been linked to my migraines. He also prescribed a medication by the name of Topiramate which is an anti-seizure medication that is used to treat migraines.

After coming home from the hospital, covered in EKG tabs.

I have been suffering from migraines for over 20 years and they never presented themselves in this way. What was happening inside my body? Why now and why wasn’t anything showing up on the tests? I was confused and I was scared.

I was released from the hospital the next day, more confused and afraid than ever. I had no idea what was happening and what I was supposed to do from here. So this is it, I thought. This is how I’m going to feel forever.

As the days and weeks went on, I continued to do research, pray and research more. I made an appointment with an ENT Specialist that left me in tears because he said whether this is an inner ear issue or a migraine issue, it could take years to recover. Years? What the hell! I can barely walk without holding on to my husband or a wall, I can’t be in a bright room and too much noise or movement is over stimulation for me. Years?

That night I found two blogs that gave me relief- The Dizzy Cook and Jennifer of Migraine Strong. I read their stories and instantly felt closer to answers. They spoke about their experiences with vestibular migraines, dizziness and other symptoms, their road to recovery and their treatment plans. Every night I went back to their words. I studied their plans and their courses of action. I took notes of what they did and how it helped them. I looked up the books they recommended and the supplements they took and then… I found that Jen went to Dr. Danner in Tampa that specializes in migraines and neurology! He’s here in Tampa?! I HAVE TO SEE HIM!!

My first appointment with Dr. Danner was on November 4th. He listened to my concerns and helped me understand that what I was experiencing could have been an inner ear issue or be a migraine issue however regardless of which one it was, it would be treated in the same way. He encouraged me to follow a migraine elimination diet to help me find what my triggers are, start taking at least 500 mgs of a magnesium supplement everyday, keep taking my prevention medication, and follow up with him in a month.

I followed the elimination diet to a “T”. I fell in love with a book called “Heal Your Headache,” and I went down rabbit hole after rabbit hole of vestibular migraine research.

A few weeks went by my dizziness subsided but I started to notice that the migraine prevention medication that I was on was giving me adverse effects. I had crazy brain fog, to the point where I found it hard to hold conversations or keep a thought for longer than a few seconds. It made me crazy exhausted, depressed, and I lost about 20 lbs. It made my body feel cold (literally) and I felt frail and weak. The day before Thanksgiving I called Dr. Danner and asked if I should keep taking this medication or stop based on these symptoms and a numbness I started to feel in my right leg. After careful consideration, he recommended that I stop but continue the other migraine treatment plan and follow up with him at my next appointment (which was about a week and a half later).

When I had my follow up appointment, he asked me how I felt. By that time, the numbness in my right limbs had started to feel like a heaviness and my leg would sporadically “lock up”. My leg and arm would move (or not move) on their own and it started to worry me. Dr. Danner had his office staff call in an appointment for me with Dr. Sunil Reddy, an awesome Neurologist in Tampa that could take a deeper look to see if there were possibly any other neurological issues going on.

I have been going to my Neurologist and weekly physical therapy appointments since.

Today I experience less migraines and the spasms in my arms and legs are few and far between. These spasms are believed to be linked to Transverse Myelisits which is inflammation of the spinal cord. This was determined from a neck MRI that I had that showed some scarring on my spine. Sometimes Transverse Myelitis can progress to MS however sometimes it is a one time event that can heal on it’s own. After several brain MRI’s, my Neurologist does not see any lesions or scarring on my brain and does not see an area of concern there. My next order is to get an MRI of my spine and we will monitor and make an action plan based on the findings there.

I still have no idea what triggered all of this to occur and if they are linked in any way. Did my migraines progress into something more which caused these other symptoms and issues? Was something lying dormant and now decided to progress as I got older? How does your spinal cord even get inflammed? Is it something I did??

I’m still learning and I think that my greatest lesson is that I won’t always have the answers. But I know I’m not giving up, and all of this taught me that I’m more of a warrior than I realize!

I am writing this because I hope to help someone that may be going through something similar, just as Jen and “The Dizzy Cook” helped me. When all of this started to happen, all I could do was think of how much I wanted to write about my experiences for this reason. I wish that I could have given you a full synopsis of what I was experiencing in live time, but things progressed so quickly that I seldom had time to process them fully, or the energy or brain power to do so.

I’m sure I left out a lot of details. Like me crying every night wondering why this was happening. My husband having to physically hold me up to walk and take a shower because I was too dizzy to stand. The lack of confidence I had making eye contact with people, in fear that they would see my eyes darting from side to side or trying to focus. Wondering if people were whispering or thinking I was drunk when I stumbled to walk at my daughter’s Gymnastics class or my son’s Taekwondo class. Seeing more Doctor’s, nurses, emergency rooms and Specialists in the last 4 months that I have in the past 5 years. The time, money and MEDICAL BILLS I have racked up since this all started.

This journey has been humbling and frustrating, but I’m happy that I am stronger now than when I started.

I hope that this has helped you in some way and I look forward to sharing more of my journey with you here. If you haven’t already, please check out my blog post on my recommendations for dealing with migraines and follow me on IG for more health and wellness tips.

Stay encouraged and stay positive friends.

With love,

Jennifer.

#migraines

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stillwithkoo · 5 years

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Jungkook halloween oneshot drabble; where u decided to have fun in his room, someone gets murdered on his floor, and u both get questioned. theres a lottle smut beware owo, also ive had this idea for so long but i just shitwrote it now (this is unedited so sorry for everything lmao.)

It was 10pm, You and Jungkook were on your way to his dorm. He was being annoying as always, touching your ass as you guys walk, and you were acting like you hate it but you secretly loved it when he's being touchy.

There weren't many students wandering outside anymore so he had the audacity, but even if there were your shameless asses wouldn't care. His dorm wasn't that far and that wasn't what concerned you. It was that the dorm was old and there have been eerie stories about it, they even have a weird curfew at 10:30 but no one really follows it. It's your first time going there since you started doing this fckbuddies thing with jungkook.

You hated each other at first, but realized it was just because of your hidden attraction towards eachother. And now you're backed against the wall, because Jungkook couldn't wait to get to his floor to make out with you. It was quite annoying that his room was on the 3rd floor too, and there wasn't an elevator.

It was getting cold and you were having goosebumps from the eerie place, so when you stopped kissing to breathe, you convinced jungkook to continue it in his room and head upstairs already.

It was almost 11, and Jungkook was still fumbling with his keys while at the same time kissing you. "I think we need to stop for a sec, so you can open it faster ya know." You suggest, pushing him away a bit.

He agrees, and tries to open his door again, but it seemed to be stuck and won't open for some odd reason. Jungkook's confused and irritated, he's been living here for a year and this never happened til now. You were getting impatient too, you were supposed to be getting your tits sucked now or riding his fat dick, but his damn door still won't open.

"Fuck it!" Jungkook exclaimed, and grabbed your waist to continue sucking eachother's faces and you grabbed his hair. You heard footsteps and wondered if someone was coming in your direction, so you tried to stop kissing Jungkook, but he just told you to ignore it.

"Ouch, babe don't grab my hair too hard."

Jungkook stopped because the pain was quite unbearable, he wasn't a wimp but it really did hurt a lot when you grabbed his hair. But you met his eyes with a confused look.

"Kook, that was awhile ago. I didn't grab your hair now, my hands were on your neck."

You really were telling the truth, and now you're creeped out as hell. "There's no one else out here. If it wasn't you, then who else could've done it? a ghost? anyway, let's just try to open this damn door again."

After inserting the key, and twisting the knob just like you did before it still won't budge. Jungkook was about to kick it when it suddenly opened. This place was really weird, you thought. You guys finally got inside and you sat on his bed, while Jungkook locked his door.

You checked your phone and it was almost 12 already, you were really out there that long?

"If you're not in the mood anymore I understand. we can just cuddle and watch a movie or something," he suddenly spoke.

"No- I still want to. I still want you." You said, though some stranger things shit just happened not to long ago. Maybe your lust for him was stronger than your fear.

"That's great then baby, come here and sit on my lap." he commanded, so you went and straddled him. You made out again sucking each others tongues, and not long after, your clothes were off.

Jungkook pinched your nipples and rolled it between his fingers, then sucked both respectively just like how you wanted him to. You palmed his crotch and rubbed him up. After some nice foreplay, and eating eachother out, his dick was finally inside you. You were in the middle of fucking when you thought you heard a girl scream.

"Kook, did you hear that?"

"Hear what? I'm sure it's nothing babe, stop overthinking. Am I not fucking you hard enough?" He says in between thrusts, he goes inside you faster and pounds you harder, so you couldn't think about anything else but his amazing dick and the mind blowing sex you're having.

It worked for awhile, until you heard faint knocks on the door. You looked at Jungkook, but he seemed to be too lost in his bliss to notice or hear someone knocking on his door. You didn't want him to think you were crazy and freaking out again, so you didn't tell him, and asked him to play some music, saying it would mask the sounds of your loud lovefcking.

The next morning, you woke up in Jungkook's arms. He was still asleep, and the atmosphere felt better now. It was like the strange events that occured last night was just a dream, or so you thought. After a quickie in the shower, Jungkook was telling you to hurry up with your makeup.

Since he was hungry. Honestly you both were, and you still have an 11am class. When you opened the door though, two odd looking police officers were staring at you like they didn't mean well.

"Uh- what can we do for you officers?" Jungkook was the first one to speak.

"Good morning, Do you guys mind if we ask you a few questions, about the murder last night here on your floor?"

"More specifically, did you guys see or hear anything unusual last night?" The other one said.

"There was a murder last night?" You inquired.

"Yes. A guy died, they say it was suicide, but we figured out he was strangled, perhaps choked to death." "Well, that's unfortunate. But No, we didn't see or hear anything last night. The music from the speakers, were probably too loud for us to hear anything. And we were probably asleep when that happened." Jungkook replied.

"Hmm. How about you miss? Do you have anything to say?" The officer looked at you, waiting for you to say something helpful or whatever. You glanced at jungkook, but he looked like he couldn't help you anyway. "I- No... We really didn't see or hear anything last night." You replied.

"Well, if that's what you say. But we might still invite everyone on this floor for questioning tom. If the murderer still isn't found. And you could always go to the police station, if you forgot to tell us something you should have." He says while staring at you subtly. So you cling unto Jungkook's arm for support.

"I don't get why they need to interrogate us again, we already told them we didn't hear anything." Jungkook says, as you guys eat chicken at Wcdonald's. "Maybe I should've told them what i heard, Kook." You say quietly, your voice almost a whisper.

"Baby what are you talking about? The scream you heard last night? you said it was from a girl- and obviously it was a guy who died."

"But what if the girl was with him? And she killed him? ughh I just don't want my conscience to kill me you know."

"Baby, maybe you're just overthinking. I think we did the right thing. We shouldn't get more involved with it, it's giving me an aneurysm already. Besides, what if the guy was involved with drugs? We wouldn't want to suffer the same fate as him." "Aren't you overthinking too? ugh. I've made up my mind. If the suspect still isn't caught today, I'm telling them about what I heard. And you're coming with me Baby."

"So, you're saying you heard a girl scream that night- while you were..." The police station officer says, while looking at you and Jungkook to make sure. "fucking. when we were fucking." You retorted.

You were tired of thinking about it since last night. "And afterwards, you heard faint knocks on the door?"

"Yes. Then I told him to play some music so I won't hear anything anymore." You replied.

"Well, the girl you heard was probably Anna. Your boyfriend's dorm is quite old you see," You almost rolled your eyes when he called Jungkook your boyfriend. You were just fckfriends and you wanted to correct the officer, but didn't wanna interrupt his story-telling.

"It's up to you if you'll believe my story, but a few years ago, there was a guy named Jason who dormed there, and he had a girlfriend named Anna. He was also a drug dealer, and unfortunately one night they got into a fight because he had to break up with her. It turns out he did it to protect her, cos some gang members were looking for him to kill him. One of the gang members probably found him and strangled him to death. Maybe because shooting him would be too messy, and would arouse more suspicion. Anna perhaps found out about it that night, and screamed for help. She still screams and knocks on doors for help every night on their death anniversary."

"their? she died too?" You inquired.

"Yes, she killed herself that day too. Unfortunately. There were some rumors that she killed him too, but who really knows what happened right? The gang member who killed jason was never caught, so maybe that's why her soul's still not in peace."

"But wait, there were police officers who interrogated us yesterday. Were they ghosts too?"

"Probably. There were officers who died while they fought off some gang members who were escaping- maybe they wanted you to remember them too."

"Well- Can't we do anything about it? Maybe have the whole place blessed again or somethin." You suggested. "They bless the dorm once every 2 years, so..." Jungkook spoke again.

"Maybe we should convince them to make it every year, or month-" You looked at him determined.

You thanked the officer for listening to you and telling you everything, you later learned his name was Kim Namjoon. You then decided to go back to your Uni.

"You knew about the story didn't you?" You asked Jungkook, as you walk to Uni. "I might've heard of it."

"Then why didn't you tell me? were you afraid I wasn't gonna go and do it with you that night, if I knew the place was haunted?"

"No- It wasn't really that. I just didn't want you to think I'm a freak or that I have a screw loose. I didn't wanna freak you out too." He sincerely replied. "I didn't wanna believe in it at first, but then you came that night and strange things really started happening. I realized maybe it was- true."

"Ugh, and you still accused me of grabbing your hair too hard- when it wasn't me." You told him, slightly teasing to see if he'd be scared.

"Sorry baby. I guess I didn't want to accept the fact that it was a ghost who actually grabbed my hair. Guess, Anna was jealous of us being in-love and happy." Did he just say you two were inlove? but then he quickly retracted the statement and said, "I meant- Alive and happy. Ugh fck me." The blush he had said otherwise.

"I already did. But wait, did you just say we're inlove? Jungkook are you inlove with me?" you asked him.

"No- I...just made a mistake okay? Can we go back to class now?" He's dodging the question. "Stop avoiding the subject, Do you like me or not Jung fcking Kook? don't make me say it first, and don't lie to me. If you lie, I'll never speak to you again." You snapped.

"Fine. Maybe I like you a little. So what?"

"Bye, Don't talk to me again-"

"Y/N wait! Fine I'm inlove with you okay? I like you a lot. Happy now princess?" He then gave you a cocky smirk. You turned to face him and got closer, "Really? You're not messing with me right now? If you aren't then I like you too. A lottle."

"No I'm not messing around. I really do like you, and would like to fuck you again tonight." He told you as he put his hands around your waist. "That's lovely, but I'll only accept your offer if you become my boyfriend, and promise me we'll never go to your place again." You feigned to pout, and he found your statement hilarious and cute at the same time, so he pecked your lips.

"Deal. I'm actually thinking of moving to an apartment too, maybe you should come and stay with me." He winks at you shamelessly.

"Wow. Aren't you so fast? Asking me to move in with you already huh? I'll think about it. Though honestly, I'd go anywhere with you because of that dick of yours." You jokingly tell him, you knew it wasn't just because of his dick.

You were undeniably whipped for his coconut btch ass too. But you don't wanna inflate his humungous ego more than it already is. He pouted, and you just laughed and kissed him. You were too late- for your current class anyway.

♡

Thank you for reading!♡♡♡

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threnodygrimblood · 5 years

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The Family That Shouldn’t Be

Summary: With Muriel and Eustace dead, Courage finds himself all alone at the farmhouse. Fortunately or unfortunately for Courage, the villains he faced in the past begins to make themselves at home at the farmhouse, bringing with them much fun and mayhem the small pink dog can handle.

I started watching Courage the Cowardly Dog again and with it came looking at fanart which then led to falling in love with Courage/Katz and reading fanfics. So I just had to write one or two myself. I hope it’s entertaining.

Rated T for just in case

The Light That Faded Away

֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍

Muriel is dead.

The notion was still hard for Courage to grasp. One-minute Muriel was fine, puttering around the kitchen, a smile on her face as she hummed her little hum while working on their lunch. Yes, she was fine except for the headache that suddenly came out of nowhere.

"Oh. This headache will be the death of me." Muriel uttered as she presses a hand to her head.

Courage whined in sympathy for his owner.

"I think I'll sit in my chair for a wee rest." Muriel decided. "Courage, can you please keep an eye on lunch and get me when it's exactly 11:30?"

"Mm-hm." Courage answered with a nod and a smile.

"Such a good boy." Muriel cooed as she gives Courage a few pats on his head.

Muriel's pats always made him happy. Courage watched Muriel make her way out of the kitchen and decided to help her feel better by making Muriel's favorite tea. Once the tea was made and poured into a cup, Courage carefully carried the cup to Muriel. He didn't hear the familiar creaking of Muriel's rocking chair. She wasn't moving at all. She's resting was Courage's thought, so he set the cup on the table next to Muriel's chair and quietly tiptoed back to the kitchen to keep an eye on lunch and to give Muriel the rest she needed.

When 11:30 rolled around, Courage headed back to the living area to let Muriel know it's time. He patted her leg to wake her up, but Muriel didn't stir. A frown creased Courage's face, and he patted her leg again, firmly. Muriel again didn't stir, nor did she move.

Panic settled over Courage as he frantically started shaking at Muriel while yelling, "Muriel? Muriel! Please wake up!"

When that didn't work, Courage was ready to get Eustace when, at the same time, the farmer kicked the front door open and walked in.

"Muriel! Is lunch ready yet?" Eustace demanded to know.

Courage hopped in place as he points at Muriel and babbles at Eustace. The anger on Eustace's face faded to concern.

"Muriel?" Eustace called out softly at first and then loudly, "Muriel!"

The farmer wasted no time calling for an ambulance, and Courage quickly made sure to turn off the stove so as not to burn the meal Muriel was making and not to burn the house down. The ambulance arrived quickly, and the EMTs rushed in with a gurney and looked at Muriel. Eustace and Courage watched from the side as the EMTs checked Muriel over and conversed with each other. They worked together to ease Muriel out of her chair and onto the gurney and scrambled for the ambulance.

Eustace and Courage followed, and both got into the back with the other EMT. Courage sat in the ambulance as it sped to the hospital; he was somewhat surprised Eustace didn't stop the little pink dog from accompanying him. It indeed showed how worried he is for his wife. Once they reached the hospital, the EMTs hopped out their vehicle and taking hold of the gurney, raced into the hospital. Eustace and Courage were asked to wait in the waiting room, and the two sat in the uncomfortable chairs for any news on the woman they loved. It felt like hours went by, it wasn't very long when a doctor- not Dr. Vindaloo- approached them.

"Mr. Bagge?" the doctor inquired.

Eustace and Courage got to their feet and turned their attentions to the doctor.

"How is she?" Eustace asked, fear in his voice.

"I'm sorry to inform you, Mr. Bagge. Your wife has passed."

Courage was sure his heart stopped as he went numb from the news. He vaguely heard the doctor explained how she had been dead since she sat in the chair. The doctor mentioned doing an autopsy and finding a cerebral aneurysm that had ruptured. How he explained that if they had caught it sooner, they could've done something about the aneurysm despite the risks that came with the surgery.

After a moment of silence, Eustace finally spoke. "Did she suffer?"

"There's some mercy in that there was no real pain for her, it was like passing away peacefully in her sleep."

Courage's heart sank. Had Courage been more concerned about Muriel's headache, he could've saved her? Silent once again filled the two as the doctor gave the farmer his condolences and walked away.

Eustace had gotten a taxi back to the farm, and the ride back home was bathed in silence. Courage gazed up at Eustace as he did not once grumble about the fare costing him money, he just paid the driver and walked into the house. Courage followed Eustace and watched as the farmer sat in his armchair. Courage walked more into the living room and found himself staring at the empty rocking chair. His heart grew heavy, and tears prickled his eyes as the realization that Muriel was gone hit him. He would never hear that chair creak as its owner rocked back and forth in it, will never get to sit in that lap content and happy while being petted by the woman he adored and saved numerous of times from so many dangers, never hear her humming as she cooked or cleaned, never hear her gentle words or hear her scowl Eustace for being cruel to Courage, and never will he ever hear Muriel proudly say her secret ingredient in all her recipes is vinegar.

Courage let out a loud sniff and blinked his eyes as tears began their trek down his face. He rubbed the tears from his eyes and face and discovered Eustace had left. Courage wondered how long he had been deep in thought as he went in search of the farmer. The small pink dog found his remaining owner in the kitchen, placing the phone back in its place. Must've been deciding what to do with Muriel Courage decided as Eustace sat at the kitchen table. Time ticked by, and Courage's eyes roamed around the kitchen when they fell upon the pot on the stove, the lunch Muriel was working on for all three.

His gut wrenched at the sight of it, but he knew that they hadn't eaten lunch yet, and Muriel wouldn't want them to grow hungry, let alone waste the meal, so Courage took it upon himself to finish what Muriel started. Courage headed over to reheat the stew sitting on the stove, turned the burner on the right setting so as not to burn the stew. He carefully stirred the content as the kitchen filled with an intoxicating scent and the sound of the stew bubbling. Once the stew was perfectly heated, Courage turned the stove off and spooned a helping into two bowls. Not once had Eustace said a thing. He didn't even acknowledge Courage as the pink dog set a bowl down in front of him. Nor did he snarl at the dog to get off the table when Courage sat across the farmer.

Courage observed Eustace as he waited for his stew to cool, still not a word poured from his mouth and not a muscle twitched. A whine forced its way out of Courage as he slowly began eating his cooled stew. Finally, Eustace picked up the spoon and started eating the stew. Courage was relieved until he saw the farmer finishing half the bowl before getting up from the table and leaving the kitchen. Courage sighed, finished his meal, and set to work on storing the leftovers and washing the dishes. Courage walked into the living room to find the farmer not there, so he went up the stairs, and after checking the bathroom first, pushed the bedroom door open slightly and spotted Eustace's familiar shape on his side of the bed.

Not quite ready for sleep, Courage hiked up the stairs to the attic to where the computer is.

"You again?" the computer inquired as the pink dog sat on the upturned bucket sitting on the chair.

He stared at the computer screen picking through his thoughts and feelings on what happened the day.

"I'm waiting." the computer uttered, a hint of annoyance in its tone.

Courage finally deciding on what to talk about began by asking what an aneurysm is.

"Which one?" the computer questioned. "There are many types." and commence and educating Courage on the many places in the body where an aneurysm could take place.

When the computer got to a cerebral aneurysm, Courage recalled the doctor telling them about it and quickly typed on the keyboards.

"Why so interested all of a sudden?" the computer asked.

With a heavy heart, Courage informed the computer the news about Muriel's death.

"Oh, I see." the computer was sympathetic and worked on giving Courage all the information he could find on the cerebral aneurysm.

"Something else on your mind?" the computer examined after observing the pink dog's expression.

Courage typed up what had been eating at him, which to say, he feels responsible for Muriel's death. Maybe if he had paid more attention to Muriel's headache, been more worried about it, perhaps he could've saved her from death's grip.

"Twit." the computer said somewhat fondly. "Aneurysms can be tricky. And most people who have their aneurysms rupture are never aware of it, chalking it up to be some mundane illness until it's too late, no matter how rare that happens. Most catch the aneurysms early before it ruptures when they are being scanned. In other words, it's not your fault."

Courage whined sadly. So, there was nothing the small pink dog could've done. But Courage did feel a little better after being told he wasn't at fault.

Courage and the computer chatted a little longer before he decided it was time for bed. After turning out the light- the computer demanded that Courage didn't turn him off- he went back down to the second floor and into the bedroom. Courage jumped on the bed and made sure that Eustace was asleep before settling down at the foot of the bed. His eyes fixated on the empty spot next to Eustace. A sigh escaped out of Courage, and he closed his eyes as he felt tears well up once more. It's been an emotional day, and he's going to need sleep to prepare for what the next day will bring.

#Courage the Cowardly Dog #Fanfic #ThrenodyGrimblood #First chapter #The Family That Shouldn't Be #Courage

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shyearthquakedaze · 4 years

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At first it seemed like a bad joke. On April 14, 2010, reports started trickling in that Peter Thomas Ratajczk (aka Peter Steele), the hulkish frontman of Type O Negative, was dead. It was impossible to believe, and not just for the normal reasons. Steele had a legendary morbid streak and was no novice at defying death.

Since forming Type O Negative in 1989 out of the ashes of crossover metal band Carnivore, Steele had attempted suicide, overdosed, and even faked his own death in 2005 with a post on the band’s website. He seemed like a gothic metal Keith Richards, a guy who would tempt fate over and over and live to tell the tale. But on April 14, 2010, Steele, who had been sick in bed with the flu for a couple days, died from an aortic aneurysm at age 48.

There had been several occasions when Steele was battling with drugs and alcohol and was lying in the hospital, seemingly on the verge of expiration, but this wasn’t one of them. Just days before he died, he was proud about finally being clean and sober and excited about moving to a place near Staten Island to start working on the follow-up to the band’s seventh album, 2007’s Dead Again.

Type O Negative guitarist Kenny Hickey and drummer Johnny Kelly were getting ready to rehearse with their doom metal side project Seventh Void when Kelly received the bad news.

“I got a phone call from a number that I didn’t recognize, so I let it go to voicemail,” he says. “It was Peter’s sister. I called her up and said, ‘What’s up?’ and she was like, ‘We lost Peter.’ I said, ‘What do you mean?’ and she said, ‘He’s gone.’ At the time, they didn’t know the cause of death.”

After he received the news, Kelly drove the rest of the short distance to rehearsal and told Hickey what had happened. “He started yelling at me: ‘How come you didn’t call me?!?’ recalls Kelly. “I was like, ‘I was going to see you in five minutes!’ I didn’t want to tell him over the phone. We were both in complete disbelief. It was like the end of an era, man. The end of an era.”

While Steele was clean and sober when he died, he abused alcohol and drugs — especially cocaine — for years even though he was on medication for a heart condition known at atrial fibrillation, basically an irregular heartbeat. “Who knows if he died from all the drugs over the years or something else,” says keyboardist Josh Silver. “He was diagnosed with the condition years and years ago, but if you take care of yourself and do the right stuff it’s something you can live with for quite a while. There are plenty of 90-year-olds running around with it.”

Hickey adds, “He always said that he felt the flutter in his heart, even when he was a kid, so he might have been born with it for all we know. He’s had four or five males in his family that have died from heart disease before 50, so it could have been congenital. Who knows? There is a price you pay for being so big, too.”

Steel was 6 feet, 7 inches; he wasn’t just large, he was larger than life. Though he claimed he was shy and suffered from stage fright, he eagerly embraced his role as spokesman for the band. As such, he had a deep voice and was surprisingly soft-spoken but had a razor-sharp wit and a hysterical, self-deprecating sense of humor. The singer-bassist claimed to be a misanthropist, wrote sarcastic lyrics that got him pegged by some as a racist and a misogynist. He repeatedly denied the accusations and those close to him insist the misunderstandings were all a part of Steele’s bizarre sense of humor. That said, he was arguably homophobic. He once told me in an interview that he wasn’t “anti-homosexual, just pro-heterosexual.” But lyrics to songs like “I Like Goils” suggest otherwise: “I know I’m strange but I ain’t no queer, so take your rage and disappear/… To make it clear that you can’t bone me my tattooed ass reads ‘exit only.’”

In 1995, during the height of the success of Type O Negative’s most popular album Bloody Kisses (which included the hit “Black No. 1 (Little Miss Scare-All)”), Steele posed full frontal nude for the centerfold of Playgirl. The move made a splash among the band’s female fans, and some of their male ones as well. “He got upset when gay guys came up and asked for his autograph with the picture,” recalls Hickey. “Some of them even came up to me. I was like, ‘I ain’t signing that. Get the f— out of here!’”

Despite Steele’s public reputation, he was undyingly loyal to those who knew him and friendly to fans. Still, those who knew him best remember his excessive behavior, whether writing music or engaging in day-to-day activities. “Peter always did things in extremes,” Kelly recalls. “If he was going to work out, he was going to be as big as he could be. When it came to eating, he wouldn’t just sit down and have a meal, he had to have two or three meals.”

“If Peter did something that he enjoyed, that was pleasurable for him, he went all the way with it,” Hickey says. It was just another extension of his obsessive behavior. Women, food, alcohol, he had to have mass quantities. He dreaded running out of anything. He’s the only guy I know who could do two eight balls and eat 60 dollars of Chinese food.”

Whether a result of his unhealthy behavior or a symptom of his heart ailment, Steele was hospitalized on several occasions both at home and mid-tour. Even so, he rarely took care of himself and often put his sense of humor above his health.

“There was one point he was in the hospital overseas,” recalls Hickey. “He had had eight different surgeons trying to figure out what was wrong with him, and none of them spoke English. They’re saying, ‘What kind of drugs do you do?’ Pete says, ‘Cocaine, alcohol and redheads.’ So he’s sitting there in a hospital, half-green. The doctors come back in three days later and say, ‘Excuse me, we need to know… what are redheads?’ They thought it was a pill or a drug.”

On another occasion, Steele was hospitalized near his home, but didn’t stay long enough to be treated. “He calls me up and I go, “What are you doing out? What are you doing home?!?, You’re supposed to be in the hospital,” Kelly recalls. “And he says, “I couldn’t take the food anymore.’ He was only a third yellow at that point. It was a miracle. He went from being green in a bed to two and a half weeks later, we were on tour, and he was performing. Stuff like that was always happening with Peter.”

Loudwire contributor Jon Wiederhorn is the primary author of Louder Than Hell: The Definitive Oral History of Metal, as well as the co-author of Scott Ian’s autobiography, I’m the Man: The Story of That Guy From Anthrax, and Al Jourgensen’s autobiography, Ministry: The Lost Gospels According to Al Jourgensen.

#peter steele

#type o negative

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fuckyeahmichaeljackson · 5 years

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Michael Jackson once said he would slit his wrists before ever hurting a child. I believe him. Here’s a few examples of his humanitarianism:

In 1985, Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie wrote the song 'We Are The World’ together in order to combat poverty in the Third World. The record sold over ten million copies worldwide and raised $63 million+ for humanitarian aid in Africa and the US.

February 6th, 1988. ‘Man in The Mirror’ entered the pop charts. Jackson donated all of his royalties from the single to Camp Ronald McDonald for Good Times, a camp for children who have cancer.

December 1988. Jackson paid a visit to 12 year old David Rothenburg, later known as Dave Dave. who was hospitalised after being doused with kerosene and seriously burned by his father five years previously. Despite an estimated fifty operations, Rothenburg remained disfigured. The star paid for all necessary further operations. They remained friends and Dave Dave said Michael was like a father to him.

7 February, 1989. MJ visited the Cleveland Elementary School in Stockton, California. Three weeks earlier, a gunman had open fired 100 bullets in the school playground, killing five children and wounding 39 others before turning the gun on himself. Jackson spent time comforting the children and helping them to think positively again.

Eight-year-old Thahn Tran, who had lost his younger brother during the massacre, spoke about the effect MJ’s visit had on him: “I didn’t want to go back to school, but Michael made it all right again. If he goes there, it must be safe. Michael is my friend and I’m very glad.”

May 6th 1992. Michael paid the funeral costs for 9 year old Ramon Sanchez. Sanchez was killed by a stray bullet during the Rodney King riots in California and the boy’s parents could not afford to bury him.

November 25th, 1992. Michael granted the wish of young David Sonnet, who he met through the Make A Wish Foundation, an organisation that grants wishes to terminally ill children. Sonnet had suffered a brain aneurysm at the age of 8, leaving him unable to talk or walk. Jackson invited the boy and his mother to his Neverland home and later, his mother credited the singer’s music for helping her son to recover from a coma.

In December 1993, Jackson and his newly formed 'Heal the World Foundation' supported the UK’s 'Operation Christmas Child’ in airlifting over 100,000 gifts, toys, sweets, pictures and school items to needy children in Sarajevo.

1994. Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley met a four year-old boy in Budapest. Bela was diagnosed with a congenital liver disease that discolored his skin and prevented him from digesting food. Without a transplant, doctors gave him one year to live. The estimated cost for the transplant was $120, 000. MJ pledged funds from Heal the World, the charitable foundation he created in 1992 to cover all expenses related to Bela’s transplant. Bela is alive and well and says he cried like he lost a father when Michael died.

February 1995. MJ made a private request to attend the funeral of Craig Fleming, a two year old boy whose mother threw him over the side of a Los Angeles bridge along with his four year old brother before jumping to her death. The mother and four year old survived. Jackson contributed towards the surviving youngster’s medical expenses and founded a special trust fund for his ongoing care.

November 1, 1996. Michael Jackson donated most of the proceeds from his HIStory concert in (then) Bombay, India, to the poor. When travelling from the airport, he stopped the car several times to dance with, pick up and hug people on the streets.

Later this same month, he visited an orphanage and a school for blind children in Thailand. At the orphanage, he distributed toys and gifts to the children before leaving a donation of $100,000. An orphanage spokeswoman at the time said, “They don’t know him as a pop star. To them he is just a very nice man who came here to offer hope.”

_____

Michael was a humanitarian. He was just a good, kind, over trusting man. He just put his faith and trust in the wrong people.

There’s so much we don’t know because people are always coming forward of the kindness he gave them, but you can read some more of what he did here:

https://www.scribd.com/doc/14283749/Michael-Jackson-s-Humanitarian-Efforts-1979-2003

#michael jackson #humanitarian #i’m on the app so sorry if this didnt format right #edit: yep it didnt so i added the full stops to break the paragraphs up #damn tumblr

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elizabeth-234 · 5 years

Text

The Supplejack

Chapter Six: Not so Empty Classrooms

Previous: Chapter Five - The Beginning

Hi Friends! Hope your September is going well. Hope you enjoy!

The subway ride home passed in a blur. The car was crowded but Peter paid no mind to the man arguing with his three children to sit down in their seats or to the group of women that sat huddled at the other end of the car. He didn’t even bother putting in ear buds, which was one of the tools he used to survive in public space. The background sound allowed him to concentrate on something other than what was going on around him. A place like the subway, one that was filled with noise and people necessitated space from those external influences. Sometimes the lights would glare or someone would laugh to close to him and his head was left reeling. The music would let him distance himself from those sensations until he was back in a safe place.

That evening none of those distractions could bring him out of his thoughts and by routine alone he made his way back to the apartment. He didn’t bother to switch on the lights and as he walked through the rooms the floors creaked under his feet. His clothes were a weird mixture of damp and stiffly dried material and he threw them into the dirt laundry pile; a pile that looked remarkably similar to the clean pile right next to it.

Peter headed to the bathroom that he shared with May. He observed the way her bottles of skincare were stacked, teetering on the ledge behind the sink and how the toilet, sink, and shower were all on top of each other. At least it made cleaning easier.

He studied himself in the mirror, the top of which was milky from water permanently. The only thing saving him from taunts about his protruding ears was the mop of curly hair covering them. His eyes migrated from the peninsulas to his small frame. He was aware of how small he had been as a child but now it was increasingly obvious now that his classmates were going through growth spurts. Peter stared at his naked torso as one would look at a science dissection. The bit of fat was malleable under his fingers and he tried to flex the muscles there but saw no difference. The thirty-day abs challenge seemed like a good idea until he forgot about it until the last week.

He pinched it harder, observing the redness that spread out from his fingers. With a sigh he turned away rubbing the sore spot, and stepped into the shower. His hands shook as he went through his routine faster than normal. He never liked the way their landlord looked at May so he volunteered to go ask about the water problem. He had yet to gather the courage so for now they suffered through a cold shower.

The bed beckoned to him from the doorway but he resisted. Peter paused only to gather a blanket and crept out onto the fire escape. Once the warm cover was situated in the right spot over his shoulder and the corner sat folded in his lap as a perfect rest, he started tinkering with one of his receivers. The message in Morse code came loud and clear. He listened to the dits and dahs, and then transmitted his own message back. The sound of their conversation lulled Peter into a pleasant focus. He only looked up to watch the red colors of the sunset turn to the darkness of the night sky.

—

Peter quelled the urge to sigh into his hand again. He was sure that school had never been this long before and wished for nothing more than to be on his fire escape taking to Dave from Dayton on his Ham radio. It had been a perfect night. The frequencies were open and strong.

The classroom sat in tense silence while Mrs. Brzozowski waited with the patience of a saint for an answer. She turned to look directly at him with the expression that plainly said, “I know you know the answer”, and he felt cajoled into raising his hand. The smile she gave him when he correctly interpreted the meaning of Mary’s choice in book made his chest clench and a small smile appear on his face but it quickly faltered when he heard laughter behind him. He knew better than to look a see who laughed. Nothing would come from letting them know he heard and his head remained frozen frontward. The only thing making the day bearable from there on out was the knowledge he was going to the Tower after school.

A bundle of nerves formed in his stomach at the thought of going back. Although he got the confirmation and went through the orientation, the whole experience didn’t feel real yet. The seat he sat in at orientation never warmed under him and the building felt too pristine for him to frequent. He resolved himself to work hard and prove that he should be there. If he did that then no one could kick him out.

The bell rang and Peter went through the motions of a school day. The lunchroom doors stood in front of him and he moved to the side to allow the other students to file in. There was an apple in his bag but the thought of eating made him queasy. Instead of entering he followed the hallway down and turned into the bathroom. The seat was cold and the stall was quiet. Peter flushed the empty bowl and then let the water drip on his hands. He avoided looking in the mirror and wandered out of the bathroom.

He could go to the library but it was surprisingly busy during the day. The thought of facing anyone else made his empty stomach flip so he wandered the halls looking for an empty classroom. Somewhere he could relax for a moment before the bustling students took over. His eyes caught the sight of an open door and it was too tempting to pass up. Most of lunchtime was left, Peter was tired, and he didn’t want to walk around anymore. His eyes followed his feet dragging across the floor when someone coughed.

His eyes flicked upward as his body froze in place. Peter eased his arms in front of him and he pulled his legs together, aware that he was standing in the middle of the front of the classroom. The boy sat in the middle of the room with books and papers spread around him and Peter remembered they had been in a class together before. The boy’s dark hair was straight and hung down to his full cheeks. His eyes were furrowed and Peter wanted to leave before he interrupted even more.

“I’m sorry,” He said. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. I’ll get out of your way.”

“Peter, right?” Peter’s back tensed as he faced the door. He nodded but stayed where he was. “You can stay here. I only was working on some homework that I didn’t get done last night. That is if you want to?”

It was the hesitation in his voice that had Peter looking back and nodding. In slow steps he wound through the desks and took a seat two rows away from the boy. His backpack slouched on his lap and the straps wrinkled between his fingers. Should he talk to him? Or should he just mind his own business?

It turned out that he didn’t have to worry about making any decisions.

“I’m Ned. I think we’ve had a few classes together before.” Peter glanced up before studying the grains in the wood.

“Yeah, first term choir with Mr. Netterbocker?” Ned’s hand hit the desk and Peter barely suppressed a flinch.

“Dude, I thought he would kill that Sam girl if she chewed gum in class one more time.” Sam was someone in their grade who chewed gum everyday without fail to the irritation of their choir director. A smile stole across Peter’s face as he looked toward the boy, noticing that he was wearing a Star Wars shirt. He liked Star Wars.

“Sam,” Peter mimicked their teacher. “Let the sound out. You can’t do that with gum. Now round the O sounds.” He blushed when Ned laughed at his poor imitation.

“Exactly! He almost had an aneurysm when she coughed too hard at the concert and spit a piece out onto stage.” A giggle bubbled out of him and before he knew it the boys were laughing and pretending to trace the trajectory of the missile. Peter wiped the corner of his eye and smiled at Ned not noticing that the boy had moved a row closer while they talked.

“Not into the lunch room scene today?” Ned asked. The earnest curiosity in his tone compelled Peter to answer at least with part honesty. Peter played with the strap of his backpack.

“You could say that.”  

“Dude, you don’t have to be nice. The freshman suck, Flash especially.” Without thinking Peter looked up and stared at Ned who was back to reading the papers in front of him.  

“He’s not so bad.” Peter spoke quietly, afraid to show that he actually kind of liked Flash even though he was a bully, nervous Ned wouldn’t like him because he didn’t agree. Ned snorted without looking up.

“You’re too nice.” He wasn’t sure how to answer so he stayed silent. His fingers worked against a knot he somehow tied into the straps but it was too tight and he ended up bending his nail.

“Hey Peter.” Ned was standing by the door with his stuff put away. Lunch must already be over with. “Congrats by the way. On the contest. That must be so sick. Have you met Stark yet?” Peter hurried to the door while Ned waited.

“Um, yeah, I met him once.”

Ned’s eyes widened and questions tumbled out of his mouth, asking Peter what happened, what his house was like, and if Mr. Stark was super cool. Peter was overwhelmed but tried to answer in between the continuous inquiries. He wasn’t sure he got his thoughts correctly across and he didn’t want to gossip. Ned seemed nice enough but Peter felt… protective, for lack of a better word, about the time he spent with Mr. Stark.

On one hand, like the contest, he was sure it was real. He had physical papers and from them a lingering hope seeded in him. On the other hand he still didn’t understand what a man like Tony Stark was doing with someone like him. The trails that thought led were dark and overgrown so Peter shook his head. He was surprised to see that Ned continued to walk beside him and was telling Peter all these facts about Iron Man.

They stood at the corner of two hallways. Peter listened while Ned talked, admiring the way his arms moved in tandem with his words and how he didn’t have to keep an eye out for any people that passed them. His own eyes followed them until they were out of his line of sight and then he wished he could sense them when they were out of his sight.

The warning bell went off but Peter couldn’t bring himself to move. It was the first time he stood idly in the halls talking with someone. Peter felt the blush creep up his cheeks at the thought. He, Peter Parker, was chatting with Ned before class. Ned clapped him on the shoulder saying they should talk again before turning to go to class.

“Hey, Ned.” He called before the boy walked out of hearing and Peter scrunched his nose at the one girl who stared at him for being loud. “I, uh, I like your shirt.” Ned smiled and waved before turning the corner.

Peter leaned back against the lockers pondering what just happened. All he was looking for was a quiet place to hide and he came across, well, he wasn’t quiet sure. He hurried to class barely making it in time but couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face for the rest of the day.

—

The elevator buzzed around him as Peter rested his against the side. He was quiet, thinking about his interaction with Ned, before he remembered his manners.

“Hi Friday! How are you doing today?” He tilted his head up still not entirely sure where to look but figured the effort would be noted.

“I am doing well. Thank you for asking. And how are you doing today?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Um,” he said thinking about his day. “I’m not running late today, at least.”

“Yes, you seem to be perfectly punctual.” He hoped it was humor he heard in her voice.

“Are there, um, is anyone else from the program here today?”

It wasn’t that he was nervous. At least not yet, but there was this thin feeling permeating his bones. It had been a very long day so far and if there was no one there he could let himself get lost in the project for the afternoon.

“There are two members of the other group here, Peter. If you want I can show you to another lab and…”

“No! I mean, sorry for interrupting, but I don’t want to create more work for you. I just was curious.” His fingers tightened on the knot he made earlier and stepped off the elevator. “Thank you Friday. I, uh, thanks for talking to me.”

“It’s my pleasure, Peter.” He nodded and then went to find his way.

The doors opened without warning, he reminded himself to try and get used to that, and he saw the two members working at a table in the middle of the room. The two smiled as he passed but went right back to work. He let out a breath he had been holding when he found a table tucked away against one of the windows. The view of New York was one of his favorites and he took a second to appreciate where he was… and why. With his notebook and pen out he started working on his outline.

The hours went by and the next time Peter surfaced he couldn’t see the skyline anymore. The room was quiet and he was alone. His papers were scattered around him and he gathered them up, periodically glancing about the room as he did.

While there were never official hours mentioned, he had a feeling that he shouldn’t be here. He stuffed the papers into his backpack and made his way toward the exit. The hallway was light brightly compared to the room and Peter swallowed before turning down the hallway. He heard the clicking of shoes and pushed himself against the wall before realizing it wasn’t hiding him.

The doors in the hallway were all closed and he would have been even more nervous to wander in one that wasn’t meant for him. The clicking came closer and he resumed walking to the elevator, making sure his head was down. The door was open and there were a pair of shoes already present.

He raised his head without making eye contact and wished it were just him and Friday in the small room. The shoes were some type of heel and Peter was in awe of anyone who could walk in them, let alone take the confident strides he heard earlier. He switched his gaze to his own sneakers, noting the way the sides of the shoe spilt over the soles. His toes pressed against the brim but they were his favorite shoes and he didn’t want to get rid of them. Still, he couldn’t help the flare of shame that clawed its way in him at the comparison between footwear. This was a fancy lady and she shouldn’t have to share the elevator with him.

“Long day?” Her voice was solid but smooth and Peter was reminded of May when she was more serious. He glanced up and blushed. Pepper Potts was in the elevator with him.

It was a shock to many when Mr. Stark handed control of his company to her but the profit margins and successes following the transition were proof enough of her expertise. She was a formidable woman and Peter looked up to her almost as much as Mr. Stark.

“H-hi, I mean, hello. I mean, yes it has. Not that it was bad. I mean I got a lot of work done if that’s what you’re asking but it was long because of school and I’m sorry.” His head dropped a fraction while he clenched his hands around the knot. “How-how was your day, Mrs. Potts?”

“Same here. Work was long but it looks like we both had productive days.” Peter smiled, keeping his face forward. The elevator seemed to be going slower than normal and Peter wondered if Friday had something to do with it before passing the thought off.

“You can call me Pepper. Mrs. Potts sounds so stuffy. You were in the S.T.A.R.K. contest? The Weaver, right?”

He could have been hit by a train and swept away right there and then. How could he call her by her first name? It might be one of his odd tics but since he was young he always called adults with a title. It was polite and what May and Ben taught him. Not to mention that she remembered him. That could be a good thing but Peter was convinced it was because of his poor performance at the contest. The blush intensified and he nodded.

“Um, It’s Peter, Ms. Potts. Yes, I made the synthetic webs.”

“That’s what it was. I hope you are like it here.”

“Everyone has been beyond accommodating.” He said hoping that placated the searching stare he could feel on his face.

“Peter?” She asked, her voice softer than before. He looked over and was drawn in by the calming expression in her eyes. For some reason he had the errant thought of the day Ben and May took him to the ocean for the first time. It was overcast and the waves were crowned with white peaks. Peter held no fear in his tiny limbs and he ran straight for the water. As if it knew what Peter was seeking the waves calmed for a moment and let the little boy dip his hands in the water, leaving him room to turn to his watchers and show them the wet digits. Her eyes were the same color of the waves that day and Peter’s breathing slowed imperceptibly.

“If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask anyone. In fact,” she paused to open a portfolio binder and handed him a card. “Here is my number if you ever need anything.”

He inspected the card and when he looked up the elevator stopped. Ms. Potts was waiting with her hand stopping the door from closing so he could exit.

“That’s, um, thank you.” He said backtracking from rejecting the number at her firm look. The lobby was empty and Peter offered to walk her out to her car. He should have known she had a driver waiting for her out front. His fingers curled around the handle as he opened the door for her. She thanked him and complemented his manners, which brought another bout of blush to his face.

“Do you need a ride home, Peter? We can take you.”

“No,” He said quickly and then continued firmly. “It’s okay, Ms. Potts. Thank you though. I can get home just fine. Thank you, again.”

She insisted once more but Peter was resolute. They said goodbye and he was left standing on the steps alone. Summer was just around the corner but the spring breeze cut through his thin jacket. He wrapped it around his shoulders tighter before walking down the steps.

At the base of the stairs he turned back to take in the building once more. The structure truly was a marvel and he tried to convince himself he could see the window he looked out of before. He popped his ear buds in and started home. It seemed like a million years since yesterdays subway ride. Peter’s eyes were heavy as the car chugged along and he stared out the window with blurry vision watching the people waiting at their own stops. It had indeed been a long day but a small smile traced Peter’s face as he thought about it.

Thank you!! :)

Chapter Seven: Friday, Friends, and Jet Rockets

#the supplejack #eliza writes #my writing #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #marvel fanfiction #marvel #irondad spiderson fanfiction #fanfiction #new chapter #writing #AO3 fanfic #pepper potts #ned leeds

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raendown · 5 years

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Chapter: 7/18 Word count: 1675 Summary: When Tobirama is exiled from the Senju clan without warning, without even the chance to plead his case, it feels like his life is over. What does he have to live for now without his older brother to believe in him? Captured by the Uchiha in his moment of weakness, Tobirama slowly learns to live again with the last people on earth he would have ever expected to care for - or to fall in love with.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI in the blog header!

Chapter 7

Tobirama woke to the sound of metal crashing against hardwood, the hallow thang of an empty pot hitting what must have been the kitchen floor. A glance at the window showed him that the afternoon had passed him by as he slept and evening was falling rapidly. It was dinner hour.

He was late for his duties.

So far his captors had yet to find a reason to punish him for anything. He completed every task given to him with minimal complaints and he did them all correctly the first time, not seeing a need to make things harder for himself. Bare feet rushed across the carpet as he scrambled for the door and hurried towards the other end of the house where the kitchen and the dining area had been built as one large room. If it hadn’t happened yet then he certainly didn’t want to give them a reason to start doling out punishments now.

Upon entering the room, however, he was flabbergasted to see Izuna brandishing a dripping ladle at his older brother, hunched protectively over their biggest stew pot. All the dishes were still dirty in the sink and more had been piled on top of them from chopping and preparing whatever had been dropped in to the stew – which, he realized now that he was standing still, was giving off an absolutely heavenly scent.

Madara was the one to notice him first when he turned away from the stove with a pout.

“Oh good, I was just about to come wake you. Dinner’s ready.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one who makes dinner?” Tobirama asked hesitantly, edging in to the room with a certain amount of caution. What was the point of a worker who didn’t do their work? Madara shrugged carelessly and passed him a bowl.

“Izuna likes to cook when he’s stressed.”

Too taken aback to respond, Tobirama accepted the bowl and then stood there like a simpleton just watching the two of them dish out some very hearty looking stew. Far be it from him to complain about someone else doing his work for him but he wasn’t sure if he was suspicious or just bewildered about what just happened. His role here amounted to little more than a slave even if the work wasn’t really all that hard and it struck him as very odd for one of the men keeping him to do any task they should have asked him to do instead. In his mind that couldn’t spell anything good.

When the siblings finally noticed that he was still hovering in the same spot with a glazed look on his face they both chuckled and Madara stepped around to push him gently towards the stove, ladling a generous portion of food in to his bowl and then steering him over to the table. Usually he ate alone after cleaning up from cooking dinner and washing the dishes they left behind. He’d never even tried to join them at the table before, naturally assuming he wouldn’t be allowed.

It was nothing less than surreal to chew on a bit of carrot and listen to Izuna yammer on about some other member of their clan who was being particularly difficult lately, constantly bothering him with questions he had already answered several times. Tobirama was so lost in the strangeness of it all that he didn’t even realize he was speaking out loud until the other two men paused to look over at him.

“Hashirama does the same thing. It’s incredibly annoying.”

Both of them stared for a moment until Madara burst out laughing.

“Sounds like him,” he agreed. “But I bet he at least gives up eventually. Not Tetsuo!” Izuna groaned and let his shoulders slump, exhausted just by the reminder of what he had suffered all day.

“I’m tempted to just tell him what he wants to hear and watch him go make a fool of himself with the wrong information.”

“Please, please do it. And let me watch.” Madara grinned, an echo of the manic grin he often wore when he was enjoying a particularly thrilling battle.

“The twilight zone,” Tobirama murmured under his breath. “I’ve entered the twilight zone. I’m going to wake up to a foot in my stomach and a list of more chores to do.” That sounded much more likely than what these two would have him accept as reality.

Either they didn’t hear him or they thought it would be funnier to pretend they hadn’t. They chatted as easily as though they weren’t sitting next to anyone who had the capability and motive to stab one of them with any of the sharp objects that lay within arm’s reach. He tried but he couldn’t think of a single thing that would be any weirder than this. Eventually the tension in his shoulders grew to the point where he was forced to speak up even though he realized it was a supremely bad idea, looking a gift horse in the mouth like he was about to.

“Is it normal for you to eat calmly at the same table as your prisoners?” Confusion shaded his words and softened them until he sounded less upset and more like a whining child. He watched Izuna and Madara share a long look before the elder turned to him with – of all things – a smile.

“You fell asleep across the room from me and slept away half the day like a little kid. Do you really have room to talk?”

Tobirama frowned, his insides squirming. “If I am tired then it is your fault.”

“For what? Asking you to do light housework? Geez, would you loosen up a little? We can’t all be as uptight as you are all the time; some of us like to relax when we’re at home.”

“Well some of us can’t go home so excuse me for not being able to enjoy myself.” His eyes narrowed but Madara only rolled his own.

“So make a new home somewhere else. If they’re being stupid then let them.”

“It’s hardly that simple!”

Deeply offended by the marginalization of his plight, Tobirama shoved his chair back and snatched up his empty bowl, deliberately not taking theirs. He brought his to the sink and dropped it in with a loud clatter of ceramic then stormed off through the house until he was banging through the back door. Very likely he would pay later for having such attitude but at the moment he didn’t care, at the moment he was full of a special kind of fury that in no way tasted like anger.

Soft grass crushed underfoot as he paced circles around the circumference of the backyard, restless and agitated and unsure why beyond the fact that Madara’s words had scraped at a wound he’d thought was finally beginning to scab over. He didn’t want to make a new home somewhere else, he wanted to go back to the home he’d always known and loved. He wanted to be welcome in his own house by his own brother. Not to start again kami only knew where.

And who the hell was he supposed to call family if all of his kin were snug and safe back in the Senju compound where he could never return to?

Eventually he realized that pacing circles was only making himself worse and he came to rest by flopping down at the edge of the koi pond with no actual koi fish in it. He was fairly certain Madara only kept the pond as a place to dunk Izuna’s head whenever they started bickering over something and it didn’t look like he would get an easy win. It was a good solution for someone who couldn’t use a suiton jutsu unless they copied it with their Sharingan. And even then Madara’s suiton jutsu tended to be much weaker than the ones that aligned with his natural affinity.

Since he was bare foot anyway, his sandals still neatly piled by the front door, Tobirama dipped his toes in to the water and let his own element sooth him. He would have loved to slip his body in to the pond and just float for hours on end, let the water fill his ears and muffle the world around him, drift in weightless suspension until nothing existed but the cool waves lapping over his skin. When he wasn’t so worked up he would have to ask if he might be allowed to swim here in his off hours – if he was still allowed off hours after showing such blatant disrespect.

Leaning back on his palms, Tobirama tilted his head back to look up at the rising moon.

“It’s not so bad here, Anija,” he spoke softly to the empty yard. “It’s almost nice actually. But…I don’t want it to be.”

And therein lay the problem. With each day that passed he grew more and more comfortable here but he didn’t want to; he wanted to be comfortable in his real home. Sitting here now with his feet in Madara’s pond and two shouldn’t-be-so familiar chakra signatures burning calmly a couple dozen feet away, he realized that he was eventually going to have to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t have what he wanted. The world was going to keep turning even if he wasn’t ready. In all other facets of life he had always been able to pick himself up and keep going no matter what and he was going to have to do the same now.

On the other hand he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to get too comfortable where he was now. He was a prisoner, a captive put to work. At a moment’s notice he could be turned out of the compound or thrown back in his cell. Unless the Uchiha brothers suddenly experienced dual aneurysms and invited him to live with them out of the goodness of their hearts it probably wasn’t smart to get too attached to anything here.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #izuna #fanfiction

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