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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Paging Healer Malfoy // Chapter Three - How To Save A Life (D.M.)

A/N: CHAPTER THREE! This is a loaded chapter. We see a lot of Draco’s centre as a Healer through this; we see just how his job affects him. So there’s a lot in this. This, so far, is my favourite chapter and I know I say that about everything I write, but I am so ridiculously happy with how this has turned out. So please, if you read, like/reblog/comment - let me know what you think whether it’s just a keyboard smash or a whole essay, I eat that stuff for breakfast, dinner, tea.

Summary: A promise Draco made to himself when he first became a Healer is broken - smashed to pieces in front of him, and he doesn't think he can fix it.

Warnings: angst, death, grief, a large time skip - looking at months, arguments, feelings, crying.

Word count: 4.3k

Prologue// Chapter One// Chapter Two

January gets off to an interesting start. It always does when Draco works the New Year’s shift; drunk witches and wizards entering the emergency room with alcohol poisoning or injuries they have no recollection of getting. (Y/N) had covered Christmas Day so he could spend it with his family, as per demanded by Narcissa, but he had covered Boxing Day and New Year’s to repay for that favour. He doesn’t mind it either; he would rather be working than sitting in his empty flat with nothing but his insomnia to keep him company.

Draco has always liked January; the idea of new beginnings sits with him, offering him the opportunity to start again from scratch and build himself up.

His New Year’s Resolution for this year is for him to finally be honest with (Y/N) about his feelings.

-------

January always brings with it the coldest weather despite the knowledge that spring is just around the corner. It brings with it red noses, warm scarves, and dragon’s breath.

He stands with Vera at the admit desk; going through their latest stock intake and what they would need to order more of if the flu season should continue well into February.

“Is that my favourite Healer?” A feminine voice sings out from behind them.

Draco spins around; a smile already crossing his face, “Violet! What are you doing here? Is isn’t a dialysis day?”

She shakes her head; holding up the pager she has carried with her since she was nineteen years of age, “I was sitting down to breakfast and this went off.”

Draco’s eyes grow wide, “It went off?”

Violet nods rapidly, “It went off, so I pushed my breakfast away, grabbed my suitcase and rang Jonathan from the tube.”

Draco claps his hands together in delight, “That’s great news. Did they say you were to get prepped down here?”

She nods, “A Dean Thomas rang me as I was on my way here. Told me to get the initial tests done here and then he’ll come fetch me when the kidney has arrived.”

Draco makes his way around the desk; holding out a hand for her to shake, “I’m so happy for you, Violet.”

“Thank you, Draco.”

He leads Violet into an empty exam room; making sure that there would be no-one to bother her as she waits for the green light to be taken upstairs.

“How are you feeling?” Draco asks quietly; calculating Violet’s blood pressure.

Violet releases a long sigh of relief, “Happy. Scared. Relieved. Nervous.”

Draco laughs, “That’s a lot for one person to be feeling.”

She smiles; eyes shining with unshed tears, “We’ve just been waiting for so long.”

And she has. Draco had treated her all those years ago when she was rushed in by her then-boyfriend Jonathan. Violet had been feeling ill for over a month; it had started with shortness of breath, and then she started losing weight but retaining water in her ankles and feet leaving them swollen as well as complaining about blood in her urine.

Having had enough, Jonathan rushed her to St. Mungo’s where Draco saw her and diagnosed her with kidney failure. She hadn’t even known she had kidney disease; feeling well enough to continue her active lifestyle and her work as a teacher.

From there, Draco had placed her on the transplant list – desperate for a match for a nineteen year old who still had her whole life to live. She hadn’t been out of Hogwarts a year; still very much a Ravenclaw through and through. After that, Draco had her assigned to dialysis which was where he saw her so often that a friendship struck up between him, her and Jonathan.

Draco finishes his examination of Violet; sending off samples of her blood to the lab to be checked for anything he hadn’t picked up. He smiles down at her, “I think you’re getting a new kidney today.”

The smile that breaks out across Violet’s face is blinding; pure happiness personified as if the very sun was sitting in this very exam room.

“Have you told Jonathan?”

Violet nods; her curls bouncing with the movement of her head, “He’s on his way. I think he’s more excited than I am.”

Draco laughs, “I can believe it. Alright, I’ll let you get settled whilst I go ring surgery and see how long it’s going to take.”

Violet smiles, and Draco briefly wonders whether her cheeks already hurt from the happiness shown on her face. “I’ll be back to see you soon,” He says as goodbye; heading straight for the nearest phone to pester Dean Thomas.

(Y/N) joins him at the admit desk a short while after Draco has left Violet.

“Will Dean be coming down to get her himself?,” A pause, “Thank you, Shirley,” Draco answers, putting down the phone.

“I see Violet is finally getting her transplant.”

Draco smiles; eyes flashing towards Violet in exam room four, “She’s been on the waiting list for over three years.”

“You’re happy for her?”

“I was the one to diagnose the kidney failure. She has been through numerous false alarms; the false hope of getting a kidney to find out its been donated elsewhere. I have sat with her through her dialysis when her fiancée couldn’t make it because of work. Yes, you could say I am happy for her.”

“You seem to have struck up quite a friendship,” She comments lightly; reading over an old chart.

Draco rolls his eyes, “It’s hard not when I see her so often and I’m her primary physician.”

(Y/N) sighs; not missing the undercurrent of warning in Draco’s tone, “Well I wish her all the best.”

---------

Dean Thomas had trained with Draco, but rather than continuing in the emergency room, Dean had chosen to go into surgery. He had done well for himself; he had quickly risen through the ranks on the surgical floor, having a knack for putting people back together again.

Arriving in the emergency room, Dean greets Draco with a large smile and a handshake, “It’s been too long, Malfoy. When are you next coming out with the lads?”

Draco laughs, “When Weasley can admit he can’t handle his firewhisky.”

“So never then?”

Both men laugh. Thinking back to the same night where Ron had gotten so drunk on the stuff that he performed his and Hermione’s song outside their window at nearing three in the morning. Other than disturbing the nightlife of urban London, Ron had woken up a very sleep-deprived Hermione.

Dean shakes his head; still chuckling, “How’s our patient?”

Draco smiles, “Brilliant. The perfect candidate; all her tests came back with no signs of trouble.”

Dean rubs his hands together, “That’s what I like to hear. Where is she?”

“Exam room four. I’ll take you there now.”

In the time that Draco has made his phone calls and seen other patients, Violet’s fiancée, Jonathan has arrived with a bouquet of pale pink roses, it seems. He stands upon the entrance of Dean and Draco but does not let his hand leave Violet’s. He smiles at both of them, “Draco, Healer Thomas – this is it, huh?”

Dean nods; smiling, “This is it,” He looks towards Violet, “How are we feeling? Are you ready?”

Violet nods once; firm, decided, “I’m ready.”

-----

Dean helps the porters move Violet to the surgical floor; Jonathan following with his bouquet of pale pink roses, whispering words of luck quietly. It’s a touching sight to see; the love they feel for each other written so clearly over their faces.

Draco knows (Y/N) joins him to watch them take Violet up; it’s hard to ignore her presence, the usual scent of lilies and citrus wafting over him, sending his heart racing.

“She’ll be okay, Draco,” (Y/N) murmurs; her eyes on the couple waiting to get into the lift.

Draco nods; turning to face (Y/N), “I know she will.”

(Y/N) reaches out to poke his cheek, “Then look like you believe it.”

Draco catches her finger with his hand; holding onto it for a minute, “I do believe it.”

Something passes over (Y/N)’s face that Draco can’t define; he drops her finger, clearing his throat at the strange atmosphere that has settled over them. “How busy are you today?” He asks, in the hopes of dispelling the awkward fog between them.

(Y/N) shakes her head as if coming out of a trance, “Not overly. Four patients so far and a capable trainee not demanding my attention every minute. Why do you ask?”

Draco shrugs, “Wanted to see if you would be free for lunch in an hour or two.”

(Y/N) smiles, “I’ll make time for you, Draco.”

Draco places a hand on his heart, “Then I should be so grateful as to buy the lunch.”

(Y/N) grins wickedly, “If you’re paying then I’m definitely making time.”

Draco gasps and (Y/N) starts to laugh in earnest; covering her mouth as she snorts. She shakes her head, laughing fit subsiding, “Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab some food.”

He smiles at her, “Sounds like a plan.”

(Y/N) touches his shoulder, her fingers lingering, before leaving; needing to see patients and catch up on charts as well as keeping an eye on her trainee. A simple touch and it sends Draco’s heart rate through the roof; such a gentle touch but one that felt like it held so much promise. It had lingered slightly, and Draco wondered whether that was how lovers touched each other when saying goodbye. Either way, he so desperately wanted to know. He thinks back to his New Year’s Resolution; beginning to think that just maybe it’s time to tell the truth.

Draco shakes his head at the plan starting to form in his head; of questions and answers, of dimly lit restaurants and kisses against front doors. With a yearning filled sigh, he goes in search of a trainee, needing a distraction from his wandering mind.

Jude Prewett had proved herself highly independent within her first week of working in the emergency room; having hailed from a long line of Healers, she understood the role she played, but also lived with a huge weight on her shoulders in trying to fill shoes that had been worn so many times before.

Draco finds her with a patient; gathering their history before asking any further questions for their visiting St. Mungo’s today.

She startles slightly at his presence in the room, but soon settles quickly. “What do we have, Healer Prewett?”

“Jonah Ashford, 67 years old. He complains of shortness of breath upon initial examination.”

Draco nods; happy so far, “What have you gathered from his history?”

Jude raises an eyebrow, but nevertheless, continues, “Mr. Ashford has a history of asthma along with brief spells of dizziness that come on suddenly. These spells tend to last fifteen minutes each time and come and go when they please.”

Draco leans against the wall; happy to let Jude continue, “What are you thinking first?”

“He isn’t having an asthma attack though he does need a refill of his medication which I will give him a prescription for. I am concerned about the dizziness and how often it comes on.”

Draco looks towards the patient, “When was your last dizzy spell, Mr. Ashford?”

Mr. Ashford frowns; thinking back, “Last night.”

Draco nods, “Are you getting enough to eat and drink?”

Mr. Ashford looks down, “I try, but I find it hard to remember. My wife, Lacey, used to cook and clean. I lost her last year, and it’s been hard to find a routine when everything reminds me of her.”

Both Draco and Jude nod understandingly; both sad at Mr. Ashford’s story though it’s something they see often. Widows who simply desire company; who can no longer sit in their empty houses and watch time tick by.

“Have you got this?” Draco asks Jude. She nods; eyebrows furrowed as if to say she had this before he interrupted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ashford,” Draco hears Jude say, “I won’t be a moment.”

Draco pauses outside the exam room; letting Jude catch-up to him. “Healer Malfoy?” She asks.

“Yes, Jude?”

“Is it just me you’re checking in on?” Jude asks; concern lacing her voice.

Draco shakes his head with a smile, “I check in on everyone. I’m checking on Healer Shannon after this. Don’t worry, Jude. You’re doing well.”

Jude relaxes and smiles; relief now evident in her tone, “Alright. Thanks, Healer Malfoy.”

Draco laughs, “It’s fine, Jude. Go,” He nods towards Mr. Ashford, “Continue with your patient.”

Making his rounds of the floor, Draco is relieved to see that the trainees are more than content to work with supervision from their assigned attendings. No complaints from either parties which makes Draco’s life a little easier when it comes to the reviews in just a couple of weeks.

He starts to collect patients to keep his mind off ringing the surgical floor immediately. He rings once, and they update him – Violet has just gone in, it looks to be going to fine, and then he makes himself wait to ring again.

“Draco,” Her voice sings; pulling him from his daydreaming as he sits at the admit desk.

He checks his watch, then checks the clock hung on the wall, “Is it that time already?”

(Y/N) nods; a large smile on her face, “And I do believe you said you would pay.”

He pats his pocket, checking for his wallet, “I do believe I said that. Come on then, let’s go eat.”

She hooks her arm through his. Draco has to resist the urge to pull her in further; to kiss her senseless. “I’m fancying chips, what about you?” She asks; ripping him from his yearning.

He shrugs, “I’ll have to have a look when we get there.”

She frowns, “Are you still worried?”

Draco shakes his head, “No. I’m not,” Then he smiles, “But I am hungry, so hurry your butt up, will you?”

(Y/N) snorts but fastens her pace, nonetheless.

--------

After the third time, Draco rang the surgical floor, they refused to accept any calls from him. Instead, ghosting his calls in order to annoy him further. Draco hadn’t worried; not through lunch with (Y/N) and not as he continues to see patients.

Draco can’t help but continue to glance at the clock; it has been well over the allotted time to complete a kidney transplant. Worry now settles deep within Draco’s gut, but he tries to remain positive as he flits about the emergency room; taking on as many cases as possible in order to keep the worry at bay.

It’s when he sees Dean get off the lift that Draco has any idea what’s happened. Dean looks tired and beaten down; as if all the fight has left him through the last few hours. With a nod of his head, Dean gestures to an empty exam room for Draco to join him in.

Taking a deep breath, Draco steels himself for what he’s about to hear. He knew Dean’s tactics from training and from seeing him work on the surgical floor; he would never let anyone else deliver the news of a patient to friends and family.

From the expression on Dean’s face, it doesn’t look to be good news, “Draco, I’m sorry.”

Draco nods; sadness settling like a boulder in his gut, “What happened?”

Dean looks reluctant to say, but he sighs and replies, “Cardiac arrest two hours in. We tried for half an hour to bring her back.”

All his life, Draco had seen signs that witches and wizards were not immortal – he had survived a devastating war; he worked in a profession where death stalked the halls like a hunter finding its prey. And yet, he had hope for Violet. He had hope that the transplant would be a success and she would go on to live a long and healthier life with her fiancée.

In the span of a single surgery; the hope had been crushed by the skeletal hands of the reaper that wanders the halls of the hospital, collecting souls.

Dean claps Draco on the shoulder in what is supposed to be an offer of comfort, but it does little to quash the growing sense of loss Draco feels.

“If you need anything,” Dean starts in kindness before giving up and saying, “I knew you two had a friendship.”

Draco nods silently; watching Dean had for the stairs. Throughout his career, Draco had never let himself get close to a patient. Sure, there were those who he saw regularly. The frequent flyers, the pain potion seekers, Mrs Larkin – a widow who needed company more than she needed medical treatment. However, Violet came in so frequently for dialysis that it felt almost inevitable they would end up on friendly terms.

Draco rubs a hand down his face; feeling almost devastated at this loss of such a young life.

Needing to be alone – if only for a moment – Draco enters the break room, taking calming breaths. He feels ridiculous; letting a patient’s death affect him this much when he had been at the deathbed for so many – young, old, infant.

He’s so caught up in his emotions, he doesn’t hear the door open. Draco startles slightly at the sound of her voice calling his name.

“I heard what happened,” She murmurs comfortingly – her hand outstretched as if to offer support.

Draco clears his throat; dislodging the lump that has taken root there, “Yes. It’s a sad loss.”

“Are you okay though? I know that you two were close.”

Draco looks down to the chart in his hands; a patient still needing to be seen. He smiles humourlessly, “It’s always sad to lose a patient, no matter how long you’ve been doing this.”

(Y/N) frowns, “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

Draco throws his arms wide; emotions bubbling to the surface, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She throws her hands up in surrender. Her voice is laced with frustration as she answers, “Fine. Keep it bottled up.”

(Y/N) slams the door as she leaves the break room; making her anger known. Draco, for a brief moment, loses his temper, sending his fist into the door of his locker. It does a little to curb the wave of grief submerging him, but the wave doesn’t ebb. Draco rests his head against the cool, gunmetal grey door of his locker, taking in deep breaths.

He gives himself a minute.

One minute. That’s all he gets to feel it all; to let the loss consume him. To feel the guilt and the sadness.

The minute passes and Draco stands straight. He pushes his hair back from his face and straightens his lab coat.

Clearing his throat, Draco leaves the break room, needing to continue working.

-------

It’s hard to miss the pitying look from the nurses as Draco continues to work; as if the entire floor has decided to walk on eggshells around him.

He continues to work because he needs to; he has no grounds to leave work – it wasn’t a family member he had lost; it was a patient. That was how he was rationalising it in his head. It was just that Violet had been his patient for three years; seeing her so frequently.

Draco shakes his head; ridding himself of the dark thoughts that threaten to break through.

He continues to work because that’s who he is. Through Draco’s adolescence, he found himself being defined by what others thought of him and his family. He was bending to a self-fulfilling prophecy that he didn’t want thrust upon him.

Through his first week as a trainee Healer, Draco found himself redefining every aspect of himself. He did not have to present the hard, touch exterior that his family and fellow students expected of him at Hogwarts. Rather, Draco found himself to be someone who could be soft; who could laugh and joke with the best of them. He found himself to be someone who wanted to help people in their time of need; in their most vulnerable state when all they need is someone to trust and someone to listen.

As he takes on more and more patients, it’s because he needs to work. He has to work through this; he doesn’t often show how death affects him so, but on some level, he had known Violet. He just didn’t expect her death so soon.

Focusing intently on the charts in his hand, Draco blinks away the tears threatening to fall. With a deep breath and a fake smile, he enters exam room two, ready to meet another patient.

--------

Violet’s fiancée, Jonathan, approaches him a few hours after her death. His face is tear stained and puffy as he clears his throat to gain Draco’s attention from a conversation with Nurse Janice.

“Jonathan,” Draco greets, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jonathan nods wordlessly; blinking fast to get ready of the already building tears. He clears his throat again, “I just,” He takes a deep breath, “I just came down to thank you.”

“For what?” Draco asks; confused.

Jonathan lets his tears fall, saying, “For sitting with her when the dialysis was draining her, and for helping her laugh. For keeping her company when I couldn’t be there because of work.”

A lump forms in Draco’s throat, “That isn’t something you have to thank me for.”

Jonathan shrugs, “Regardless, thank you.” He turns to walk away but he pauses at the last minute, “Would you come to the memorial? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I think it would mean to a lot to her family if they met you.”

Draco nods; not even second-guessing his answer, “Of course. Let me know the details and I’ll get it off work.”

Jonathan nods; his face puffier than before from the freshly fallen tears. He holds his hand up in a wave before leaving St. Mungo’s.

-----

How Draco makes his way home is beyond him. He works the rest of his shift in a stupor; the all too familiar heaviness of grief settling over him for which he feels foolish and ridiculous.

He doesn’t feel the rain that soaks him through to the bone. He doesn’t remember entering his flat; doesn’t remember shedding his coat, letting his bag fall to the floor. Sitting on the couch, Draco submits to the grief. He submits to overwhelming sense of loss battering his walls; demanding to be felt.

On the inside, Draco is a storm; raging, raging, raging.

On the outside, he’s as calm as anything, staring at the mantle piece as he lets himself finally feel.

---------

Draco’s building was one of the many converted mills in London; brown bricked and grand, it stood proudly on its street, wearing its history like a badge of honour. His flat is on the fifth floor; one of the largest in the building – a gift from his parents after completing his training with high honours. He had lived there ever since, and (Y/N) had visited often over the years of their friendship.

(Y/N) knocks three times, calling his name with each one before she tries the door.

Entering his flat, (Y/N) always takes a moment to admire the pictures that line the wall. Admiring the beauty of Draco’s mother, and almost flinching at the imposing figure his father presents.

This time, however, she marches straight past them, calling Draco’s name for him not to reply. She only knew to come over here when he hadn’t met her to catch the tube together like they usually did when their shifts coincided. The words she flung at him earlier, she hadn’t meant. They had settled in her bones with an uncomfortable feeling; leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Truthfully, she had been worried about Draco since the news of Violet’s death had made its way to her ears; the gossip chain of the emergency room never one to falter.

She finds Draco on his couch; still wearing the clothes he left work in. Dropping her bag and shrugging off her coat, (Y/N) takes a seat next to Draco on the couch. He barely registers her presence; barely even blinking at the change of weight. She tries not to let it hurt her, but it does. Seeing him like this… it was something she hadn’t ever seen before.

Draco always presented himself as collected. The most dishevelled he ever got was whenever he worked nights and for most of the week, he would sport stubble. However, that was always gone by the time he came back onto day.

This was something new, though. His grief wasn’t anything she had encountered, and though they spoke often and told each other they cared for one another, they had never truly spoken about the feelings between them.

She coaxes his head onto her shoulder, and it’s there that Draco lets the first of his tears fall and the first of his sobs escape his chest.

He has seen death. He’s courted it for years – through the war, through his job. He has had patients die om him and had mourned each of their deaths, but he had never felt loss this keenly before. He felt scrubbed raw from the inside out.

He doesn’t know how long he cries for; he doesn’t know how long she holds him for but somewhere in between in it all, he manages to choke out his thanks which she hurriedly hushes. Her response being to hold onto him tighter.

Time passes, and his sobs start to slow, but they do not let go of the other, needing their anchors more than anything in this moment. In the pain of it all, Draco finds solace in sleep.

**********

Paging Healer Malfoy taglist: @sycathorn-slush @obsessedwithrandomthings @kpopgirlbtssvt @kalimagik @brycelahelalover @fallinallinmendes @mischi3f-manag3d @remmysrecs @willowbleedsonpaper @nao-cchi @haphazardhufflepuff @soundsquid27 @mytreec @maydillydally @chaoticgirl04 @pregnant-piggy @rhyxn @acciotwinz @birdie-writes @reaganwonders @chanelwonders @izzytheninja @ravenclawbitch426 @ohissandhalasta @missmulti @nebulablakemurphy @pointlesscoconut @cherrylita @harpersmariano @slytherinlovesgryffindor

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @reaganwonders @sophia-gwendolyn

***if your username is in bold, I was unable to tag you.

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jungkookiebus · 4 years

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At Death’s Edge pt. 1 | jjk

Genre: supernatural x angst x future fluff Pairing: Death!jungkook x OC Word Count: 1.8k Rating: PG-13 Warnings: mentions of death Summary: Jungkook walks the path of the dead, holding in his hand those that have passed, ushering them towards the clearing. Along the path, hidden in the darkness of the trees, souls that refused to walk with him hide in the shadows. When he hears the cries of a girl, he tries to coax her onto the path, but when she doesn’t oblige he moves one. What Jungkook doesn’t know is that the girl is about to change his entire viewpoint on life and death. Author’s Note: I plan for this to be very angsty and sad so don’t expect a good ending with this one, folks. Also, this will be my first OC, non-reader insert, story so please don’t hate it lol.

Death had a beauty all its own, but rarely did someone see it that way. Many wanted to live in the present, gaze upon what the earth had to offer, feel the warmth of a lover’s touch, and bask in the rain on a warm afternoon. Death was not cold or unkind as it was made out to be. As a matter of fact, death was all around. When a flower died, it returned to the earth, and fertilized the soil for the next one. A man died in a car accident but donated his heart to a mom whose five month old will now grow up with its mother. When something died, Jungkook was always there to help it pass along. With a soft touch and a warm smile, he helped those that were afraid and those who were ready to leave.

“Where are we going?” A small boy, maybe six or seven, was holding Jungkook’s hand as they walked down a wooded path.

“To an exciting place.” Jungkook’s eyes scanned the woods. On the path, the sun shone brightly, but those who did not want to pass, stayed in the shadows of the boughs. Rarely did they ever try to venture onto the path. He looked down at the boy now who, in turn, swiveled his head upwards to look at him. He had a head full of shocking red hair and a generous amount of freckles across his nose.

“Mom said it’s not safe to leave with strangers.” Concern crossed the little boy’s face.

“Your mom is very smart.” Jungkook’s smile was warm. He wanted to keep the boy happy and possibly veer him off the topic of his mother. Children always tended to cry when they remembered they were away from their parents. How do you explain to a child that they will never see their parents again? At least, not for some time. But, when children started to cry, the shadows moved closer to the edge of the trees.

A white mist began to form around the boy, an iridescent glow that the dead took on the closer they got to the edge. Ahead, the sun shone down into a clearing.

“Are we going to play?” The boy’s eyes shone with a joy that Jungkook only ever saw in children, or the elderly at the thought of seeing a passed loved one.

“Yes, we can play whatever you want.” The boy smiled so brightly that Jungkook felt a quick jolt of sorrow through his heart. It was heartbreaking when children passed on, but he was the right person for this. His demeanor was always that of comfort and most passed on with no problem. There were others, though, those that lurked in the woods.

“Is there a ball there? My dad is teaching me how to pitch.” He squeezed Jungkook’s hand and he already felt it growing cold. The boy couldn’t see death like Jungkook could. He couldn’t see that he was fading and that his soul was dissipating into the afterlife even as they walked.

“I’m sure we’ll find something at the edge.”

The path ahead of them widened and Jungkook saw the clearing a little better. White mist always seemed to hang in the clearing. Those were beings that always stayed at the edge, ready to help new souls pass on.

“Are you ready?” Jungkook asked as they approached. The boy was almost gone now, but he could still see his smile.

“Yes! I’m ready!” His voice echoed as if he were in the woods, far away from him and with that, the boy ran ahead and Jungkook let his hand slip from his. He didn’t drop his as he watched the tendrils of white mist rise from his fingers after the boy. Almost as if running into a heavy fog, the boy disappeared, passed on from this world.

Jungkook brought his hand to his face and watched as the last remaining wisps of the boy slid from his fingers and into the clearing.

“Goodbye, little one,” he said softly.

He turned away from the clearing and silence fell around him. The mist at the edge was always quiet. It had the same strange quality of being alone in the middle of a heavy snow. It was all at once beautiful, but with something at the edges, dark and sinister. Sometimes, the shadows in the trees whispered. They always tried to get Jungkook to walk beyond the tree line, but he knew better. Even as a bearer of death, there were places he did not like to venture. Of course, there was always a chance of a soul being redeemed, but they would then be able to break free of the dark woods themselves. Jungkook always waited on the path with an extended hand and a smile, ready to walk them into the clearing.

His footsteps barely made a sound on the soft dirt as he made his way back. There was still probably so much for him to do. He stuck to the middle of the path, ignoring the whispers coming from the trees. If he looked hard enough, he’d be able to make out figures as they shifted and moved among one another. It bothered him when souls refused to move on, as if he had done something wrong.

He was almost clear of the path when he heard the soft crying. It was close to the edge of the trees so that meant this soul was new. The longer they stayed, the harder it was for them to get back to the path. He stopped, listening, after the whispers had taken over again. The cries came again, but they were soft and to his left. His gaze averted to the darkness beneath them but did not see anything. It sounded like a woman, but he wasn’t sure. He guessed that she was probably hiding behind one of the trees.

“Hello?” he called out.

The crying stopped immediately.

“H-hello?” It was a woman and she seemed shocked to have been heard, much less have someone talk to her.

“Do you need help passing? You’ll have to come out.” Jungkook leaned over, balancing on one foot, trying to glimpse her.

“Passing?”

Oh dear. She didn’t know. This happened sometimes in tragic deaths, much like the boy, but children were more susceptible to trust Jungkook.

“Yes, but there isn’t any reason to be afraid. I can take you to a place that’s much nicer than the woods.”

She started to cry softly again.

“What’s your name?” She still cried, ignoring his question. “Mine is Jungkook.”

Jungkook sat down in the path, close to the grass that lined the tree line. He would take all the time in the world if it meant helping her out of the darkness.

“It’s Hae.” Her voice was soft, drifting from the trees on the breeze.

“A girl who is like the ocean.” Jungkook hoped she could hear his smile.

The leaves rustled in the trees as the breeze blew down the path from the clearing, a clear indication that Jungkook was needed elsewhere, but he did not move.

“How did I get here?”

He leaned forward on his elbows. He had yet to see the girl, so he wasn’t sure what had happened to her.

“Something very sudden probably happened to you. It’s okay not to remember.”

“I’m afraid.” Her whisper was heard above the din of other noises as he concentrated on her a little harder.

“I don’t want you to be afraid. You can come out.” Jungkook willed her to peer from around the tree. He had pinpointed where she was. Sometimes, when he could see them, it was easier for him to draw them out to the path.

“What happens if I do?” She sounded timid, defeated.

“I’ll hold your hand and walk the path with you. You don’t have to go alone.”

She cried again, harder this time. Jungkook saw barely a flash of a hand as she held onto the tree. The wind shifted and blew harder down the path as if an oncoming storm were about to drench the woods, but he knew it never rained here. The souls were getting restless. He usually did not spend this much time on the path. He sighed as he stood, dusting off his dark pants as he attempted to look in the woods again.

“Don’t venture any further into the woods, Hae. If you decide to come to the path, I’ll know, but please do not go into the darker places.”

She didn’t respond and he could no longer hear her crying. His eyes soaked in the darkness, trying to find her, but it was no use. When a soul did not want to be seen, they could hide easily from him. He walked away slowly, tilting his head to see if he could hear anything from her, but there was none. He could always come back later, he thought.

The balmy, warm atmosphere of the human world began to creep onto the path as he made his way to the living. Here, there was a blur, like the sun reflecting on a hot road. The smell of life drifted into Jungkook’s nose with its mashup of sweet and bitter notes. When he walked through, he was never quite sure where he’d end up if the dead needed him. On his own, he could control the location. He felt the pull of the dead the closer he got to the gateway. The step through always felt like a warm shower and the plunge off a cliff all at once. He walked onto a semi-busy town and scanned the small, squat building in front of him. The road was not paved, and many carts and horses moved around one another. He seemed to be in a poor country and the squat building in front of him that could have passed for a small home was probably the hospital for this small village.

He heard a gasp behind him and before he could turn the person said, “Where is this?” His eyes widened and his blood ran cold as he recognized the voice, no longer holding sorrow, but shock and surprise. He turned to see a woman with long, black hair, porcelain skin, and the largest eyes he had ever seen. She stared in shock at the people around them as they seemed not to notice their presence. They all seemed to walk right through them, or they went around them all together. She had her arms crossed across her stomach as she attempted to step out of the way of people who couldn’t even see her.

How did this happen? He searched the space beyond her, but there was no hint of the gateway anymore. He realized with a sickening drop in his stomach that it was possible for them to pass back, but how had she done it? He licked his lips before looking back down at her as she stared innocently back up at him.

“Hae?”

#bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook #death!jungkook #jungkook x oc #supernatural!au #nonidol!au #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

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maggyme13 · 4 years

Text

Sugar (14/?)

AN: IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!

I hope you missed me /this fic!

ATTENTION: as you are aware, I am including Dom/sub dynamic in this fic. I hereby inform you, that I have no direct experience in this (except fiction and research) so if anyone of you DO have experience, please feel free to pm me. I do not want to write this badly or bring a wrong light into this kink/ dynamic (i hope you know what I try to say)

Warnings: accident, talk about BDSM-rules between Dom and Sub

Wordcount: around 2900 ( this is a long one)

Masterlist

Sugar- Masterlist

Part 13

When you awoke the next morning, you were alone in a comfortable bed. No Loki was insight and a feeling of sadness entered your heart.

But not for long, just a minute after you had awoken, the door to the bedroom opened and the man in question entered.

“Good morning, (y/n), did you sleep well?”, he asked with a smile, handing you one of the cups he was carrying. You accepted and a smile graced your lips when the scent of hot cocoa filled your nostrils.

“mhmmmm.”, you hummed and almost snorted into your hot chocolate when your stomach rumbled from smelling the offered energy.

“It is a good thing then, that I asked Barnes and Wilson to get something for breakfast, right? Why don´t you get dressed in something comfortable and I will get the table ready.”, the CEO smiled and you accepted.

Opting for a quick shower and choosing some loose trousers and an over-sized shirt to wear, you finally entered the kitchen.

The table was filled with all different kinds of breakfast-food; from fruits and vegetables to bread and every version of egg (like scrambled) you knew.

“Take a seat. After breakfast, we have to talk about the future. Yesterday evening was an exception to the usual dynamic and rules.”

“I understand. And, thank you for last night.”, a slight blush crept up your face.

“My pleasure.”, he smiled, “Though there is no need to thank me for something I have enjoyed as well.”

Loki took his seat opposite to you and together you relished in the energizing and tasteful breakfast.

.--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--.

“Now,”, Loki stated, ”We have to talk. As I said, I will not force you to tell me what happened yesterday for you to act as you did. But should you ever want to tell me, I will listen and not judge you. Well, for your understanding, there are rules you and I have to follow for this to work. Almost one of the most important things is safe-words; you will choose a word, any word- though maybe not the one for the security-, and you use it when you want to stop with whatever we are doing or if you are not feeling well. I will never hold it against you, should you use it. But we will have to talk about what caused you to use the word.”

“Understood. I will think about one, can you help me with finding one that is not too – how do I say it- not fitting, like can be misleading while-”

“I understand what you mean, if you feel safer, we can use the traffic-light-rule. You will use green, yellow, and red. Green: everything is fine, please continue. Yellow: I am not sure, please slow down. Red: stop, I don´t like this.”

“That sounds good.”

“Alright. Then I am sure I already told you about hard and soft borders. You HAVE to tell me your no-goes; before I don´t know them there will be nothing happen between the two of us in the future. Then I need you to tell me your maybes; things you are not sure about or you want to try. You are the only person that can change the things in each category.”

“I won´t do anything regarding excrement, blood, or with other people. And as long as you use a condom I am trusting you, your judgment and experience.”, you stated with a nod.

“Understood. And I feel honored by your trust.”, the CEO hummed.

“What do you have planned for today?”, he asked and you shrugged.

“I don´t know. I wanted to bake with Ma in preparation for Christmas, but … Well...”, you answered with sadness in your voice.

“You can return to NY if you want. I have some business to attend to around here and would follow on Christmas eve.”, your boss offered, but you declined.

“No. I will stay here and return with you. “

“So, why don´t you go and visit the shelter and see if you can find a pet. Barnes told me you owned one back at your Mother´s.”, he smiled, “I thought about getting one for a bit now. But with how often I am traveling and at the office, I don´t believe I had the time.”

“Really? I can choose whatever I want?”, you asked to be sure.

“Whatever you like. Maybe not a tiger or so, but I don´t think they have these in the local shelter.”, he joked and you smiled.

“Yeah, I don´t think so either.”

“Take my brother with you. He is a huge softy about pets. Maybe you can convince him to get one for himself. His flat needs a bit more life as well.”

“Will do Loki. Thank you.”

Loki was glad he had been able to get the sadness out of your eyes for now, but he still needed to ask Barnes what he knew and believed happened with you. That why he sends his brother with you. That, and he really believed what he had told you.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

One hour later the two of you stepped into the reception area of the Charming Shelter.

“Hello, how can I help you?”, a young woman greeted.

“Hello. I am looking for a pet. Preferably a Dog. Something big if you have. Those fancy handbag- breeds are nothing for me.”, you answered with a smile.

“Do you have any experience with large breeds?”, she asked you to make sure you would not be overwhelmed by one.

“Yes, I had two Pitbulls in the past. I trained them myself. One was a rescue.”

“Well, then you know what you get into with the big ones. Please follow me. You can call me Linda by the way.”

“(y/n), nice to meet you, Linda.”

The halls were echoing from the barking of dozens of dogs of all kinds of breeds and you took the time to look into every cage and at every dog.

“These are Skalli and Hati. They were taken from an owner that was found out to be the leader of a dog-fighting-ring. Luckily these two were saved before he had been able to start. One of our volunteers named them after two mythical hounds.”, Linda introduced two dogs.

One was an all-black Rottweiler, with white socks; the other a pure white Pit with black socks. They were the complete opposite regarding the coloration.

They seemed to be shy, but curious at the same time.

“We want them to give them away to either the same household/family or befriended ones, for they only know each other to be with and don´t want to separate them.”

“Who is who?”, you asked, offering your hand for the two of them to sniff.

“Skalli is the dark one and Hati the white one.”, she explained.

“How are the two of them with men?”

“We know of no incidences, they have never died nor attacked anyone as we know.”

“What do you think Thor?”

“They are cute, but I think my brother will be a bit overwhelmed with two dogs at once. Better start small.”

“You are right. But what about you? I heard you were thinking about a pet as well.”, you smirked.

“Huh?”, he frowned.

“You could take one of these two and I will take the other. Like this, they will be living in the same building and can see each other a lot.”

“And when I go to work?”

“Take it with you. A Rottweiler or Pit is the right dog to accompany a head of security, don´t you think? You could train it for detection or protection.”, you shrugged with a knowing smile.

“Mhm.”

“At least try to pet one. They are really cute.”, you pleaded, with him you yourself scratching the two of them through the door.

And your plan worked, the second the giant began petting Skalli (who turned on his back asking for his belly to be scratched) a smile spread over his face and joy entered his eyes.

Got you.

“And?”, Linda asked with the same knowing look in her eyes.

“You got me (y/n). Looks like my brother finally gets his will. I will take this little rascal home with me.”

“Then I will take Hati.”, you grinned, ”Can we take them with us today? Or do we need to return tomorrow?”

“You have to do fill out a form with personal information and pay an adoption fee. As well as a fee for medical care these two had to receive. Then you can take them with you.”, Linda explained.

“We can do that. How much?”, you hummed, petting your new dog's belly.

“One thousand per dog.”, Linda gulped, “I know that is more than you have to pay elsewhere. But we are a No-kill-shelter and had to increase the fees due to the many animals we currently have and can´t get adopted.”

A plea sang in her voice. A plea to not turn away because of that sum.

“Alright. Do you want it in cash, check, or per bank transfer?”, Thor answered this time.

“Whatever is best for you.”, the shelter employee stated a bit shocked and relieved.

“I am going to call Heimdall Thor.”, you said, already dialing the number.

“Hello, Ms (y/n).”

“Hello Heimdall, I need you to transfer money to the Charming Animal Shelter for me.”

“Of course. How much do you need me to transfer for the dog? And does Mr Thor pay for himself or will he declare it as work-expenses?”, the secretary stated and you shook your head.

I give up on trying to find out how he does that.

“I will ask him. Thor, Heimdal wants to know if you want to pay yourself or have the company pay for him as work-expenses.”

“I will pay for him.”, he answered.

“I heard what he said. How much do you want me to transfer Ms (y/n).”

“Three thousand. One for the dog and two as a donation. Can you start a five hundred dollar repeating donation for this shelter each month for me?”, you asked. No-kill-shelters had become rare, and this seemed genuinely interested in the well-being of the animals.

“Money is transferred. And I was free to add some more to the donation from our firm's donation- account.”, the male secretary added.

“How much?”, you wondered really interested.

“Enough for them to operate for a few months. If you now excuse me. I am receiving an important call on the other line.”

“Of course. Have a nice day Heimdal.”, and with that, you ended the call, “Money should be there tomorrow at the latest. Now, do we have to get them special food because of allergies or so? What did you feet them.”

“E-ehm, they don´t have any allergies. And thank you so much, we really appreciate any money we can get.”, tears threatened to fall down the woman´s face.

“It´s my pleasure. There are far too few no-kill-shelters. And you seem genuinely interested in these animals. Now let's do all the other stuff we have to do. We need to get stuff for them too.”

“Of course. Please follow me into the office, I will get Hati and Skalli ready while you fill out the forms.”

“Please lead the way.”

-..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..-

One and a half hours later, Thor, Skalli, Hati and you entered Charming´s only pet store and left it another two hours with everything the two dogs would need for the next days.

Both of you were around five hundred dollars lighter and Skalli and Hati wearing matching harnesses and collars and smiles on their face.

“What do you think. We can visit the park before returning to the house. I think it will do them good.”, you hummed and so the four of you did.

It was a small but beautiful park and you had enjoyed the two previous visits with your Mother.

Hati and Skalli were behaving well and listened to the commands of sit, down, and no without a problem.

You were so engrossed with your new dog, that you did not notice your brother with two other bikers standing a few hundred meters away, watching you interested with a slightly solemn look in his eye. Well, it might be in both of his eyes, but the second one was swollen almost shut by a bruise one of his own brothers had given him.

“Yes brother?”, Thor answered his phone, catching your attention, “yes we were.- Yes I have found one as well.- We are at the park with them.- Yes.- Yes- Alright. See you in a bit.”

“Do we have to return?”, you asked having listened to his side of the conversation.

“No. My brother and the other two are coming over here to meet them and as I know my brother to get some ice-cream at the parlor over there. That man is a sucker for good ice-cream.”, the big man answered, kneeling to be closer to his new companion, “Yes he is, Skalli. You are so well-behaving. Such a good boy.”

Laughing you followed his lead and were bathed in puppy-kisses by Hati, “Aweee, thank you Hati. Thank you so much.”

Loki, Bucky, and Sam joined you ten minutes later, the first one placing a soft kiss on the edge of your mouth.

Hati sitting next to you watching the new man with interest.

“And you must be our new room-mate. I think we will get along well, what do you think?”, Loki asked the puppy, offering his hand for him to scent. Seconds later it was licked with vigor and Hati´s tail was wagging like crazy.

“He likes you. His name is Hati. He and Skalli are rescues and were only given away to the same or befriended households.”, you explained.

“Hello Hati. I am Loki.”

* wuff* * whimper* * bark*

Hati waited for you to allow him to greet the man properly, and Skalli wanted to join as well.

Loki and the other two were playing with the dogs a few meters away from you to introduce themselves when a movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A car was barreling towards you. A car that somehow made no noise and was driving so fast you were barely able to jump out of the way or shout.

Three seconds after you noticed the car, you were hit by the side of the fender sending you flying through the air and hitting the ground hard.

Pain burnt up your thigh and hip as well as pulsing in your head. Nausea hit you not long after and there was only one thing you new: at least you were alive, but how long would it stay that way.

Through the headache and your own noises of pain, you heard voices calling out for you.

“(y/n)! (y/n)! Do you hear me? Tell me where the most pain is.”, you only knew it was one of the men you had been with, but not who.

“Thor is calling an ambulance and taking care of the dogs. So hold tight okay? Everything will be alright.”, you believed it was Bucky.

“It hurts. My head-”, you groaned only to dry heave of pain.

“Everything will be fine, okay? Can you open the eyes for me? Please (y/n), let me see your beautiful eyes.”, now you new it was Loki.

“Loki?”, you groaned.

“I am here.”

“I am getting tired, I don´t want to sleep-”, you mumbled, feeling how your body started to shut down.

“Look at me. (y/n), hear me? Look at me, or at least talk with me. The ambulance just arrived. You will be fine. I will not allow anything to happen to you. Remember?”

“Come with me … Hospital?”, you coughed, not wanting to be alone.

“If the medics allow it. But I will be at the hospital waiting for you and not leaving it without you. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

There was movement around you, people you did not know joined Loki and you, two of them starting to touch your body.

“Miss? This is Rodger. I am a paramedic and here to help you, okay? Jason and Sasha will be checking you for your injuries and preparing to get you to St. Thomas while I am going to ask you a few questions.”

“Yeah.”, you hummed in understanding.

“The pain you are feeling, how bad is it when 10 is the worst pain you ever felt and 1 is nothing.”

“Eight.”, you groaned.

“Alright. I will give you something for it as soon as I am finished with my questions. Where does it hurt?”

“Knees, Thighs, Hip. Head. I am nauseous.”, you groaned between breaths.

“Any known allergies against medications? Or any known in your family?”

“No.”

“Alright. I will give you something against the pain now. It will probably make you tired. It is alright. Jason will place the EKG on you for us to monitor your heart-rate so we will know how you are doing. So, do not worry if you do become very tired. The boys and I will take care of you and get you to the hospital.”

“Thank you.”, you breathed.

“No worries. I will give you something against the pain now.”, not long after he said that, the pain started to subdue and your eyelids slipped close.

Soon you had slipped into a dreamless slumber.

Part 15

AN 2.0. So, what do you think will happen next? Who hit her with the car?

REBLOGS and comments are appreciated:)

Thank you very much.

~MaggY

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey @thankyoukarenclifford

@thankyouforanonymity @punkrockhufflefluff

@scarletraine @buckycaptspideypool @markusstraya @graveyard-groupie @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil

@marshyrebelcloud

MCU:

@yknott81 @banner-and-bucky-are-life @forext20 @dyanlzbb @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4 @bitchwhytho @ladyofmyst @jilldsumner @momc95 @appreciating-fanfics

Sugar:

@bits-and-bobs-and-kawaii-stuffs @mimmie666 @fullranchwolfoperator

@cluelessnitwhit @youknowitsclouds @his-paradox @purplerainharry

@spootgaai2000 @iamsuperjenna @nikkipea @alexakeyloveloki @timelordy-fangirl2 @girrafeeeeeee @emilyjane44x @randomgirlwholoveskpop @deathkat657

I couldnt tag a few of you… sorry.

Want to get tagged as well? Comment, Reblog or send an ask to let me know.

#Sugardaddy Loki #sugardaddy loki x reader #Loki x reader #mcu #Reader insert #Marvel AU #Loki AU #car accident #sons of anarchy

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sleepless-rain · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu Fighter!! Round 2.0

[The boss and nostalgia.] If you think about it, it was fun being young. Being on the class committee and looking after the juniors. House chores were done with the aim of earning a little pocket money. But even then there were always someone cleverer.

“I mean I am the boss now after all…”

Sawamura sat in his commanders seat, gazing out into the sunset. Remembering the innocent days, playing until mud-sodden, he let out a small chuckle. “We played until our shoes had holes with a ball, tattered and old from who-knows-where.”

TRANSLATORS NOTE:

Please do NOT repost this translation ANYWHERE. If I see the whole thing elsewhere I will stop translating novel chapters and delete all chapter translations I have done. Sharing small snippets are okay but not the whole thing. Please link back to this Tumblr post if you want to share it.

Everyone he knew, himself included, were poor. In the beginning he had only wanted to get them all a pair of shoes that weren’t riddled in holes. And after that, a new ball, then a wide field, and before he knew it he was the commander of the criminal organization Karasunou. “As the other’s had said, I may have gotten a little too carried away. After all, a criminal organization was still an organization. As long as I did my best, it would bring back the light to my eyes.” At that moment the door to the control room opened and Sawamura’s bodyguard, Shimizu, entered. “Your eyes are gleaming again.” “Hm? Oh, I was just remembering something from a long time ago.” The commander had a habit of getting lost in nostalgia. Shimizu replied coolly. “Please don’t ever say that you want to let Karasunou be destroyed again. If you do hundreds of people will be turned into the streets. If that happens who knows what sort of crimes they will commit to make a living.” “I know, I know. I’ll make sure to take them into consideration.” Shimizu saluted towards the tired looking Sawamura. “I apologize for my impertinent remarks.” “Its fine. It would be boring if I didn’t have someone to talk to.” Shimizu gave a smile and lowered her arm. “I’m not worthy of such words.”

“Well then, lets get back to work… oh that Lion man from just then. That was a little sad.”

“I didn’t want to shed any unnecessary blood.”

“I know but- ah, Shimizu could you close the blinds? It’s a little blinding.”

The blinds hid the night view. For the sake of keeping their organization alive, and the sake of keeping their subordinates fed. Sawamura’s eyes gleamed at the thought of their next criminal plan. To Be Continued…

As a small disclaimer: I have taken some liberties in translation to make the novel read smoothly. So please don’t quote anything in this translation as canon as it is merely my own interpretation of the Japanese text. That being said I tried my best to stay faithful to the original. For this reason I will not allow translations into another language using this as the base text. I apologise to anyone who is keen on sharing it in another language but please do so using the original Japanese text.

Anyway, if you enjoyed this chapter please consider supporting Haikyuu and buying a copy of this novel (volume 3) ! I may consider doing more novel translations in the future!

I do have a Ko-fi so if you do feel like it, please donate!

#Haikyuu #haikyuu light novel #leo translation #sawamura daichi #kiyoko shimizu #Haikyuu fighter

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onlytwdfanficstories · 3 years

Text

Friends and enemies part 27

Emily "So Rosita has something against scientists?"

Eugene "Not against everyone. Just me."

Emily "So you might be a shit scientist, then?"

Eugene "I'm not shit, but maybe a little sloppy."

Emily "Well, maybe I could teach you."

Eugene "Can you do it?"

Emily "Well, now I can."

Eugene "Well, when do we start?"

Emily "Although right away."

Eugene "Damn yeah."

Then Eugene and Emily went for a walk towards the Garage.

Abraham "Looks like Eugene may have found his partner."

Merle "Yeah, those two are match made in hell."

Abraham "Prefer, a match made in Heaven."

Carol looked at Michonne.

Carol "Maybe you and Daryl should try to talk things out."

Michonne "Well, Daryl made it very clear he didn't want to talk to me. So why the hell would I even try?"

Carol "I'm sure he'll agree to talk to you."

Michonne "I doubt that."

Carol "It doesn't hurt if you try."

Michonne "I guess so."

Carol "Go find him."

Michonne "Like now?"

Carol "What's wrong with the word now?"

Michonne "Nothing."

Carol "Well, then go."

Michonne "Will you come with me?"

Carol "Why?"

Michonne "I need moral support and you know Daryl better than I do."

Carol "All right, I'll be your moral support."

Then Michonne and Carol set out in search of Daryl.

Abraham "What's up between Daryl and Michonne?"

Merle "I don't have a damn idea."

Andrea "It looked like Daryl would have been angry with Michonne or something."

Morgan "But why?"

Andrea "Who knows."

Meanwhile, inside the house and in the room where Rick and Gabriel were sitting next to Judith's bed.

Rick "Please wake up."

Gabriel "She will wake up."

Rick "What if she doesn't wake up?"

Gabriel "I'm sure she'll do it sooner or later."

Rick "I should have stayed and not run into the woods!"

Gabriel "It wasn't your fault."

Rick "Well, it was! I'm damn Judith's father! And I should have protected him! But what the fuck did I do? I ran with Siddiq in the woods to help Michonne!"

Gabriel "Michonne would have died if you hadn't gone to help her."

Rick "And now my daughter is dying!"

Gabriel "Judith won't die! She'll survive!"

Rick "You don't know that, damn it!"

Gabriel said nothing.

Rick "You're not a miracle worker!"

Gabriel "But God is."

Rick "Fuck you and your God!"

Gabriel "Uncertainty is difficult."

Rick "You don't say."

Gabriel "We just have to wait."

Then Siddiq came back to the room and had X-ray pictures with him.

Rick "What are those?"

Siddiq "X-ray images of Judith's ribs."

Rick "How bad is that?"

Siddiq "Judith may need surgery."

Rick "That was bad news."

Siddiq "Not necessarily."

Rick "But surgeries are always a risk."

Siddiq "Yeah, they might have their risks, but there's no other option."

Rick "What would be the second option?"

Siddiq "Well, the first is surgery and the second is no surgery, but Judith would suffer and die slowly. You decide."

Rick looked at Judith who was still lying unconscious in bed. Gabriel put his hand on Rick's shoulder.

Gabriel "I know this is a difficult decision for you, but it's the best thing you could do for Judith."

Rick looked back at Siddiq.

Rick "Do it."

Siddiq "Are you sure?"

Rick "If it helps."

Siddiq "There's always a risk that surgery won't work out or Judith could die."

Rick "I'll take that risk."

Siddiq "Before I can start surgery on Judith, I need blood. Judith has shed a lot of blood when she fought Negan."

Rick "I can give it. We have the same blood type."

Siddiq "Okay."

Gabriel "I heard from Maggie that Charlotte is a nurse."

Siddiq "We need his help too."

Gabriel "I'm going to get him."

Siddiq "Thank you."

Then Gabriel got up from his chair and he looked at Rick.

Gabriel "Trust me, Judith will survive."

Then Gabriel opened the door of the room then he ran out of the house and he noticed Maggie.

Gabriel "Maggie!"

Maggie turned to look at Gabriel who was out of breath.

Maggie "Are you okay?"

Gabriel "Yeah I am. Where's Charlotte? Siddiq needs her help."

Maggie "Why?"

Gabriel "Siddiq makes surgery."

Maggie "To whom?"

Gabriel "Judith."

Maggie "All right, let's go find Charlotte."

Then they set out in search of Charlotte.

Maggie "Did Judith have broken bones when she had fought Negan?"

Gabriel "Yes, ribs."

Maggie "Will she survive?"

Gabriel "Siddiq said there could always be a risk that surgery might fail or Judith might die."

They saw Charlotte who was with Ezekiel.

Maggie "Charlotte, we need you!"

Ezekiel and Charlotte turned to look at Gabriel and Maggie.

Ezekiel "What has happened?"

Gabriel "Siddiq is going to make a surgery."

Ezekiel "Surgery? To whom?"

Maggie "Judith needs surgery to survive."

Charlotte "Oh my God."

Ezekiel "She was hurt so badly while fighting Negan that she needs surgery?"

Gabriel "Yes, she broke his ribs."

Ezekiel "That's horrible."

Charlotte "I'll be right there!"

Then Maggie, Gabriel and Charlotte went for a walk towards the house.

Charlotte "How much blood has Judith lost?"

Gabriel "Pretty much."

Charlotte "Who's going to donate blood to him?"

Gabriel "Rick promised."

Charlotte "Great."

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Carol and Michonne had found Daryl.

Carol "Hey, Daryl."

Daryl looked at them.

Daryl "Hey, Carol."

Michonne "Hey."

Daryl just looked at Michonne.

Daryl "What the hell do you want?"

Michonne "Can we talk?"

Daryl "No need."

Carol "You're talking now."

Daryl looked at Carol.

Daryl "I have nothing damn thing to say to him!"

Carol "Why are you mad at him?"

Daryl "Isn't that damn obvious?"

Carol "Listen Judith was stubborn and she herself went to fight Negan! No one damn commanded her! And you let her go!"

Daryl "Now you're blaming me for that Judith's is almost dying?"

Carol "I don't blame anyone!"

Daryl "I'm not going to talk!"

Michonne left.

Carol "You're fucking selfish!"

Daryl said nothing.

Carol "Merle is better than you!"

Daryl "Now you're in love with him, aren't you?"

Carol "I didn't say that."

Daryl "Well, are you trying to make me damn jealous?"

Carol "Does it work?"

Daryl "Fucking well."

Carol "Good."

Then Carol turned around.

Daryl "Hey, where the hell are you going?"

Carol "I'm going to flirt with Merle."

Daryl "You can't do that to me."

Carol "You tell me."

Daryl "I'd rather show when I tell."

Carol turned around and she looked at Daryl.

Daryl "What?"

Carol "Don't try to figure me out. I'm a special kind of twisted."

Daryl "Well, I've noticed that."

Carol "If you ever figure me out please teach me who i am."

Daryl "I'm planning it."

Carol "You're welcome to try."

Daryl "What did that mean?"

Carol "I laugh when people try to figure me out, like good luck, i can't even figure me out."

Daryl "I ain't gonna give up."

Carol "And I'm not going to give up, either."

Daryl "Are you still going to flirt with Merle?"

Carol "I might go."

Daryl "You're mean!"

Carol "I'm not."

Daryl "What are you then? If you're not mean."

Carol "I like to think i'm some savage realist."

Daryl "I don't think so."

Carol "Well, exactly the same. I'm going now."

Daryl "Where?"

Carol "Flirt with Merle like I already said."

Daryl "No, you're not going."

Carol "What if I go?"

Daryl "You won't do that to me."

Carol "Try to stop me."

Daryl "Hell yeah, I'm going to."

Carol "I want to see that."

Then Carol went for a run.

Daryl "Hey, that wasn't fair!"

Carol was gone.

Daryl "Damn!"

Then Daryl left to run after Carol.

Daryl "That woman is going to be in damn trouble if she really went to flirt with Merle."

In the meantime, in the house.

Gabriel "I found Charlotte!"

Siddiq "Great."

Charlotte and Maggie stepped inside the room.

Maggie "Rick, I'm really sorry about what happened to Judith."

Rick "Thank you."

Maggie went to hug Rick.

Maggie "Are you okay?"

Rick "I have to be."

Charlotte looked at Siddiq.

Charlotte "When do you start surgery?"

Siddiq "Not today. Maybe tomorrow."

Rick "Only tomorrow? Judith may be dead by that time!"

Siddiq "Rick, Judith has lost too much blood already and if I started the surgery now, she wouldn't survive."

Rick "I'm sorry, I didn't think of that."

Siddiq "I understand. You're worried and also maybe in shock."

Rick "Yeah, maybe."

Maggie "Judith is a strong girl and she fought until the last and she defeated Negan."

Rick said nothing.

Maggie "She is strong cup of black coffee, she is a true fighter, you could see it in her eyes. She was not born strong, she was made strong. She was sculpted to be her own hero when the world let her down, and she kept picking herself back up. Nothing can remove her smile. Nothing can shattered her. She is the one. She is the heir of ice and fire and she would bow to no one."

Rick looked at Judith lying unconscious in bed.

Rick "Wake up girl, you are a born fighter."

Judith said nothing.

Rick "You have to wake up. You have to. Fight through hell and come back. We need you yet. It's not your time yet to die."

Still no answer.

Rick "You can't die now, damn it!"

Then Rick threw a chair against the wall and it broke.

Maggie "Rick, calm down! That won't help anything!"

Rick "I .... I have to go out for a moment."

Rick ran out of the room and he ran out of the house.

Charlotte "That escalated quickly."

Siddiq "I'm going to prepare the operating table for tomorrow."

Charlotte "I'll help you."

Siddiq "Thank you."

Siddiq and Charlotte then set out to prepare the operating table for tomorrow. Maggie looked at Judith.

Maggie "If you are going through hell, keep on going, don't slow down. If you are scared, don't show it. You might get out before the devil even knows you're there."

Then Maggie walked to the door, Maggie was just going out of the room when she heard Judith out loud.

Judith "Where the hell am I?"

Maggie turned around and she was surprised.

Maggie "Judith, are you awake?"

Judith "Yeah, I think so. Shouldn't I be?"

Maggie "You were unconscious."

Judith "What? How long?"

Maggie "About almost 10 hours."

Judith "What the hell happened?"

Maggie "You fought Negan and Negan beat the shit out of you, but you kept fighting until Negan was dead."

Judith "He did die?"

Maggie "Yeah, he did."

Judith "Holy fucking shit."

Judith tried to get out of bed, but Maggie went to her.

Maggie "Don't try to move."

Judith "I have to go pee."

Maggie said nothing.

Judith "Feels like I was hit by a hundred hammers at the same time or I would have been run under a damn truck."

Maggie "Negan fucked your ribs."

Judith went back to lying on the bed.

Maggie "Siddiq is going to make you surgery and repair your ribs."

Judith "I can die."

Maggie "Well, the risks are there."

Judith "Where's Rick?"

Maggie "He went out."

Then Judith looked at the chair that was in pieces on the floor.

Judith "What the hell has happened to that chair?"

Maggie "Rick decided to throw it in the wall."

Judith "Was he angry with someone?"

Maggie "For herself."

Judith "What? Why?"

Maggie "He blames herself for lying here and being hurt."

Judith "It wasn't her fault. It was mine. I was so damn stubborn and I went to fight Negan. I didn't know Negan didn't give up."

Maggie "You're just did what you had to."

Judith "Where's Shane?"

Maggie "He's dead."

Judith "How did he die?"

Maggie "The walkers killed her."

Judith "I didn't see Shane when I went to fight Negan."

Maggie "Yeah, because Shane went after Michonne and he tried to kill Michonne, but Jim saved Michonne and Jim died as a result and then Shane flew into the gorge and he climbed out of there, but Rick would push him back there and then a group of walkers attacked his bundle."

Judith "Damn that was a long story."

Maggie "And that's true, also."

Judith "When is Siddiq going to make me that surgery?"

Maggie "Tomorrow."

Judith "Only, tomorrow? Why the hell?"

Maggie "According to Siddiq, you've lost too much blood so he can't do it today."

Judith "I'm okay and I'm strong too."

Maggie "I have no doubt."

Judith "Where's Siddiq even?"

Maggie "He and Charlotte went to put the operating table ready for tomorrow."

Judith "So, I have to lie down until tomorrow this damn bed, huh?"

Maggie "Unfortunately."

Judith "But I have to damn get to pee."

Maggie "I'm going to get Siddiq here."

Judith "You better or else I'll pee on this damn bed."

Maggie "Please don't do that."

Then Maggie went to the door and she went out of the room and she went in search of Charlotte and Siddiq.

Maggie "Siddiq!"

Maggie heard Siddiq voice coming from the ballroom that had turned into an operating room.

Siddiq "We're here!"

Maggie opened the ballroom door and she went inside.

Maggie "She woke up."

Siddiq "Who woke up?"

Maggie "Judith."

Siddiq "Really?"

Maggie "Yeah and she has to get to the pee, otherwise she's going to pee on the bed."

Charlotte started laughing.

Maggie "Why are you laughing?"

Charlotte "Sorry, that just sounded hilarious."

Maggie "Well, Judith was serious when she said it."

to be continued....

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kumoriyami-xiuzhen · 4 years

Text

Hakuoki Zuisouroku Omokage-ge hana Animate Drama Translation

Last post of the month, but instead of my usual message, I figured I should change it due to current circumstances.... So. If you are able, please consider donating to your local food banks, the Red Cross or other charities who are supporting those affected by Covid-19. Alternatively, consider donating blood (including this since I saw this on CBC and from the Canadian Blood Services and they both mentioned potential shortages), tipping those who deliver your food/take out delivery (every dollar counts to some of these people - I would know since I’m unemployed right now cuz of what’s going on but will able to get by. huzzah for the Canadian government!), or support other content creators, writers, translators and artists who need help if possible.

Also make sure you wash your hands for 20 seconds, avoid touching your face, cough into your sleeve/elbow, practice social distancing and refrain from going out if possible.... and please, please do not go singling out a certain ethnicity for how things are right now. I have a second cousin who works in a hospital down in california, and another living in new york right now.... and the last thing they need is racism and harassment.

Anyway. I’m finally done with this drama. not really fond of putting things all together since that means i need to translate more hakuoki content for another week (i prefer to do less lol), but i’ve made an exception to this as the audio was supplied to me earlier by Aysha (which is also why i had this drama jump the queue lol). Edits will be done when I get to my subtitle video.

do not repost elsewhere. also thank you to @jokertrap-ran for helping me with 2 sentences that i just couldn’t figure out the Chinese for (they’re the ones left in bold), and thank you again to Aysha for supplying the audio.

Videos are now here

Track 1: https://youtu.be/ETTfJHCKOkk

Track 2: https://youtu.be/Nnp0mE_DLmw

enjoy?

Hakuoki Zuisouroku Omokage-ge hana Animate Drama CD Shimabara After story

Track 1

Translation by KumoriYami

Harada: Okay! Well now that this Shimabara incident is over, let's take the opportunity to drink! Everyone don't hold back [says: be modest], we aren't going home until we're drunk/unless we get drunk!

Okita: Arresting/Catching so many ronin, Kondou-san was also very happy! He also said that the spies hiding here were also arrested by the Shinsengumi.

Saito: However it seems that the Vice-Commander was a little anxious/upset. Because of the investigation of the spies, [news of it] has already spread throughout Shimabara. Tonight's festivities, although it was approved by the vice-commander, he however said that we need to conduct ourselves with dignity [behave appropriately]

Souji: Yes/indeed. Then let's order some expensive food! Excuse me, please start with your most expensive wine in the store served with similar dishes!

Saito: Wait a moment! Why are you doing the opposite! The vice-commander clearly said, that we should be holding a meeting to reflect upon ourselves, and should not be celebrating by drinking.....

Souji: Eh, I can't hear anything!

Harada: heisuke, what's wrong? You haven't said anything from the start. Are you still brooding over what happened?

Heisuke: Wha....what do you mean by brooding? Sano-san. Don't say things that don't make sense/something strange.

Souji: What what? What are you brooding over/what's the matter?

Harada: Ah, so it's like this......

Heisue: Hey, I told you not to say anything unnecessary!

Harada: Ah, sorry. can't you just say it?

Souji: Are you keeping a secret from us? That's really annoying [unpleasant].

Heisuke: Since it's only a small matter, I haven't said anything.

Souji: In that case just enjoy yourself to the fullest. Thanks to her dressing up as a geisha, she was able to infiltrate Shimabara to obtain information, and we were able to catch all those roshi at once.

Heisuke: But.... I din't want to have her dressed up like that..... [force?]

Souji: Areh?

Heisuke:.......What.

Souji: Hm~? it turns out/so that's what it was, it was that thing.

Heisuke: Don't smile like that!

Souji: How annoying, my usual expression is like this.

Heisuke: Liar! Whenever Souji shows this kind of expression, you're definitely not thinking of anything good!

Souji: Actually/In fact you don't need to feel embarrassed, could it be that Heisuke didn't think that she looked lovely dressed as a geisha?

Harada: [it's?] Because she was originally a beauty [from the start she's already beautiful]

Souji: That response is really straight to the point/direct. Compared to Heisuke who felt embarrassed/shy because of how cute she looked dressed as a geisha, the reactions of everyone else was like the difference between heaven and earth.

Heisuke: Why am I being dragged into his! I only that because she's not a member of the troopi, that she shouldn't be taking on such a dangerous assignment, that's all......

Harada: For the purpose of keeping her out of danger, weren't we on standby in the corner room?? You were great, shouting "that's not good," [and] "I can't stand this" or something, and rushed outside.

Heisuke: Why are you telling the truth!!! Anyway shut up and stop talking you idiot!

Harada: Whoops, i'm really sorry.

Souji: Eh..... so that's it. I didn't expect that.

Heisuke: No, that's not [it]......!s

Saito (whispering): Actually/In fact I can understand Heisuke's thoughts...... at the time I was also deeply fascinated [entranced/captivated] by how she was dressed.

Souji: Hajime-kun?

Saito: Ah...Uh, sorry, i'ts nothing...Well, I did just say it...

Souji: Well, I can hear you very well. It turns out that even Hajime-kun was also deeply fascinated by her dress [check if says kimono. also rephrase later].

Saito : !!!! I, I didn't mean [it like?] that! Just, just because I was unfamiliar with how she dressed, doesn't mean that I was attracted [to it? her?]....... [rephrase later]

Souji: In other words, you admit that you're attracted to her?

Saito: No....... In any case I am also a captain in the Shinsengumi so how could I think of something so shameless when I am carrying out my duties! Anyhow, where is she? It seems that she hasn't arrived here yet......

Harada: Hijikata-san and Shinpachi should be bringing her over soon.

(the sound of footsteps and a door sliding open)

???: I just saw her a moment ago being questioned at the entrance of Shimabara. And together with Hijikata.

Heisuke: You are.... Kazama?! (reaches for sword)

Kazama: Put away your sword. I'm in a good mood today, and have no reason to fight you.

Souji: What does your so-called good mood mean/what do you mean by good mood?

Kazama: That goes without saying. Of course it's because I saw my wife's beautiful dress [appearance]. As expect, my eyes did not make a mistake [were not wrong].

Saito: Yukimura is not your wife. Her attitude towards you has been blatant/explicit.

Kazama: I've heard that woman who grow up in Edo are very strong. Even if she fell in love with me, she wouldn't show it.

Souji: Where does your self-confidence come from?

Harada: Go back to that [going back to what you said before], Chizuru's being interrogated?! Did someone discover her identity as a woman......

Kazama: It's because of the elopement incident that Hijikata caused which seems to have [caused her to be] been noticed [rephrase later].

Souji: Eh~ I just heard some extraordinary gossip [interesting]. It turns out that Hijikata-san already had such a reputation at Shimabara/Hijikata-san's reputation has spread to such an extent at Shimabara.

Harada: Oi, Souji. For the sake of safety/To be on the safe side, don't speak of this/go around spreading this to the other team members......

Souji: How hateful/annoying, I won't speak of such nonsense. But in the event that someone asks me if the Vice-Commander is or isn't with a geisha from Shimabara, I won't hide anything/speak without holding back.

Kazama: Alright [Very well... or something cuz its kazama], [let's] start drinking. The depressed guy over there, hurry up and prepare sake for me.

Heisuke: Oi! Why are you sneaking into our party?!

(After a while......)

Heisuke (sounds drunk for the rest of this track): Speaking of which.... I was against this plan from the very beginning!

Saito:......Heisuke, did you drink too much? Your eyes are starting to droop [lose focus].

Heisuke: Teach me how to not drink so much!

Saito: Why are you so upset?

Heisuke: I'm super pissed!!! For a covert investigation, we actually didn't need to use her, as long as we paid a geisha to assist us, but she was abruptly dragged down into this by us.

Saito: Your way of thinking isn't understandable, but it was also her who took the initiative to help us, [so] your criticisms are a little too much. [check audio to hear if this sounds like multiple sentences]

Harada: That's right. Based on the outcome, nothing big happened, [which] this isn't bad.

Souji: Seeing how cute she was dressed, Heisuke was definitely/obviously very happy.

Heisuke: You smiling demon [???]!!! Compared to those clothes, the clothes of an ordinary woman clearly suit her more [rephrase later]!!

Harada: maybe, I'd also like her to see her dressed like an ordinary woman.

Heisuke: Hey......Sano-san, I've wanted to ask you.... She.... what is she to you?

Harada: Hm? I don't really think much of it but, is something the matter? Why do you ask? [i’ll reword ^ later when i get to the drama]

heisuke: I feel that Sano-san.... your attitude, rather than a comrade, you treat her more as a woman.

Harada: That's the [your?] problem. Although she's usually dressed in men's clothes, she's still genuinely a woman. It's only natural to treat her as a woman/Of course she still has to be treated as a woman.

Heisuke: [That's/so] Too sly/cunning......!

Souji: If Heisuke wants to treat her as a girl, he should be honest and say so and not be secretive about it..

Kazama: (setting down a glass) Toudou...... could it be that you have ill intentions towards my wife [TL is more or less evil thoughts/desire lol]? First take a look in a mirror [Look at yourself in the mirror first].

Heisuke: Shut up! You're the last one to be teaching me anything [last one who she be saying anything] ! She hates you the most out of all of us!!!

Kazama: I remember what I said just now [Remember what I said just now], Edo women, even if they fall in love, they will not express their true thoughts.

Saito:......I think it'd be nice if Heisuke could have a face as thick as Kazama's [if Heisuke could be as thick-headed as Kazama.... probably? or if Heisuke could have a face that had a fraction of Kazama's thickness]

Heisuke: Hajime-kun where the hell did your arm go?!

Souji: Don't first talk about Heisuke, what about yourself Hajime-kun [rephrase later]? Are you confident enough to defeat a crowd of rivals in love while surrounded and at her side?

Saito:......What are you talking about! The team has rules that ban personal fights!

Souji: That is to say, if it's not a personal fight, we're allowed to fight until one of us is dead/you'd fight to the death?

Saito:.....Why must you twist other people's words to this degree/extent!

Kazama: You bastard...... it seems that I'll have to force the truth from your mouth. Oi, Toudou. bring out the strongest sake in the store! I'm going to expose what his sincere thoughts he has [will have the truth forced from this man].

Heisuke: Why are you ordering me around!? Wait a moment/Hold on...... this is for getting Hajime-kun drunk so he'll tell the truth...... Yosh! I'm going to get/grab it at once/immediately!

(Heisuke gets up and runs out)

Saito: Wait! It doesn't matter that you guys are already drunk, but I cannot get drunk [now]......

Souji: (pours sake) Don't say that, let's drink without holding back! These opportunities are hard to come by!

---------------------------------------

Track 2

Hijikata: It was pointed out that Yukimura looked a lot like the geisha who eloped the other day...... It look a while/lot of time to settle that mater.

(door opens)

Hijikata: I've made you wait for a long time! Sorry, I sent Yukimura back first with Shinpachi to headquarters......Eh, what's going on?!

Souji: Ah. Hijikata-san, you're really late.

Hijikata: You're the one that's late! Harada and Heisuke are completely drunk!

Kazama: What are you saying/talking about. It's your fault that you're always so slow.

Hijikata: Kazama! You bastard why are you here?!

Kazama: Don't mention that, why haven't you brought my wife?

Hijikata: Who's your wife! It's because she got upset from being interrogated, she first went back to headquarters.......Geez, this isn't the time to be getting involved with that guy. You guys! Stand up! Didn't I warn you guys about conducting yourself properly!?

Harada: Ah! If it isn't Hijikata-san! Now that Hijikata-san is here, we need to start from the begining! If you ask me about when I got this scar on my stomach......

Hijikata: I've said it many times [but] I've heard already heard your [that] story before.

Heisuke: Hijikata-san! I wanna ask you...... were you really planning on eloping with her/is it true that you were really going to elope with her?

Hijikata: Ha?! Where the hell did you hear that from? At best, that's a misunderstanding since I'd never do something like that!

Souji: Eh? Is that really true? I thought that Hijikata-san wasn't the kind of person who would do something that could cause people to misunderstand in this way/who would ever do something so misleading. [or just misleading]

Heisuke: Then it's true! Hijikata-san used his position as vice-commander to elope with her, this method is too despicable!

Hijikata: Didn't I say, that I didn't do any of that! Can't you understand [Why can't you understand that]!

Saito: Exactly. If the Vice-Commander wanted to take Yukimura, he would not employ such callow and clumsy tricks, rather he would adopt a more complex and sophisticated course of action [tactics...?].

Hijikata:......Oi, Saito, are you trying to protect me or kill me? Give me a clear-cut position [clear answer]!

Saito: What are you saying. I will always be on the vice-commander's side. [literally: i will forever stand with/at the vice-commander's side whenever]

Hijikata: It's great that your on my side......

Souji: Right now it's pointless to say anything to Hajime-kun. Because regardless of what you say to hajime-kun, his expression won't change even though he's actually already completely drunk.

Hijikata: to actually like to say this kind of things, anyway it's you guys' fault that he's [this?] drunk!

Kazama: You came at just the right time (pours wine). Hijikata. Answer me. What kind of intentions do you have towards my wife who you have confined to your headquarters?

Hijikata: What kind of intentions [what do you mean by intentions]? Why should I answer you?

Souji: Isn't there a reason? Hijikata-san has said himself that he likes women from Edo.

Kazama: What? Then it's true.......

Hijikata: What "it's true" nonsense ! Souji! Quit always saying such misleading things!

Heisuke: Ah~ so it's like that, Hijikata-san's aiming for her too? Despite how he was so strict over a mere mistake!

Hijikata: I'm telling you, I wasn't planning on doing that......!

Harada: But to secretly protect her......

Hijiakta hey wait! When did I do that!

Kazama: I see. So it was like that. (picks up sword) Hijikata..... even if it costs me all of my pride and dignity/honour, I will have you buried here today/I will kill you today!

Hijikata: don't misunderstand me [don't misunderstand/quit misunderstanding]! She was allowed to stay at headquarters for the sake of/for the purpose finding Kodo-san, because of that, she was given the identity of a page.......

Souji: But don't you call her every few days to your room to have her make you tea? A lone man and a woman in a room, in the end, who knows what might have happened~ [between them?] [depending on the audio i'll make thr second sentence longer/shorter]

Kazama: What.... [very] good/great Hijikata, to go as far as to use/to actually make use of your position to do this sort of thing!! I will not spare you! this opportunity just arrived [this is a golden opportunity/the perfect chance?]! We'll settle this over wine/drinking!

Hijikata: HA?! why did this happen?!

Heisuke DAMN IT~~~~!!!! it turns out that Hijikata-san is a rival (in love)————！！！！ Oi, Kazama! We have a temporary alliance! Hijikata-san! We're going to drink to decide this!

Saito: The Vice-commander and Yukimura....!? Ah.... What is the truth to this emotion buried deep within my heart [what is the meaning to this emotion buried deep within my heart]? Without drinking, I can't calm/dispel my resentment!!

Harada: Although it is important to respect that her personal opinions...... if we're using wine to determine a victor, I will accept this challenge!

Hijikata: I didn't say any of that, you're getting it all wrong!!! You guys, listen to me!

【END】

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image swiped from suruga-ya... i will definitely be rephrasing most of the 2nd half of track 2 for more... conversational word sense. couldn't think of how to make things sound natural when i posted this but i'll get that done along with all the necessary editing later when i get to making my srt file for this drama.... aiming to have the subtitles done for next month (currently working on the files now).

also, next month im planning on mostly ssl game content... and to have the remainder of all Zuisouroku game content posted in may... (i now officially have enough tl+imags posts queued til the end of may).

stay safe ppl!

(p.s. in case you didn’t see my psa, i’m sharing a number of hakuoki vids and art books. full list is on my tumblr page “stuff i have”)

#hakuoki #hakuouki #hakuoki zuisouroku #hakuoki drama translation #hakuoki drama cd

44 notes · View notes

vxlkyrieee · 5 years

Text

scars and speculation

Bruce Wayne x female reader

Word Count: 3899 words

Warnings: violence, sexual references

Song Prompt: Beautiful, by Bazzi

I thought I'd do something different and convey a younger Bruce Wayne, when he's still sort of a rookie at being Batman. That includes the fact that no one in Gotham knows who (or what rather) Batman is. And the GCPD, excluding Captain Gordon, are kinda hostile to him.

Bruce is completely and utterly done. He sipped his fifth flute of champagne, and could finally feel the drowsing effects of the alcohol. Not that he needed it. Alfred's earlier attempts to touch up the darkened circles underneath Bruce's eyes with powder, were enough to discern that he was tired.

The past 6 months had been hard for the recently developed vigilante. It had only been an hour into the charity gala, but boy did it feel like years. Years that created a hardened, though exhausted hero with a bat on his chest. Not that the GCPD would call him a hero in the first place. Bruce was, what, only 26? Bruce would complain that he felt well and truly into his mid-fifties.

The stiff tuxedo he was forced to wear at these kind of events, was not helping either. He would run his fingers through his hair right about now, if it weren't for the gel that made sure not a strand on his head fell out of place. He wishes to be left alone at the moment, silently waiting for a particular guest. He had called her to invite her personally, wanting to delve back into their past tonight. For all he knows, she hasn't arrived yet. He's been glancing at the door all night so far, with no sign of her beautiful face. And she was beautiful.

The way Bruce remembers her is with her hair braided back to show off her cheekbones, with a smile on her face. In fact, it was the brightest, most heavenly smile he can remember. Besides his mother's of course.

He sighs, and sets down the bubbly alcohol. Just as he does so, a man much older than him, approaches Bruce with his chin held quite high. Oh, God. Not another asshole with a business proposal. He could do without the sophisticated talk of philanthropic plans and economic concerns right now.

Attempting to absolutely avoid this man, Bruce swiftly spots a woman around his age. She was familiar to him, a regular at his galas and charity balls. Whenever he seemed to be stuck in boring conversations with fellow businessmen, he opted to flirt with her, just to ensure he was steered clear of anyone else. She was brunette, hazel-eyed and pretty-faced.

Bruce makes his way towards her, readying his expression with a sultry smirk. She notices him and her eyes immediately light up.

"Good evening,-" Shit. What was her name again? Bruce is too tired for this. "-Miss. Fancy seeing you here."

She smiles, and doesn't seem to scrutinise Bruce's mistake.

"Looking handsome as always, Mr Wayne. How are you?"

His eyes scan the rest of the room as he ponders on his answer. His icy blue eyes catch a glimpse of a hauntingly familiar figure. "Sorry, pardon me," he says as he excuses himself from the conversation. If she looks offended, he doesn't take notice.

He follows the confident figure hungrily, noticing how her feminine hips sway all too recognisably. The black silk of her designer fabric was cut low, exposing the perfectly etched muscles in her back. Surprisingly, her skin was not as smooth as he remembered. It was engraved by little scars, which brought a tang of familiarity to his stomach.

It had been 7 years since they saw each other, Bruce being 19 at the time. He remembers clearly the voices of (y/n) and her parents, filled with pure hostility, when he had climbed her window and eavesdropped as a teenager. Her mother and father had pulled her into a conversation she was dreading. Her mother had said, "(y/n), you can't continue doing this."

An apprehensive Bruce, listening from (y/n)'s bedroom window, was already conscious of the subject matter. The nervous tension in his gut made it almost impossible to hang onto the window sill any longer. Especially when his palms were sweating so bad, he had to wipe them every 2 seconds.

"What? Being in love? And why not?," (y/n) replies, not bothering to look up from her phone.

Her father answers with a stern voice that could have rivalled the terrifying, booming voice of Batman.

"Bruce is a Wayne. You know that (l/n) Corp and Wayne Enterprises could never work together. You can no longer continue your relationship with Bruce Wayne. I forbid it. He is more or less your rival."

But that was not enough to scare (y/n) and Bruce into partition. They were a perfect match. The spark between them just kept burning, the little flickers bursting into modest flames. The warmth grew, blazing in the dark with such ferocity, almost everything in their worlds were aflame. The inferno ripped right through their love with orange, gold and red heartbeats, extracting a heat that they had never felt before. Her fire and his fire clashed relentlessly, but the gasoline soon ceased to fuel the conflagration. They loved and indulged too violently, creating an even more violent path of destruction. As a result of the tension, drama, and unwanted distance between them, their relationship had begun to falter. The media's attention and constant flash of cameras that seemed to linger around the two young heirs, had brought about a plethora of stress and anxiety. This in turn, pulled the two young lovers apart, despite the strong magnetic force that fastened them together.

The flames eventually died down, leaving nothing but rubble, plumes of charcoal smoke and noxious ash. Their intimacy was similar to a matchstick; lit up in a flash, and burnt down to the end of the stick just as quick. They were a perfect match. Maybe that was why they burnt out.But they were younger then. Perhaps now that their maturity had further blossomed, they would find that spark again, and instead of letting it die, they would tend to it like a fireplace in a chimney. Slowly. Steadily. Appreciating the warmth that each of them brings, like frigid hands hovering over the glowing embers in a hearth.

Bruce continues to pursue her. The clicking of her heels becomes the only sound he can hear, despite the relentless chatter, and the blood roaring in his ears. He's almost running now, a few "excuse me"s slipping from his lips as he slides between conversations to get to her.

His eyes trace the outline of her body, from the way her hair flows as she walks, to the curve of her pinched-in waist.

"(y/n)!" He calls out shamelessly, earning a few surprised gasps from around him. She stops in her tracks, that rich, deep voice ringing like wedding bells in her head. It had been too long since she's heard it, somehow sounding several octaves deeper than it once was.

Her eyes widen, but she quickly masks her surprise as she turns to face him. As soon as she does, she identifies his face immediately, and wow, has he grown up. His shoulders are much broader, carrying a much more muscular figure. His jaw is still as strong as she recalls, but God, he's so much taller. His many years spent abroad from Gotham have certainly paid off. She turns away again, making her way in the opposite direction to him with a little more speed.

She wants to play hard to get, does she? Bruce honestly didn't mind chasing her. He only desired to feel her lips on his skin anew, to refresh his most heartfelt memoirs of her. The way that dress fits perfectly on her tonight is amazing. It emphasised every serpentine curve of her physique that Bruce once fell in love with. Just one look at her, left him yearning for her touch once again. Alfred takes notice of Bruce's desperate expression, and it reminds him of the teenaged boy that he drove to his first date. The one who had been so anxious to treat (y/n) right.

"Are you alright, Sir? Should I offer a distraction?" he asks politely, wondering whether or not he should have washed Bruce's cape earlier today.

"No Alfred. This isn't Bat business," he answered, eyes still glued to (y/n)'s whereabouts.

"Thank heavens. Let's just say the suit hasn't quite recovered from your last escapade in Gotham's sewers," Alfred comments, discreetly moving elsewhere.

Bruce follows her outside, onto one of the balconies, noting how the breeze sweeps through her (h/c) locks. She stares vacantly out into the skyline, her back still turned to the millionaire - or "billionaire," as Bruce likes to put it. Millionaires are so last year. - Bruce had to admit, tonight was quite stunning.

With the arrival of his long-lost lover, the smokey haze that always has Gotham in it's clutches, seems to dissipate. It clears the way for the diamond-like stars, and the over-sized moon that appears a little too big to be normal.

"You look... spectacular," Bruce muses. She leisurely spins on her heels to face him, taking in his features with a furrowed brow. "Thank you. As do you," she replies, though her voice sounds somewhat aloof. There is an awkward silence between the two, that makes the particles in the air cluster together, creating a thick sense of metallic edginess. So thick, Bruce could smelt it, and braid the molten tension into a gleaming necklace, that would sit so lovely on (y/n)'s neck.

"I have coordinated with (l/n) Corp, and have managed to convince my parents to donate $100,000 to your cause," (y/n) blurts; a nervous habit. It was a quirk of her's that Bruce was too accustomed to.

"Thank you," he replies. "That is very much appreciated."

The vexatiousness that tinged the air, begun to bug Bruce, so he sought to break it. Clear the air and start anew, just as he intended when he invited her. "(y/n). I-I have missed you," he admits. His voice takes on a tone that is hopeless. Bruce is never hopeless. His persona is always perceived as determined, adamant and stubborn. Bruce had anticipated that his confession would ease her protective appearance, and let her guarding walls crumble for him, like they once did. That was not the case.

"I thought you said you wanted to try and revive what we had when we were younger," (y/n) recalls, her voice harsher now. She was upset, and Bruce could tell.

What the hell did I do wrong?

"I did. I do," He responds, voice oozing confidence and sincerity. She looks him up and down, quirking an eyebrow.

"So why are you still having sexual relations with other women? I've heard the rumours, Bruce. I might be a year your junior, but I'm not stupid."

"What are you talking about?"

Her lipstick stained lips pull up in a slight sneer, displaying glinting teeth. "You and that brunette chick. Me being an old flame that you're ashamed of. Don't play dumb with me." Bruce mentally punched himself. In the face. With a brick. Maybe I should've read the Gotham Gazette. He shakes his head and furrows his brow. He bites his lip in frustration, and as much as she finds it attractive, she ignores it.

He takes one of her hands, wanting to tell her the gossip isn't true. But her words escaped her mouth before his did. "Fuck, Bruce. I can't do this right now. Have fun with your harlot," she spat.

(y/n) shoves his chest aggressively. It doesn't hurt him physically, but the amount of force she put into that push, lets Bruce know just how she felt about those rumours. And it pained him to know she thought they were true. Just convince her. Apologise.

Unknown to Bruce, (y/n) often spends her nights as a vigilante, just like he does. 19-year-old Bruce's words still haunt her, encouraging her to take up a mantle that he would be proud of. "They need something to fear," he had said. And he was nothing short of correct. So when she pulls on her suit, and it still reminds her of Bruce, she huffs in annoyance.

But there's talk of a 'Batman' on Gotham's streets. And she's sure it's Bruce. It has to be him. She vividly remembers the day he decided a bat was a symbol of fear. One that could manifest his triumph over the concept of fear itself.

(y/n) changes into her suit, and goes on patrol to blow off some steam. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, her shoes make minimal noise, as her dark-pigmented cape billows behind her. Her eyes scan the complex webwork of Gotham's alleyways. Her ears pick up the distinct sound of a gunshot, not too far from her location. She proceeds in that direction to scope out the predicament.

In spite of the anger currently flowing from her skin in waves, the pit of her stomach filled with pining. She had longed for the moment of reuniting with Bruce for far too long. The constant news of Gotham's playboy and his ever-changing flavour of the month, only left (y/n) to wallow in jealously. He had sounded honest when he called to invite her to the gala. When he suggested starting again. But the most recent gossip had been released only yesterday, showcasing Bruce Wayne in all his womanising glory. And for a minute she thinks the rumours could just be bullshit. Something that Jack Ryder or Vicki Vale forced upon the city that is obsessed with the Wayne family.

But her obstinance pulled her presumptions back to its initial concept. No, there were photos. And many of them, for that matter. Her mind wanders back, to tug at memories, a certain image being burned in the back of her mind. The brunette beauty smiling, seemingly caught in the middle of a genuine laugh, while Bruce plants a firm kiss to her cheek.

She soon finds the source of the gunshot, being a middle-aged mugger. The mask he wears implies that he works for Roman Sionis. His build is bulky, strong. But the way he carries himself suggests he's slow. There are two others accompanying him, though they're smaller. One of them has the pistol on his hip, walking up and down the alley in a cocky manner. The other clearly had no hair, the dim streetlamp casting a gleam on his shiny scalp.

She takes herself through a quick plan in her head; take out the one with the gun, the bald one, then the big one. She leans over the edge of the rooftop, waiting for the right time to pounce.

"(y/n)!" a deep voice calls from behind her. It's Bruce. But this Bruce is different.

He wears a leather cape and a fearful cowl. The thugs below her, look up at the roof to investigate the mysterious voice.

"What was that?" dumbass number one says. "Up there!" dumbass number two answers. Great. There goes my element of surprise. (y/n) mutters something under her breath about bats being "stubborn", and "not tonight, motherfucker."

With a roll of her pretty eyes, she still manages to jump and knock out number one, before he shoots. She punches number two in the jaw, and ouch, that hurt more than usual. She punches him again anyway, and wow he's more resilient than she thought. He doesn't even seem to get dizzy.

Oh no, number three - the big one - is fast approaching. She uses her cape to stun him, the fabric falling around her like wings. She gives a good punch to number two's temple, knocking him cold into unconsciousness. The big one hasn't come back to his senses yet, opening an opportunity for a beatdown. She delivers excruciating punch after excruciating punch, causing blood to seep from her bare knuckles. He isn't quite finished with, when (y/n) stops, but Batman is sure to take care of it himself.

Just as Bruce - no, Batman - opens his mouth to talk, an officer speaks up from a megaphone. "We're locking you both up! Hands up and surrender!" (y/n) puts her hands up in defeat, but Bruce doesn't give in so easily. He pulls her body flush with his, and readies his grapple gun. (y/n) punches Bruce in the face, pushing him away from her. That's gonna leave a mark.

The GCPD officer is quick to react. "Don't even try! We've got the whole block and rooftops surrounded with armed men!" Batman follows (y/n)'s actions, surrendering.

***

"Well, this is a nice change of scenery."

"It's a prison cell, (y/n)"

"It's called sarcasm, Bruce." An awkward silence weighs down on the stale air of the cell as (y/n) shuffles further away from Bruce.

Bruce rubs at his now bruised cheekbone, whilst (y/n) examines the gore on her knuckles. "(y/n), you know those rumours aren't true. I know you do." He looks up at her, his ghostly gaze on her face. Even with a mask covering her eyes, she still looked exquisite. The mask is crumpled up where her eyebrows are still scrunched. She huffs, and as she begins to speak her voice turns brittle, lips trembling in the slightest.

"Goddammit! Can't you see? The universe is obviously trying to tell us that this is not meant to be. I came back so you would come after me, but I guess it's not me you're looking for."

Bruce feels bad. He feels like an absolute idiot for making her feel this way. Whether or not the rumours are his fault, he doesn't care. But it's his reputation that hurts her. And he hates himself for letting the press weave lies into the web of his life.

"(y/n), listen to me. Do you think I care what anyone thinks about me? Or you, for that matter? I'll defy the fucking universe if it means we can try again. If we could forget everyone else. Forget the lies. All you have to do is trust me." He reaches out his gloved hand towards her, hoping with all his heart that she'll take it.

This doesn't even come close to a proper apology, but he prays to God that she'll just give him a sign that she does, in fact trust him.

She had never, even in her younger years, experienced this kind of poetic fervour from Bruce. He wasn't the type to be head over heels in love. Bruce had always been distant, a little less around her, but nonetheless, he was distant. To think she was the catalyst of this sentimental paroxysm, left her homesick for his heart. She longed to be the centre of his heart once more.

She takes his hand gingerly, though with her brow still furrowed in frustration. It was no exaggeration to say that she was still mad at Bruce. Yet his confession slightly awoken the drunk-in-love teenager she once was. She pulls back suddenly when they realise that someone is watching.

"If you two are done with chemistry class, I'd like to get you outta there. It's been a helluva night for me, and I'm sure you want to get home too." It's Captain Gordon, and just like Bruce, the circles under his eyes are prominent.

This city's too harsh on it's protectors. Hell, even the gargoyles that watch over Gotham with stony eyes, look exhausted.

A short redheaded girl beside Gordon - presumably his daughter - gives a friendly wave to Batman, like they've met before. By the way he smirks and waves back, they probably have. Batman nods to Jim respectively, with a heavy "thank you."

With a jingle of keys, and absence of other officers, Captain Gordon releases the two rookie vigilantes. Barbara, as she's introduced herself, has taken a liking to (y/n), even gifting her a small hug as the heroine leaves with Batman. Bruce manages to convince (y/n) to bear him company, back to the manor. Alfred has informed Bruce that the party has died down, only a few charity workers left to assist the butler in his clean up. So it's easy for him to sneak (y/n) into the house via the BatCave, and escort her to his room.

He had brought her back here to "talk." Yet the only sounds that pervade the lavish room, is the uncomfortable taciturnity, and the 'clink' of armour plates being removed. Bruce moves into his ensuite and changes into sweatpants, not bothering to find a shirt. He finds a black silk dress, folded over on his towel rack. It was the dress that he had found so ravishing when placed over the top of her body. He takes the dress, and exits the bathroom to take it to her.

She sits on the edge of the bed, pulling off the tights of her suit, her armour plates already scattered on the floor beneath her feet. She looks to him, now only clad in her undergarments; A pair of too-thin lace underwear and a black bra. Her skin was adorned with tiny scars, old and new, scattered like petite brush strokes of scar tissue, glossed over the canvas of her soft skin. He felt as if he knew her flaws like his own scars.

To anyone else, her battle-earned imperfections would seem ghastly and confronting. To Bruce, it painted her too beautiful for his words to express. Not because he was stereotypically blinded by love, but because it meant she was like him; damaged.

He places the dress on his bed beside her, and watches how she stares at his bare torso for a bit too long to be friendly. He isn't bothered by it. To be frank, he stares at her too. From the valley in her bra, to the way her hips have become fuller since they last met. It was too difficult for Bruce to contain himself for an apology. Did making love to her, count as an apology? He chooses to utilise his words instead, however dorky they may seem.

"You know, your bloody knuckles are sort of beautiful."She quirks an eyebrow and smirks, before supplying a comment just as dorky. "The bruise on your cheek brings out the blue in your eyes."

It isn't long before the two are choking on their own laughter, struggling to suppress their dying giggles. Bruce was sure that the remainder of party-goers downstairs could probably hear them. (y/n) suddenly has an unexpected outburst of chuckling, before Bruce covers her mouth with his hand, chuckling himself.

For that moment it feels like he's teenage Bruce again. Not the Bruce who trained overseas for so long. But the Bruce that attended Gotham academy, where everyone knew he belonged to (y/n). The amusement finally dissipates, but (y/n) is still smiling like an idiot. Bruce has that Wayne-inherited smirk plastered onto his handsome face.

He places his hand on her jaw, cradling her face so that she's looking up at him with (e/c) eyes."I'm sorry. I was wrong. I should've-" Bruce is cut off by (y/n), who is quick to blame herself. "No. You were right. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that."

Bruce chuckles. "Oh God, please don't start another argument" She smiles, showing off perfect pearly whites. "Now that we can agree on." (y/n) leans forward, and Bruce brings her closer. He moves the hair from her face gently, and reunites their lips. It felt perfect. It felt right because there was no one there to pull them apart. No one to spit lies in their faces. No one except for them. And for now, that's how they wanted to stay.

Taglist: (names with strikethrough means I couldn’t tag)

@bookish-and-shy @avengingnatasha

#batman #gcpd #alfred pennyworth #scars #bruce wayne #gotham #gala #dc comics #bruce wayne x reader #jim gordon #barbara gordon

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thewritingcaptain · 5 years

Text

Bloody Thing and Broken Wings

It’s been six years since the Snap. In a world where Tony Stark never met Peter Parker and said hero wasn’t snapped, he had no motivation to go back and reverse it. But what happens when an injured Spider-themed vigilante crashes into his daughter’s balcony in the middle of the night?

I’ve been sitting on this one for a while, but it’s become really popular elsewhere so I decided I would move it here, too. I’ll probably transfer all my stories over to here as well eventually, but it might be a while, admittedly. There’s a lot.

Also, I can’t take credit for the title on this one, although I love it dearly. Anyway, I won’t blabber too much. I hope you all enjoy! Chapter 1 below the cut!

He's sleeping when it happens.

Well, if he's being honest, when is he ever sleeping? Rarely, even these days. So no, he's not sleeping. He's laying in bed with his wife, holding her close and wishing he was sleeping when it happens.

The sound of lots of glass shattering from a short distance away is what jolts him up. Tony bolts up in the bed, hissing out a panicked breath through his teeth and already letting the nanotechnology take shape around him.

"Tony-" Pepper is sitting up too, her eyes wide as she stares at him. "What-"

"Stay here until I'm sure it's safe," he orders without waiting for her to finish, and is gone from the room after his daughter in an instant.

This is why he hates coming into the city. Pepper had to come in for a big board meeting, and since Morgan also wanted to come, and he's the one who'd have the time to take care of her… well, here he is. But when he's at home, at their cabin in the woods, far removed from the rest of the world, life-endangering shit like this doesn't happen. No one even knows they exist out there except for a select handful of people, and certainly no one does anything crazy or dangerous like attack a tower and bust out a window.

Not that he's sure it's a window necessarily that was knocked out, but a direct attack is the most likely option. He's always had a lot of enemies, and now a lot of people blame him (and/or Cap) for the Snap. He'd done the best he could, though, and it wasn't his fault Cap didn't listen to him when it mattered. He knows that; the general public didn't necessarily know it, though.

He was fine with that. Was used to living that way. And now, after six years, the worst of it was over. It was awful, but the world had started spinning again, had picked up and kept moving. He had been spared from the worst of the grief going on around him; no one majorly important to him had been dusted. He knew people, sure, many of them heroes, but he had Pepper and Happy and Rhodey and most of the team were still around. So while he had moments where he was upset, and he'd certainly been affected, he isn't half as bad off as most people. If anything he is grateful for it to an extent, for giving him the possibility of the future he now has.

A future that's possibly now in danger with that loud crash.

He runs into Morgan's room, expecting to find his daughter probably freaking out or hiding in the bathroom to avoid whatever made that sound. Instead he finds an empty room.

"Morgan?" Tony shouts. If there's someone in the Tower, if someone took her-

"Daddy!" His little girl's voice comes from outside of her room, somewhere else on the floor. Tony rushes out and into the living area, which of course, has a glass wall to the outside, and maybe that's where it came from, and Morgan is out there, although he has no idea why and if someone is out there with her he's going to-

All of his thoughts skip to a stop when he sees the sight in front of him.

Morgan is there, all right. She's kneeling in a pile of glass, but she appears to be okay. The person she's kneeling beside, however, is not. A crumpled form of a person in red and blue. Blood is spreading rapidly underneath them, but Morgan seems too preoccupied with the masked vigilante to notice it's getting on her too.

"Morgan?" Tony calls cautiously.

Her little head snaps up, wide brown eyes full of heartfelt despair fixing on him immediately. "Daddy! Help! It's Spider-Man, but he's hurt!"

Tony stifles the groan in his throat at the look in his daughter's eyes. Spider-Man. The only hero post-snap, really. Sure, the Avengers were around still, most of them, and they'd come to duty if they were called, but… they'd failed. None of them really wanted a repeat. Although considering just how badly they'd failed, it probably wasn't possible for it to happen again on that scale.

Especially now. The stones are gone; Thanos destroyed them shortly after the Snap. Cap and Scott had come up with a half-baked plan of time travel, a little over a year ago now, but Tony hadn't been able to figure out how to make it work. In truth, he didn't really want to. It wasn't worth the risks, not for him. And so the Avengers had mostly retired, and stayed retired. Spider-Man was the only one who could still be found swinging around all the areas he always had, although he'd expanded to cover more ground in recent years. He could be found almost anywhere in the city, now, but Tony remembers the days when he was still just a Queens superhero. He's always kept tabs on him - probably more diligently in recent years, what with his lack of old preoccupations and also because he knew inside that if by some twist of fate he decided to go bad, he was the only one around who could be close enough and willing to try to stop him. His fears in that area had always proved to be folly, but he didn't stop.

He's also saved his neck a few times from keeping those tabs on him, in everything from keeping the authorities away to sending them in depending on the situation and the danger of it. He was also the one who'd anonymously donated his new suit. Still, no one knows that but him.

The suit he'd given to the vigilante was in shreds, based on the look of it. Lord only knew what he'd gotten into or how he'd ended up here, but Tony knows he has to act fast, or there'll be no saving him.

"Daddy!" Morgan cries, more insistently, apparently mistaking his thoughts for hesitation. "Please!"

"I'm coming," Tony responds immediately, walking over and carefully crouching beside the vigilante. "But you gotta go, hun. Back to bed with you." He tries to shoo her gently away, but the little girl dodged his attempts.

"I can't!" she exclaims. "He's stuck to me!" She holds up her arm, which indeed has the hero's hand clamped around it, and gives it a slight shake to show she's telling the truth. His hand doesn't budge at all.

Tony sighs. He knows he could just make her take the jacket off and be unstuck, but… Spider-Man is her favorite hero. He knows trying to make her go anywhere will be greeted with a tantrum that will know no bounds. "Okay," he concedes. "Well, I need to move him to be able to do anything for him, Mo. Why don't you grab his legs and we'll haul him to the Medbay-"

"No!" Morgan looks at him like he's insane. "You can't take him to the Medbay! All the doctors and nurses will see his face!"

"Yes, but they'll also save his life," Tony explains as patiently as he can. "He's really hurt. I don't think I'm qualified-"

"But you're Iron Man! You've been hurt before and patched yourself up! Mommy has helped! You guys can do it together!" Tony frowns, unconvinced, but she pushes on, giving him the puppy eyes. "Please, Daddy! You can't trust them! Not with that, not without his permission!"

It's the last part that makes him pause. If it were him, he'd be pissed to find out that someone had exposed him without his permission, even if it were to save his life, he admits to himself, begrudgingly. Sighing, he nods. "Grab his legs, then. We'll get him into a room and-"

"Oh my God!" Tony looks up to find Pepper standing in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of her with horror. Of course she didn't stay in the bedroom until he gave her the all clear like he told her too. She's just too stubborn for that. "Tony, what the hell is going on?"

"I don't-" he starts, but Morgan cuts him off, springing to her feet.

"He crashed through the wall, Mom! It looked like he was already asleep when he fell." Then she raises her arm, beaming, showing Pepper the same thing she had Tony. "Look! He's stuck to me!"

Tony and Pepper exchange a look. They both know that the Spider-Man is not exactly asleep but neither of them really want to say it. So Tony clears his throat and asks instead, "How did you see what happened, Morgan?"

The six year old shrugs. "I had come out to the kitchen to get a snack. He crashed in while I was on my way back."

Her parents exchange another look, but neither of them wants to ask her what she was really doing up right now and they both know they don't really have the time to waste interrogating her. So he just nods and gestures Pepper over, and together they all carefully lift the unconscious hero and carry him to the nearest guest bedroom. The only thing they get in response is a feeble groan.

Well, that's a good sign. At least he's still alive. But he won't be for much longer if they don't staunch that bleeding.

Tony looks over at his wife and daughter. At some point, the hero's hand had fallen off of his daughter's arm, and now Pepper is kneeling in front of her, looking over her for cuts and making sure none of the blood on her pajama pants is actually hers. Tony lets out a long breath, running his hands through his hair. This is a bad idea, and he needs help Tony isn't sure he can satisfactorily provide, but he doesn't have much choice, now. Even if he hadn't agreed to Morgan to take care of him himself, it's the middle of the night. A little after three am, a quick glance at the nearest clock confirms. Even if he decides to call an outside doctor, it would be too long before any of them get here.

"Take Morgan and get her cleaned up and back to bed," he tells Pepper, stifling a sigh. "I'm going to see what I can do here. I'll call for you if I need you."

Pepper nods, throwing one last worried glance at the vigilante spread out and bleeding on their guest bed before picking Morgan up and sweeping out of the room.

Tony retrieves the nearest first aid kit and returns to the bed. This is the uncomfortable part. At the very least, he and Pepper and probably Morgan too will end up seeing the masked hero's face. Not to mention with the extent of his wounds, he's going to have to undress him. He knows how to get the suit off - he designed it, after all - but he feels semi-bad for invading his privacy. Still, it's be revealed to (and be seen nearly naked by) a total stranger or die from his injuries, so assuming the young hero has any sense, he knows what he would have picked were he conscious.

So Tony hits the spider emblem on the chest and watches all the bits of it that are still cohesively attached un-suction from his body, then carefully maneuvers him out of the suit. There's some faint moans coming from above him, but he ignores them for the most part.

Once it's off, he simply tosses the remains of the suit to the floor. The room is already going to need a major cleaning after this anyway, and he'll deal with it when he gets the time.

He approaches the top of the bed again. He's left his mask on up until this point, but if the way it's soaked with blood is any indication, the man underneath has at least one head wound. Leaving it on is not an option. So, as gently as he can, he grips the edge of the mask and pulls it off.

Then he freezes.

Under the mask is… a kid.

Well, he's not probably legally a kid, but even if he isn't, he's definitely not very old. Tony would bet the tower he's standing in right now that he's not even old enough to drink.

Just his luck. Although whether it's good or bad, he isn't sure yet.

And then he sets to work on him. First stopping all the bleeding he can find, then cleaning the wounds, sewing them up if needed, bandaging them, setting the bones that he can see are broken. He doesn't know what Spider-Man got into, but it clearly messed him up good. Broken ribs, a leg that seems to be shattered in a way he doesn't know if he can even set properly, burns and lacerations all over, a nasty head wound, and multiple other wounds that appear to be similar to gunshot wounds but are cleaner and with no clearly defined enter and exit holes.

When he's done, he's a mess. His clothes are probably ruined, what with the amount of blood all over him, and he's also got it all the way up to his elbows, literally. Still, the kid is still breathing, and the worst of his injuries are taken care of, so he considers it a win.

He goes into the bathroom and scrubs his arms off the best he can, knowing there's no point in changing clothes before cleaning the kid up but still wanting rid of the nasty feeling of another person's blood coating his hands. So he washes his hands before filling up a small tub with soapy water and returning to the kid on the bed.

He sets the tub down and carefully gets the comforter, which had soaked up most of the blood, out from under the kid so that he's no longer laying in it, then tosses it to the floor with the ruined suit before laying him back down. There is no point in cleaning him up while he's laying in a puddle of his own blood.

It's while he's working on cleaning him up that Pepper finally returns. She stops in the doorway and looks apprehensively over the scene in front of her. "How is he?" she finally asks, quietly.

Tony looks up at her when she speaks and then turns his attention back to the kid in front of him. "Young," he murmurs, before he can really think about it. "And… it's pretty bad, Pep, but I think he'll make it."

"You think?" She glances at him, brow furrowed.

Tony simply sighs and looks at her, pained. "He lost a lot of blood, okay? And I have no idea what the inside looks like. He could be bleeding internally or something and I wouldn't have any idea." He looks back down at him, brushing a lock of wet hair absentmindedly from his eyes. "He's so young. I never expected…" He lets the sentence trail off, realizing he has no idea what he'd actually expected, but this wasn't it.

Pepper always seems to know what he's thinking without him actually having to say it, though. She just shakes her head. "He's probably barely an adult," she agrees, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wonder if anyone is missing him right now."

"No way to know until he wakes up," Tony says. He sighs, rubbing his eyes once. "Help me move him to a clean guestroom? Preferably where we can keep an eye on him." Closer to them meant closer to Morgan, too, he knew, but he needs to keep an eye on him. If something changes before morning… Anyway, it's not that he's worried that the man in the suit would hurt her, but more so that she'll sneak in and bother him, but there isn't much he can do about that besides have Jarvis keep an eye on her room too and alert him to it. Hopefully he can catch her before she can bother him, come morning.

"Of course."

A few minutes later, they have Spider-Man settled into a clean guest room down the hall from where they're sleeping, and have the other one cleaned up as best as they can do. Tony knows he's out of stuff to do, that he can and should go back to bed and hopefully actually sleep, but he just can't do it. He's got too many thoughts swirling around his head. He showers, thinking maybe that will make him feel better, and maybe help him relax enough to sleep, but no such luck. So after he checks on everyone else in the tower, he does the only thing he can do: he goes to his workshop and goes to work.

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awed-frog · 5 years

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Idk much about uk/eu politics but I have a question.. is this correct: us "left-wing" = uk "left-wing" = eu "left-wing." What about right wing

That’s an extremely complicated question, and I’m not sure I can do it justice, but I’m going to do my best, because it’s a really important issue.

The joke answer is: the US left is not like the European left because the US doesn’t have a left.

The tl;dr answer is: politics depends on people and how they view the world, and those things are shaped by history and geography, so every country’s going to have a slightly (or very) different version of left and right.

For a longer and possibly boring answer, see below.

Leaving aside the fact academics fight about what left and right even are (personally, I think it’s like pornography: you recognize them when you see them) and that there’s tons of theories out there on what makes people left-wing or right-wing - in a nutshell, the main characteristic of a ‘traditional’ left like the European left is opposition to the status quo and a wish to distribute wealth more equally. After all, in their modern sense, political parties were born around the time of the French revolution, when those people who supported the king and the Church deliberately placed themselves on the right-side benches of the Assembly (right being, of course, a synonym for ‘honest’, ‘just’ and everything else) so that those standing with ‘the people’ and demanding change were forced to sit on the left.

Now - as far as I can tell, one big difference between the US left and the European left is that the European left was shaped by the unions and Communism in a way the US left wasn’t.

See, in Europe you get two waves of ‘opposition to the status quo’: the first revolutions, like - arguably - the French revolution, were mainly middle-class people being fed up and demanding the same privileges the aristocracy had. Nobody really cared about ‘the people’; the question was, “How come we - the merchants, the clerks, the lawyers - the generally hard-working and generally educated and wealthy-ish people of this fine country, are still seen like second-class citizens because we haven’t got the right blood?”. Meanwhile, the ‘real people’, those at the very bottom of society, were too uneducated, politically unaware and scattered about to demand anything for themselves.

All that changed when factories became a thing. Suddenly, instead of a bunch of exploited farmhands grumbling about their fate and being reprimanded in some village church, you had hundreds - or thousands - of workers crammed together and chatting about how miserable their lives were. That’s how you have the conditions to truly change something - bring about a lasting revolution instead of the disorderly, ultimately useless revolts farm labourers sometimes staged. All you need is a savvy political leader, and for various reasons, it was Communism who provided that.

That’s how the modern European left was born: in the factories, among the workers, supported and nurtured by union leaders, and later inspired and funded directly by the Soviet Union. In most countries, politics became a three-way street - privilege-defending right-wing parties which gradually shifted to fascism, a combative left with a minor split between anarchists and communists, and a Christian ‘middle’ desperately trying to stay afloat and losing its soul in the process.

(Religion is by nature conservative, but while many Church leaders sided - openly or implicitly - with Nazism and Fascism, many priests fought on the other side, forming an uneasy truce with communists. Today, this inner conflict is far from over, especially in the Catholic Church.)

And then, after the war, when the European left seemed so strong the US firebombed Greece and formed a plan to invade Italy if voters decided on a Communist government, disaster struck: the Soviet Union invaded Czechoslovakia, and we started to learn what the Soviet Union really was.

It’s impossible to underestimate what a shock that was for left-wing voters, and particularly for those who’d fought in the Resistance during WW2 and had been calling themselves communists - with great pride - for generations. For decades, the Soviet Union had been an ideal - a nation built on the refusal of a murderous war, a nation of slaves butchering a corrupt and cruel royal family, a nation of new rights for everyone, of equality, of tremendous scientific and social progress. It was only in the late 60s that people in the West started to learn about the rest of it: about Stalin’s crimes, about the gulags, about the regime’s violence - everything. And at that point, everything just - collapsed.

Roughly speaking, left-wing parties split between a majority of people who wanted nothing to do with Communism anymore and a minority who still defended it (and later turned to violence). There were many, however, who simply walked away, or started to vote for other parties.

The second death blow for the European left, which, as I said, had been heavily linked to the unions and the factory workers, was the closing of those factories. This was partly inevitable, I suppose, because globalization made it much cheaper to move production out of Europe, but right-wing politicians like Margaret Thatcher were publicly and privately over the moon about it, and the entire process happened in such a way that entire communities were literally destroyed. The left, of course, tried to fight back - in the UK, strikes went on for weeks - but for a bunch of reasons, they lost; and slowly but surely, they also lost their voters, many of whom never found a job again.

(In the UK and elsewhere, many of them took a sharp turn to the right when parties on the extreme right found an easy answer to their problems: those ‘bloody foreigners’ who’d taken their jobs.)

Finally, the European left got all but obliterated when some influential left-wing politicians decided the only way back was to move ‘to the centre’ (ie, to the right) and surrender to extreme capitalism. Left-wing parties had already lost most of their traditional base (factory workers) and when people like Tony Blair took over and preached the Milton Friedman Gospel, they mostly lost the other, smaller part of their supporters (students and intellectuals) without gaining all that much in return. That’s how in many countries today you find a left wing that can still command a sizable portion of the vote but is splintered among dozens of small parties. In some cases, like France and now Italy, voters are so fed up with the lack of clear values the left is almost gone.

In the US, on the other hand, things happened very differently.

For one thing, the unions decided not to play a part in politics. For another, parties inspired by Soviet Russia were definitely a no-no. Then you’ve got the geography of the place - hundreds of small communities scattered here and there, all with different cultural values and political goals, the light of their ‘manifest destiny’ guiding them in a difficult and alienating environment. And the fact political parties in the US were born top-down instead of bottom-up. And, of course, slavery and its aftermath.

(In a nutshell: since there are always more workers than bosses, the only way for bosses to control workers is divide them into prvileged and less privileged sections so they fight among themselves instead of collaborating and asking for better working conditions. This is particularly easy to do when the less homogenous your staff is. That means that in Europe, workers solidarity was much easier to achieve - though we still got tensions, even violence, because that’s nationalism and racism for you - while in the US it was much more difficult to integrate African workers with white workers and convince them to stand together, with people on various sides, and with different motivations, insisting that what divided these groups was too significant to be overlooked.)

That’s basically why you can’t exactly compare the Democratic party, which traditionally served the interests of rich land-owners in the South, supported slavery and was born more as a lobby than what Europe would understand as a party, with the European left. They’re two different animals. One of my university professors used to say Democrats and Republicans are not about left and right at all - they were shaped by other things, and serve more as geographical and historical markers than as parties - to the point were the left wing of the Democratic party would have more in common (and vote with) the left wing of the Republican party than with the right wing of the Democratic party. And while the Democratic party slowly became more similar to the European left (for instance by aligning with the workers and supporting civil rights) the transition was never complete. In fact, a new wave of fresh tensions is happening right now: there’s very little in common between people like Joe Biden and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and in Europe they’d probably belong to different parties. From what I read, many people (especially young people) are trying to pull the party to the left, but party leaders absolutely do not want that. That’s a huge problem, especially in a country with a two-party system, and may very well cost the Democrats the 2020 election.

As for the right: as I said in some earlier post, while the left splinters, the right simply - moves more to the right. That’s been a common trend for decades, and something you can see very clearly, especially in the US and the UK, but also in France or in Italy.

(Germany seems immune - for now - but we’ll have to wait and see.)

This happens, in part, because people on the right are generally motivated by concrete goals and are ready to stomach tons of unpleasantness to get there. The millionaires funding the Republican party may not like the prospect of a trade war with China, but they’re going to keep donating because they get tax cuts in return; and Christian extremists are not enthusiastic about a President who sleeps around with prostitutes, but if he makes abortion illegal, they’ll still show up for him.

The problem with all of this is that most people, everywhere, are sort of in the middle. And now the middle is disappearing - well, the big question is, where are they going to go? Every scenario is very dangerous, because from what we’ve seen so far, there’s only four bad choices:

People keep voting for their traditional party, but do it unenthusiastically and consider it the lesser of two evils. This way, party leaders are encouraged to stay on their path, and things get steadily worse (example: the Italian left).

People vote for ‘the new face’ because they’re fed up with ‘business as usual’. This is generally a disaster, because ‘the new face’ is either someone with a precise and hidden agenda (like Berlusconi or Macron) or someone with zero experience who’s going to fuck things up, because politics is complicated (like the Italian 5* Movement) or a combination of both (arguably, Nick Clegg and the LibDems in general).

People vote for the most radical thing they find, which is usually a party on the extreme right possibly masquerading as ‘the centre’ or ‘the sensible choice’. This is the ‘protest vote’ and partly how you get Donald Trump or Marine Le Pen.

Finally, lots of people just stop voting, which empowers the extremes because if you take those with doubts or uncertainties out of the equation, you’re left with the obsessed, the stans and the nutters. In fact, considering how many people don’t vote, extreme right parties like Salvini’s Lega don’t have a lot of support, but is this good news? They’re still at the head of the government.

So there you go. I’m sorry it got so long - I hope it made sense? In short, left- and right-wing parties of different countries are likely to have stuff in common, to the point where they often work together without too much friction (as they do in the European Parliament, for instance), but it’s problematic and incorrect to say there’s a ‘universal left’ and a ‘universal right’ based on the same exact values and goals.

If you’re trying to understand whether you yourself are right-wing or left-wing, this test is always a good place to start - but you’ll need to have an opinion on a number of issues in order to answer it so that it’s truly useful to you. My advice would be to read up on the history of your own country, if possible from unbiased sources; to keep up with the news (from different sources); to discuss important issues with friends, teachers and family members - keeping an open mind and interacting even with people you don’t agree with; to accept political opinions are fluid and will change with age, or when you learn new facts; and take the time to listen to the candidates before elections so you know where they stand on stuff that matters to you (education? the climate? immigration? more jobs for young people? foreign policy? women’s rights? and so on).

#ask #politics #left and right #europe vs the us #history #political parties #long post for ts #answers and comments welcome #as i said #i'm really not an expert #especially when it comes to us politics

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1-800-444-tune · 5 years

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I have cancer ...PLEASE DONATE !!😫😪😔😞

HOME

This is my main blog, I mostly do Tarot and other divination services on here, and most often it is for FREE. Which, this is NOT fair to me, but none of ya 'll know about my struggle.. bug it is real hear me out, yo.

ABOUT ME

I am nearly 30 years old now and I was actually first off diagnosed with Ovarian cysts at the age as young as 14 yrs old, yes, I was 16 by the time it went untreated and had spread all through my ovaries and to all the fallopian tubes and my uterus... then untreated still another couple years (because of poor health care in my smaller rural communities including my hometown) then at 19 my whole entire uterine lining was xomething of a mess, the doctors said basically all there woukd have been to prevent it from dpreading the cancer elsewhere would have been a full out take of my sexual organs , i believe the term is a hysterectomy....but on my paperwork i see here that it says that I was to undergo something else... + + The removal of an ovary together with the Fallopian tube is called salpingo-oophorectomy or unilateral salpingo-oophorectomy (USO). When both ovaries and both Fallopian tubes are removed.

But that did not happdn due to complications. So now, its spread to my other organs as youd guess, spleen, liver, kidneys, etc...it is a shitttSHOW I knowe.

This is why I would appreciate it if some one, any one would stand up for me ..just have a say in whether I eat today or not, or whether I stay in this residence without having to move this winter, I mean, Winter, its settling in.,,

I do not always feel totally blessed to be me; But ai I cannot complain when the bills is caught up and I gots good food at home(and the fight food, I am on a special expensive diet)

Cancer is expensive…AF! If you have cancer, this is no news to you. But until cancer happened to me, I had no idea how expensive it truly was. I think it’s safe to say that that seeing how much it will cost to undergo treatment is almost as frightening as getting the actual cancer diagnosis. My diagnosis has definitely opened my eyes to the shocking reality of the financial burden that cancer causes for an individual and their family. The astronomical expenses that accrue from treatments, tests, surgeries, scans, integrative therapies, etc are outrageous! While there are both public and private health insurance that defray medical and drug costs, huge out-of-pocket costs can be devastating to patients and force major changes in their lives. I’ve had to make several changes and my life has been affected indefinitely due to the financial burden that cancer has caused. The financial stress it causes for people during treatment until remission alone is hard, but imagine living with cancer where the treatments, doctor visits, tests and lifestyle adjustments are ever enduring, like when you have metastatic cancer. It’s life altering… to say the least.

HOW MUCH DOES CANCER TREATMENT ACTUALLY COST?

This is an impossible question to answer. The cost of treatment obviously varies from individual to individual based on their diagnosis, the type of treatment they will require and the longevity of the treatment. However, the “typical” cost of breast cancer looks a little something like this according to recent studies.

“For patients covered by health insurance, out-of-pocket costs for breast cancer treatment typically consist of doctor visit, lab and prescription drug copays as well as coinsurance of 10%-50% for surgery and other procedures, which can easily reach the yearly out-of-pocket maximum. Breast cancer treatment typically is covered by health insurance, although some plans might not cover individual drugs or treatments. For patients not covered by health insurance, breast cancer treatment typically costs $15,000-$50,000 or more for a mastectomy or $17,000 to $35,000 or more for a lumpectomy followed by radiation.”

New cancer drugs are being approved at a fast pace. Numerous are approved each year and new drugs are constantly in trial and in the pipeline to be FDA approved. In the past, these drugs might cost around $10,000 for a year’s treatment. But newer studies have found that newly-approved cancer drugs carry price tags between $120,000 and $170,000! One of the drugs I take as part of my daily cocktail, is a newly FDA approved drug called Ibrance… for heavily pretreated ER+ metastatic patients. It has worked wonders for me but a month supply of this drug is over $12,000. I am blessed to have good coverage, but not all people are as fortunate.

“Depending on the individual case and the type and number of treatments needed, the total cost of breast cancer treatment, on average, can reach $100,000 — or, in advanced cases, $300,000 or more. This includes the cost of the chemotherapy drugs, additional drugs to help manage side effects, administration of the drugs and medical care for chemotherapy-related complications.”

And again, if you are anything like myself and are living with a metastatic diagnosis, treatments and care is endless with no foreseeable light at the end of the tunnel.

😔😫😫🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗😔😔😫

WHY IS IT SO EXPENSIVE???

The never ending list of cancer expenses looks a little something like this:

🎗Frequent doctor visits with surgeon, radiologist, oncologist. I personally see my oncologist once every 3 weeks and check in with my surgeon every couple of months.

🎗Lab Tests. This includes blood tests, urine tests and more. I get my labs done every few weeks when I see my oncologist to check my levels and tumor markers.

🎗Clinic visits for treatments. When I was on IV treatment I would be in the treatment center every few weeks. Currently I take an oral chemo and only have to be in the treatment clinic once every few months for my Lupron injection. But many people are in the treatment clinic, daily or weekly to get their infusions and injections.

🎗Procedures for diagnosis or treatment. Such procedures can include biopsies, room charges, equipment.. I’ve had a few biopsies and had to get lung taps done frequently when I had lung mets.

🎗Imaging Tests. These tests include X-rays, CT scans, MRIs and PET scans which may mean separate bills for radiologist fees, equipment and any medicines used for the test. These tests are extremely costly too…yikes! I get PET/CT scans every 3 months, consistently for the past 6 years now.

🎗Radiation Treatment (implants, external radiation, or both) I have never had radiology but as we know, it’s a very common treatment for most cancers.

Drug🎗 Costs. (inpatient, outpatient, prescription, non-prescription and procedure-related) The cost of chemotherapy drugs is crazy!

🎗In-Home Nurse Care (if you need it, and I do actually, yes) and its freaking insane how much these so called "nurses aids -assistants" want an hour!!

Hospital 🎗Stays. This can encompass many types of costs such as drugs, tests and procedures as well as nursing care, doctor visits and consults with specialists. I have been admitted twice, each time for a week stay for cancer related issues.

🎗Surgery. Costs can accrue from surgeon, anesthesiologist, pathologist, operating room fees, equipment, medicines… I have had 3 lumpectomies and 2 other surgical procedures related to my cancer diagnosis.

🎗Fertility. If you are blindsided and diagnosed in your 20’s or 30’s with a cancer diagnosis and want to have a family, freezing your eggs is an option, but a costly one. You will be required to pay for tests, and medications leading up to the surgical procedure to remove your eggs. I paid about $10K out of pocket to cover the cost of freezing my eggs.

While these are examples of the clinical costs associated with cancer, there are other adjustments you may want to make that will also prove to be costly. I personally changed my diet and started to eat all organic foods and sought integrative therapies to add to my clinical regime. You can read more about the therapies I have incorporated here. All of these expenses add up and certainly are a financial strain.

🎗🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟And of course we need to pay... Rent, heat/hydro, car/transportation/ambulance bills , always bills bills bills billsssss.....and wifi/internet/television/mobile phone znd/or tablet or computer and gaming systems... camera.....im z girl so clothes..makeup,(I'm thrifty ricky tho) and always last, maybe maybe get sweets healthwise branded cookies or some type of peanuts(unsalted).

I never get go, go nowhere, do anything, get a coffee from a coffee shop, i can't afford to do just about anything a normal individual such as yourself yourself would do, i just cannot do it its not in my budget ... I currently own ONE lipgloss, and one broken eye liner , that is my makeup beauty kit, who the heck wants to even go out or take pictures thenn? Ugh....

Www.paypal.me/believeitxxnot is the link to the Cancer Fundraiser🎗the email for it is [email protected]

Anyways, do not feel bad for me. I am here to service YOU for ever I know this . TY so much ily guys , please please if you will not donate to my awfully painfully really urgent cause then PLEASE SHARE POST ..... BOOOST POOOOST !! PLZ !! XOXO

I need the supporters !! Yo yo ! DOOOONAAAATEEEEE!!

A n y t h i n g h e l p s m e r i g h t n o w , p l e a s e ! ?

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jinniesxlamp · 5 years

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Goodbye, Hello - Chapter 6

A/N: Hello, My loves! I know it’s been quite awhile since I’ve updated. Sincere apologies, I started going back to work again and it’s very much time demanding, barely sparing me any free time for myself. 😅 But it’s currently a four-day weekend for me so....multiple chapters coming your way! Enjoy. Comments/reactions are always welcome here.

LIST OF CHAPTERS –> Masterlist

Nothing but the warm weather was comforting at all today. Chairman Byeon sat nonchallantly, patiently finishing with the second letter that was handed to him a few minutes ago. Weeks have gone by since the replacement of Park In Jung and Y/N’s immediate promotion, in that time span, one would think naturally that things would start getting better which, again, was not the case at all. Once through, he sat the letter down on top of the first one on his table, searching for the eyes of the worn-out lady who handed them.

Y/N’s POV

I kept my head down, subtly avoiding eye contact with Chairman Byeon as he received both my letter of resignation from this project and my request for time off to fly to Jeju for Myunghwa’s death anniversary. It was good for a little bit, since he kept himself busy reading, but of course I had to meet his eyes after he finishes.

“Y/N-ssi” he said, innocuously.

“Dae, daepyonim?” I responded, half in a whisper.

Chairman Byeon had always been soft and non-intimidating, even when he’s establishing authority. I could feel his stares studying my tired feautures; the unfamiliar wrinkles that were starting to grow on my forehead, shadow-dim under eyes, bloodshot spider veins from my sclera and the distinct puffiness of my face. All of which he has never seen before. There was nothing but concern on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” He said, with a gentle, pacifying smile which I responded with a nod.

“Do you know why I hired you in this company?”

I was confused. Was this a trick question?

“Because it was a favor you did for Myunghwa.”

That was it, really.

Chairman Byeon and Myunghwa knew each other since they were little.

I was finishing my degree at Seoul University when Myunghwa was diagnosed with cancer, Soojin was only in high school. We were both adopted by Myunghwa who turned out to be the heiress of one of the biggest real estate brokerage firms in South Korea. To put it into imagery, she owned a quarter of the entire Gangnam area. She was never married, never had kids. I was her adopted daughter since the night she had found me. A few months later, she adopted a little girl, Soojin who was the daughter of one of her housemaids who had passed away in a car accident. Since then, Soojin and I had been inseperable, like actual siblings. When Myunghwa passed away, she donated most of her real estate wealth to charity organizations, some to the district of Gangnam and the rest of it which was cash, was left for Soojin and I. Over the years, I had finished my Masters degree and later, Soojin finished university. Timingly, I received a call from Myunghwa’s lawyer who gave me instructions according to the will—I was given a name and a number to call, that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Next thing I knew, I was already starting as a rookie producer for one of the biggest companies in the industry along with Soojin who was my secretary.

A look of disappointment glistened in his modest eyes as he brought both of his hands together, trying to catch my eyes again.

“Until the day you will learn to look at yourself as you should, I apologize, but I cannot accept your resignation from this project.”

“D-daepyonim”

“I will wait until the day you will have the answer to my question. For now, you may take the rest of the week off. Send my heartfelt greetings to Myunghwa—

Also, Jeju is a beautiful place for meditation. Allow yourself to relax, Y/N. You have worked so hard.”

Yoongi’s POV

“Na wasseo” I announced, fatigued.

Hannam was usually quiet at this hour, disregarding Taehyung and Jungkook, of course who never fails to wake the entire household with their game antics. But somehow the noise I was hearing wasn’t the usual howls of gamers. Sliding on my house slippers, I curiously made my way towards the livingroom where the voices were.

“Oh hyung! Wasseo!” Waved Namjoon who had brought the late night visitor.

“Annyeonghaseyo” bowed Jackson Wang, who didn’t look too pleased right now. I returned the greeting and left to get a glass of water from the fridge.

“How was the recording with Suran?” Asked Hoseok, grimly staring at his laptop.

“It was a good start. But there’s still a lot to do”

“Oh wasseo” Jin hyung had entered the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for (most likely) beer. He passed both Hoseok and I a can each.

“How was the shoot today?” He asked.

“Good, good. She wasn’t there today” I nodded, leaning on the counter across Hoseok and beside Jin hyung who suddenly swung his arm around my shoulder.

“Min Yoongi—

He said closest to my ear, tapping on my shoulder.

I only asked about your day, not her.”

He had a smug on his face as he lifted his arm and left. I paused, internalizing what he had just said. Hoseok, who seemed to have heard everything had both his eyebrows raised, clearing his throat in amusement which I was too tired to comment on.

“I’m going to bed” again, I announced, passing by Hoseok then passing by the living room, where Jackson was still expressing his frustration.

“Ahh jeongmal! I still can’t believe he ditched me for that woman. I get it, she was in a bad shape, but he could have just dropped her off and came back. We planned this for months already!”

“Ya, do you know what you sound like right now? A jealous girlfriend. That’s what” Namjoon, with arms crossed and head turning from side to side finally decided to tell him off.

“Aniiiiiii, it’s just that, she just happened to be in the same place as we were, she wasn’t even asking for his company. She was someone he knew from work he said. But still! Why would you ditch a friend who you planned a whole night out with for a lonely, drunk woman with long, beautiful, brown hair and milky white skin who was sulking in peace on the bar counter?”

Namjoon’s brow raised, looking questionably at Jackson.

“Ya. So you’re telling me, that if you were in Lee Jooheon’s place, seeing a woman who had the exact description you had just given me....you wouldn’t have ditched him?”

Jackson was dimwitted at Namjoon’s reverse psychologic manipulation.

“Ani—kunde—ah molla!!!”

“Let it go Jackson, you would’ve done the same if you were him”

On the verge of entering my own bedroom, something he had said caught my attention.

“Arasseo, arasseo. I’ll let it go. She didn’t look like she could go home by herself anyway. He had to drive that woman’s silver BMW and left his car at the club.”

02:03 am

Not even the sound of crickets were heard, nothing but the shuffling of my sheets as I shifted to countless positions, trying to get myself to sleep. My eyes found themselves fixed at the ceiling while I thought of all the struggles we had to go through just to get here. Just to live this vivid dream. I remember when I used to wait at the cold bus stop, breathing out air from my empty stomach. And the nights when I would come home drained and tired, only to sleep on a thin mattress which I had to share with another body to keep warm.

Another body.

“Oppa, you eat my share of the food. You have to go to training while I only have to stay home. You need it more than I do”

“Oppa, kwenchana. You sleep on the mattress, your body is too sore from practice. I can sleep on the floor”

“Kwenchana”

I caught myself hearing voices from a long time ago, shaking my head vigorously to wake up from what felt like a dream.

It made me think again. Was it you Jackson was talking about? Yesterday’s events would have stressed you out too much. And I think I may have been unecessarily harsh with my words, only some though. You deserved to hear most of it. I took a deep breath, avoiding any amount of guilt to build inside my head.

It’s okay. Soon enough, we will say goodbye again.

Maybe even in silence.

Jooheon’s POV

How was it even possible for this woman to know her way home, even when being fully intoxicated?

I stared at her, seated on the passenger seat of her own car. Half asleep, half drunk. In the middle of my night out with Jackson, I happened to have found her swaying on the bar counter, taking three more shots from her seventh bottle of Soju. She was alone and it was late. There was no way she could get home safely at this state. I bid goodbye to Jackson, who decided to spend the rest of the night elsewhere. I took her home.

“Y/N, wake up. Let’s get you to your house”

She lived in a semi-luxurious apartment complex. After all, she was earning a pretty decent amout of money.

With her body still swaying and eyes blurry, the passcode she entered for the second time finally went through. We both entered her apartment, she clung onto my shoulder as I positioned her. I asked where her bedroom was, which she lead me to right away. I sat her gently on her bed, making sure she was safe from falling before turning back to leave.

Before I could take another step, I started hearing objects being dropped gently to the ground. Had I known what it was, I wouldn’t have turned.

Everything that covered her, she had stripped off her body. Almost everything, if I hadn’t stopped her.

“What are you doing?” I asked, sternly.

As a thoughtless man, I would have been flattered with the sight right in front of me. But the way her eyes contradicted with her actions and with her words reminded me to think rationally. What exactly was she doing right now?

“Go ahead. This is what you want, isn’t it?”

I didn’t bother to move, continuing to observe her from afar, until she stood up, walking towards me with tired but steady eyes. Placing her arms around my neck in only her lace underwear.

I felt blood rushing towards my upper body, sensing every inch of her skin on mine. Eyes locked with one another, but of course, I was the only one seeing things very clearly.

Yes. To answer her question, yes. This is what a man would want. This is what I want. But if I had asked her the same question, the answer would have been different.

Of course she didn’t want this. But she needed this to heal from whatever was hurting her.

According to her eyes, that is.

I was too lost in my own thoughts that I had not noticed her moving closer to me, pressing her lips on mine. Moving on her own while I fought my every urge to be still. After a while, I gently took her hands off my neck, gaining a dissatisfied look on her face. Brows furrowed in confusion.

“Mwo haneun geoya?” She asked, obviously offended.

I ignored her, taking my coat off, attempting to wrap it around her bare body which she refused, brushing my arm away, causing the box on her table to fall, scattering the contents on the floor.

“Get out” she said. I didn’t obey.

“I said, get out!” She said again, now yelling—tears falling down her face.

Again, I attempted to wrap my coat around her. This time with force. She fought my movements, but I held her onto my chest until she decided to give up, replacing her physical protests with heavy cries of pain.

I waited for her to fall asleep, thinking in between what would have caused this. A little bit past midnight, I decided to leave, seeing her peacefully resting. On my way towards the door, I noticed the scattered pieces of pictures and paper. Not wanting to ruin any of them, I started picking them up, throwing them into the box without a glace. The last piece was laying by her desk chair which I sat down to pick up. I failed to notice one end which was held down by the chair, causing the paper to rip.

“Aish” I cursed to myself, huffing in silence as I tried to take a look, wanting to see if it was completely ripped. It wasn’t my intention to read what was written on it, but somehow my eyes started to scan it on its own.

“I wish that you had taken everything with you when you left. The memories, the feelings, every thought of you. Especially your scent.

Why did it linger so much? It makes it so hard for me to breathe. Everything smells like you. Is it because every unforgettable thing I ever did, and every beautiful place I ever went was with you?

Alcohol, sheets and even the men I slept with. I hallucinate your scent on them. The alcohol makes me forget that you’re gone. The sheets remind me of your warm body, wrapped around mine and the men....It was always so easy to replace them with the thought of you—touching me, making love to me. Though the feeling never felt the same, and though it will never be the same....it will always help me get through the night without missing you too much. I missed you. I miss you. I will continue to miss you, Min Yoongi. Please come back to me.”

Now that I know, I understand.

I spared her one last glance, folding the ripped piece of paper, keeping it somewhere safer than her opened box of agony.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #min yoongi smut #min yoongi angst #min yoongi fluff #monsta x #lee jooheon #lee jooheon smut #lee jooheon angst #lee jooheon fluff

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shewhowantsmouseears · 6 years

Text

Welcome to Spookyville! Chapter 3

Notes: As always, big thanks to my editors Drucilla and BlueShifted, both of which were rather creeped out by this chapter. I feel so proud.

Not much to say this time around, but I feel I do need to assure you that just because I put a character through hell, it doesn't mean I don't love them. If anything, it shows how much I love them! (Which is why it's probably a godsend to the rest of the world that I don't date.)

The song featured is from a classic Donald cartoon!

Summary: When Minnie learns that Mickey's secretary has a crush, she decides to become Minnie the MatchMaker! How could it possibly go wr-ALL THE WAYS.

The next tale in our absurd collection takes place after one of Minnie's latest wild goose chases around Spookyville – this is not a metaphor, she created a flock of magic wild geese to chase down the Mayor. It failed, as usual, but they sure left their marks, especially on the seats of the trousers of the Mayor's poor associates. Minnie never cried over her failures too long anymore – to her, it meant something new to learn, like how the Mayor was horribly allergic to goose down. Oh well, his head would stop swelling eventually, and then he'd surely forgive her.

She flounced back to her home on the hill, stopping every now and then to brush some feathers from her dress, making small-talk with her smaller familiars. As they discussed how to improve the next plan, it was Chip who remarked, “Say, did you guys notice that Donald got distracted mid-way through the day?”

“I saw that too!” Dale replied, sitting comfortably on Minnie's shoulder. “Wasn't that the oddest thing?”

“Why, I didn't see that,” Minnie said, surprised by this new information. “I was too busy watching the Mayor... was Donald really that distracted?”

“I swear it!” Chip saluted, always loyal to his lunatic. “I think it was when we were passing the Boo-tique-”

“That's a terrible pun!” Dale groaned.

“Spookyville is 99% terrible puns! And 1% outdated Halloween memes!”

Minnie let them bicker about nonsense as she threw open her front door, terribly curious. “Boys, I need to find out what happened! This could be crucial to my next idea! The Mayor's difficult to get alone, but if I can get rid of his friends, he'll be an easy, adorable target! Now, let me see...” Once her chipmunks hopped off, she began to dig into her closet, tossing magical tools over her shoulder. “Something in here should let me see what got Donald's attention... Enchanted Elixirs, Bewitching Brews, my personalized lockpicking kit...a-ha!” Satisfied, Minnie popped back up holding a remote control in her fingers. “I got this last year for Witchmas! The Clock-Clicker! I tell it a memory, and it'll play it back!”

“That is incredibly convenient,” Chip quipped.

“And to think we almost returned it for a coffee-maker!” Dale added.

Minnie spun around, pointing the clicker in the air and pressing several buttons before uttering the right spell.

“It happened today, a little past ten,

I saw my Mayor, I know exactly when,

Right around the Boo-tique, an eye was caught,

So be a dear and just tell me what!”

The remote glowed white, before shooting out a stream of fluffy clouds that formed a television screen, replaying the day's events. There went Minnie, happily skipping down the street, while citizens and mayors alike ran screaming from the flock of untamed animals she had released to nip at his heels. “Looks like a normal day so far,” Minnie commented as she watched, waiting for the turn around the corner.

“Wait for it...” Chip held his breath, before pointing. “There, right there, pause it!”

Click! Minnie froze the screen, and then leaned in – true enough, Donald had suddenly turned his head to the left, his attention caught elsewhere, instead of on the rabid goose trying to bite down on his tail-feathers. “Why, Chip, you're right! I wonder what made him look!” A few more experimental button-presses allowed her to zoom in past the flurry of white feathers and destroyed street pavement.

Right in front of the Boo-tique, gazing at the windows and ignoring the rampant chaos behind her, stood a young lady duck with her eyes glued to the dresses inside. She was definitely a pretty thing, decked in blues of all types and tints. Silhouettes of tiny mice poked around her hat, held together by a sparkling purple band, and her hands were comfortably resting in a fluffy periwinkle muffler. Her dressed appeared to glitter and gleam with every movement she made, which is perhaps what snagged Donald's eyes in the first place, though it was the rest of her that kept him looking.

Cute as it was, if he had managed to pay more attention to the danger than the dame, he wouldn't have been run over by the geese and the witch herself seconds later, making his back into the world's weirdest runway. Minnie clapped her hands together, intrigued and giddy. “Why, this is perfect! He's got a crush on this nice girl! We should set them up!”

“That's awfully nice of you to suggest, mistress!” Chip said.

“So how are you going to ruin it, mistress?” Dale said.

“If we get them together,” Minnie explained, turning off the image, “Then Donald will spend more time with her and less time with the Mayor! That means his defenses will have a big gap, and my plans to make him mine will increase by 30%!” Warning – trying to attempt this math will make you go cross-eyed. “If there's anyone who knows anything about love, it's Minnie Mouse, Matchmaker Master!” She stuck her fingers in her mouth, whistling for her broom.

“Not that we don't doubt your abilities in the slightest,” Chip easily lied, “But how are you going to do it?”

“Yeah, mistress, your magic is all about winning over the Mayor! … Or killing him. The comedic narrative makes it kind of hard to tell what your aim is,” Dale tried to reason as best he could. “Can it really be used to make someone else fall in love?”

“I won't know unless I try!” Minnie announced, yanking her broom over once it was within reach. “You boys stay here and get rid of the goose pen, I don't think we'll be needing that anymore. Maybe love lions would do better...” She then waved a hand, that would wait another day. “For now, my aim is one Donald Duck! Wish me luck!” She sat atop her broom and flew out the window, humming merrily along the way.

The chipmunks silently agreed that someone else probably needed that luck much, much more.

~*~

At the Mayor's office, Mickey had avoided a visit to the hospital thanks to a magical epi-pen, which is the same as a regular epi-pen, except it's magical. With Minnie's threat over for the day, he could get to work. He shuffled his papers, trying to remember the day's agenda before Minnie decided to... you know, he really had no idea what that last plan would have succeeded in doing, it was perhaps best not to dwell on it. “Okay, guys, where were we?”

“It was just about lunch-time!” Goofy said as he pulled out a tray of triple-decker sandwiches from his hat. “That is if your throat still isn't swelled up... also, what's the difference between the geese that chased us and Donald's distant cousins?”

“We don't have time to deal with existential fourth-wall breaking,” Donald said after clearing his throat, flipping open his notebook. “After your lunch, you need to look over the newest forms concerning donations at the local blood bank. Then you have a meeting with the democratic skeleton society, Dem Bones - ”

“That pun's so bad we should be sued over it.”

“That's your 3'clock appointment. After that, I have to be caught in a magical pink lasso... wait.” Donald paused, not remembering when he wrote that in the schedule – because he hadn't, it was happening right now, thanks to an open window. All three heads swiveled around to see who was on the other end, and take a fair guess.

“Hiii!” Minnie chirped outside, waving the other end of the lasso about as she sat on her broom. “I just need to borrow Donald for a little while! Thanks, bye!” With a click of her heels, the broom sped off, taking Donald with it with a loud “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!”

Mickey blinked at the now empty space in his office. He supposed the reasonable, rational, nice thing to do would be to follow them and make sure nothing happened to his secretary. Then again, he did have a lot of paperwork to get to, and without Donald around, he wouldn't be given more of it. He took a sandwich and thought as he chewed. “You know... he is pretty powerful, I'm sure he can take care of himself. Plus, it'd be nice not to be the center of attention this chapter.”

Goofy poured a fresh cup of tea out of his hat. “And it's got nothin' to do with how popular his new show is, right?”

“What did we just say about the fourth wall?”

~*~

Donald was finally released with an unceremonious THUD about ten blocks later, landing on his head while still tied up. Minnie jumped off her broom and began to brush Donald down. “There there, we can't have you looking like rubbish for your big date.”

Donald's eyes swam, confused on several levels. “My big what? … Oh, no, if you're in love with me now, I will take out my pen and stick it in my jugular.”

“First, ew. Second, rude. Third, it's not with me, silly!” Minnie adjusted his hat, and then began to untie him. “I'm going to get you a date with that cute girl you were staring at!”

Once Donald was free, he rubbed his raw wrists before actually hearing what had been said. “What? Seriously? … What's the catch?” He pointed at her face, immediately and rightfully suspicious. “Anything involving you never ends well. The last thing I need is a Minnie-sized migraine. If you'll excuse me...” He tugged on his jacket, turning on his heel, ready to go. “I can land dates on my own just fine.”

“Oh, really?” Minnie asked, genuinely sincere. “When was the last time you were on a date?”

Donald froze in place, and the longer he took to answer, the more obvious it became what the answer was. “It... might have been... a while...” he mumbled, each word taking more effort to say than the last. “... Oh, boy, I'm actually going to go along with this, aren't I?”

“It'll be easy, with me at your side!” Minnie skipped to his side, taking him by the arm and dragging him along. “A girl that fashionable is probably going to hit the shoe store next. It probably has a pun about soles and souls.”

“Hang on, hang on!” But no matter how hard Donald tried to use his feet as brakes, Minnie proved that her petite body had way more strength than he could ever account for. “I don't even know her name, or what type of monster she is! She could be a witch, or a mummy, or a werewolf... I need to make sure so I don't offend her!”

“Oh, those things don't matter!” Minnie put a hand above her eyes as if that would somehow help her peering prowess. “Just be yourself! Except more charming, suave, and debonair. And try to speak in a more natural voice. And stop frowning. Basically, just be anyone but yourself.” Donald had no time to be insulted when Minnie suddenly squealed, “There she is!” And then shoved Donald face-first into a patch of thorny bushes. “Here, hide so we can plan!”

“WHY IS EVERY MINUTE WITH YOU SOMEHOW FILLED WITH PAIN?!”

Minnie ducked in next to him, not getting pricked by the bushes because they knew better. “See, there she is!” She pointed ahead, and there stood the lady in question, leaving the shoe store with a pair of new purple heels on her feet, trying them out with a little tap-tap-tap on the sidewalk.

Donald managed to rip the thorns out of his face, blinking hard so he could see past the pain. “She is pretty cute... I can't even guess what type of monster she'd be. What makes you think someone that gorgeous would want a regular guy like me?” He waited. Waited. Waited. “...This is the part where you say I'm great.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought that was a rhetorical question.” Minnie shrugged it off, and with a wave of her hands, poofed up a bouquet of red roses. “Anyway, here you go! What girl doesn't love flowers? Aside from the ones who are allergic. But love is a risk worth taking!”

Donald took the flowers, but hesitated. “These... aren't going to explode, or turn carnivorous, or spray laughing gas, or-”

“Less asking me and more asking her out!” Minnie pushed Donald out of the bush, whispering so the other girl hopefully wouldn't hear. “Just walk across the street, and introduce yourself! You can do it!”

Donald glanced back at her, then at the girl who was deciding whether to go next, cupping her chin in adorable thought. He drew a breath – maybe it really could be as simple as all that! He smoothed down his jacket, cleared his throat, and then stepped forward into the street. “Hi-”

We pause this story for a brief safety lesson that is important for all ages. Whether you live in normal society or a world infested with Halloween creatures, you should always look both ways before crossing the street. That way, you will hopefully avoid being hit with an eighteen-wheeler, which Donald did not.

Minnie patiently waited until the last gigantic bone-crushing wheel had ran itself over Donald's mangled body before hopping over and inspecting the damage. “Aw, the flowers got crushed! We better think of something else to win her over.”

“I can't feel my legs.”

“C'mon, she's on the move!” Minnie grabbed Donald by the wrist, ignoring the sickening sound of his liquefied organs as she tried to find where the young lady had gone off to. “Faint heart never won the fair lady! And fainting doesn't count!”

~*~

Later on, the reluctant duo was in the Spookyville library, having spotted the young lady flipping through some texts in a corner. Minnie and Donald poked their heads around the corner, and then Minnie began to shove book after book into Donald's arms. “Okay, plan B. The Meet Cute!”

“Dare I ask?”

“It's the standard cliche for all romance movies! You create a scenario where the love interests meet, bonding over a shared experience, like dropping your books in front of her! She'll pick them up, glance at the titles, and start a conversation! Hollywood would be bankrupt without that trope!”

Once again, this sounded like a sane idea... in theory. However, Minnie's over-eager excitement decided that Donald needed to have many, many books to make this work. Donald wound up with an armful, a stackful, an eyeful – he could no longer see in front of his face. “Please tell me that me being injured isn't going to be the running gag of this chapter. It's already the running gag of my life.”

“Don't be such a downer, and go be the cutest meet that has ever met!” Minnie lightly pushed his shoulders, forcing Donald to walk forward, the tower of books beginning to wobble. Donald gulped loudly, trying to walk very slowly so he could avoid certain doom. Every so often he tried to glance around his pile to at least make sure he was headed in the right direction, but even this proved to be difficult. Inch by inch, scoot by scoot, he didn't dare go any faster. How was he supposed to drop these books naturally, by the way...?

Minnie was running out of patience. This was taking way too long! By the time he got over there, the young lady would be finished with her book and out the door! Clearly Donald needed her assistance. She slid out her wand from her pointy hat, and flicked it towards the carpet underneath his feet. All it would take is one gentle tug, and he'd have his meet cute, followed by date cute, then wedding cute, then Mayor in handcuffs and chained in Minnie's basement cute!

Donald let out a startled “WAK!” as he felt the carpet underneath his feet move, and it was not one gentle tug at all! It was a hard pull, and he was so surprised that he threw all the books up in shock – he let out a longer “WAAAAAK!” and scrambled to catch each and every single one before they could fall, even if it meant catching by with his feet, beak, tail, hat, etc. By some miracle, he managed to retrieve every single fallen book, and sighed with relief at the avoidance of his usual fate.

This relief lasted for three seconds, as when Minnie had tugged the carpet, it had also wound up tugging under the very large, heavy bookshelves which thudded against one another until they had a domino disaster. As much as Donald would have loved to move out of the way, all of his limbs being preoccupied with books prevented him from moving a single inch. The last thing he saw was the young lady quietly leaving – and then he was smashed flat. Minnie clicked her tongue – that wasn't very cute at all! She flounced over to the pile of crushed bookshelves, knowing no librarian with any will to live would think of shushing her, and managed to find Donald's hand. “Honestly, Donald, being loud in a library isn't going to win anyone over! Let's try something else.”

“I think my lung is punctured.”

“Don't be such a crybaby.” With both of her hands holding his, she dragged out the nearly-dead Donald from underneath and headed off. Third time was the charm, and tended to be the last time a plan failed before either a serious of hilarious quick-timed montages, or a success!

~*~

Lunch had passed, and it was almost dinner-time for residents of Spookyville, which was probably why Donald's stomach was rumbling. That, or all the blood his wounded organs were spilling was starting to pile up in there. The young lady was now at the florist, thoughtfully rubbing some rose petals between her fingers as the sun was starting to set. She did not see Donald and Minnie hiding in the nearby alleyway. Minnie's latest plan involved a large wooden guitar, which she strapped to Donald's back before sliding it into his arms. “There! Now you can serenade her, and win her heart with a song!”

Donald plucked a few strings with his fingers. “But I don't know any love songs.”

“Just sing from the heart! It'll come through! True love is understood in all languages, even the tone-deaf!”

Donald was understandably reluctant to give it a try, “hmm”ing out loud as he weighed his options. Mostly he was trying to figure out how this plan would wind up with him in need of a full-body cast, and for once he couldn't connect it. This plan, dumb as it was, did seem to be harmless. “Maybe you used up all your crazy for the day. This might actually do the job!”

Minnie clapped her hands before pointing away. “Go get her, future best man at my wedding!”

The secretary took a deep breath before walking out into the dimming sunlight. Looked left – looked right – nothing to run him over, nothing to fall on top of him, and with a glance behind him, Minnie was doing nothing except shaking a pair of suddenly summoned maracas to go with the song. So far, so good! Donald looked towards the young lady, who had moved on to picking up a few daisies, and found inspiration. He lightly began to strum, making the words up as he went along.

“Daisy, Daisy, you're the one,

That gets me captivated...”

The young lady paused before turning towards the song, eyebrows raised, intrigued by what she was hearing. Donald felt his heart skip a beat, seeing those pretty eyes meet his own, and he faltered before picking up the beat again. Things were going his way! Maybe Minnie wasn't so bad after all! He owed her one!

“Every time you look at me,

I get so addlepated...”

Except you and I both know the road to a bad place is paved with good intentions, and Minnie had nothing but good intentions on her mind. The song was good – but it could be better! Like if it was louder! Yes, if it could be heard all over the world, the young lady would swoon! Or go deaf and never hear Donald's natural voice, which would also work. With a wave of her wand, the maracas vanished, and she replaced them with six-foot-tall speakers. They just needed to be plugged into the guitar – which Minnie forgot at first was not an electric guitar. Oh well, things would work out.

She clicked the plugs for the speakers together, making sure they weren't just full of electricity, but super, super, SUPER charged with electricity. She skipped over to Donald -

“And when I'm riding along the street,

Everybody that I meet...”

“Here you go, Donald!” And jabbed the plugs into his back -

“Says 'there goes that guy,

that's crazy over Daisy MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAE'!”

Which wound up sending hundreds upon thousands of electric volts throughout his body, frying his feathers and turning him into delicious roast duck, then burnt duck, then sizzling, crackling, blackened duck. He landed on his back, mouth open, perhaps far past the point of being able to scream anymore. Minnie leaned over his comatose body, pouting. “Oh, Donald, I don't think she's into heavy metal! Your music taste leaves a lot to be desired.” She tossed the plugs aside, finished with the current scheme. “Oh well. Onto the next idea!”

“NO!” Donald yelled, suddenly able to find the strength to stand up and grab Minnie by the front of her dress. “NO MORE IDEAS! Each one of your stupid ideas gets me closer to death! I just saw a bright light and I'm pretty sure I had Walt waving at me from the other side! NO MORE! I'M OUT! I'M DONE! FINISHED! KAPUT! WHATEVER WILL GET THROUGH THOSE BIG EARS OF YOURS!”

Minnie blinked back at him, his smell reminding her to toss out the old chicken fried rice in her fridge. “But you can't stop now, Donald! Your true love is waiting for you! How will she ever know how you feel if you don't go for it?”

“I CAN'T DATE HER IF I'M DEAD!”

“Now that's just quitter talk. Besides, I know necromancy!”

Donald dropped Minnie like a hot potato, convinced that she took “help him or die trying” quite literally. “Go back to stalking the Mayor! Shoot, I'll gift-wrap him for you if that'll get you to stop helping me! I don't ever want you helping me again! Not now, not ever, now get lost!”

Minnie went quiet, her face seeming to shrink. Her eyes ducked down, almost hidden by her hat, and her hands folded together. She didn't say anything right away, save for a few timid sniffles, before -

“AND YOU, NARRATOR! QUIT TRYING TO DRUM UP SYMPATHY!”

Donald was so caught up in yelling at everyone in sight, and those beyond, he nearly missed the feeling of someone tapping his shoulder. He would've yelled at them too, if that person didn't happen to be the young lady! “Pardon me,” she asked, “But what in the world is going on here? Is it my imagination, or have you two been following me all day?”

“Yes” said Minnie at the exact time Donald said “no”. Minnie then clamped Donald's beak with her hands, bright and peppy again. “My dear friend here wanted to be your boyfriend, so I've been trying to help him come up with ideas on how to win your heart! Isn't that right, Donald?” She made him nod.

The girl raised an eyebrow, turning her head towards Donald. “If that's the case... why didn't you just ask me on a date?”

Stating the simple solution had never hurt a man's soul more severely than it did for Donald right then and there. He buried his face in his hands, grumbling this and that. Minnie tilted her head back in thought – huh, maybe they could've just done that at the start. But what fun would that have been? The young lady held back a chuckle, and offered her hand to Donald. “My name's Daisy.”

Donald lowered his hands slowly in shock. He glanced at Minnie, who gave two thumbs up, before steadily taking Daisy's hand to shake it. “I'm, um... I'm Donald Duck! It's nice to meet you, Daisy.”

“Looks like my work here is done!” Minnie declared proudly, whistling for her broom.

“You literally did nothing,” Donald said under his breath.

“Invite me to the wedding so I can catch the bouquet!” Minnie cheered as she took a seat and began to ride off. Why, she did such a nice thing today! It made her feel good. She deserved a reward for all her hard work – a hot bath, a few chocolates, and then watching the Mayor through the hidden security cameras she placed all over his house.

Relieved to be rid of the nuisance at last, Donald adjusted his hat and linked arms with Daisy, happy to be with a sane woman for the first time all day. “Hey, the day's still young! Why don't we grab a bite to eat?” Maybe he could ask her what type of monster she was, after he told her he was a warlock.

“I had the exact same idea,” Daisy said with a girly giggle, but instead of sharing Donald's embrace, she calmly lifted his arm and rolled up his sleeve. “Bon appetite!” And then sunk her vampire fangs right into his flesh.

As it turned out, Donald did still have enough nerve cells alive that could allow him to scream his lungs out.

#disney #fanfic #welcome to spookyville #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #donald duck #daisy duck

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thetheshadowofwestfall-blog · 6 years

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An Iron Chrysanthemum In Her Hair

Part Two: The Space Between Two Worlds

Big place, Azeroth. Lots of people. Lots of places. Lots of points of view. Hard to imagine all of the little stories across the planet and beyond playing out day-by-day. Drops of feelings and desires in an ocean of emotions.

The hippogryph came to land on the platform without any fanfare or flash, brilliant blue feathers and graceful steel barding a far cry from the wyverns and gryphons typical of the port. Much of the morning activity across Booty Bay was in full swing, numerous ships and merchant caravans putting together the last of their shipments and supplies for the high seas and road to come.

Pratchett made no effort in putting in small-talk or any discernible amount of friendliness in the port; by all appearances, he was on business and little more. The human, not so young a man anymore as he self-described, quietly shifted though the crowding of dockworkers and sailors on his way down level after level of Booty Bay’s twisting and stacked terraces.

His destination was close-by; the official Port Authority building. Pratchett wasted no time outside, forcing his way through numerous burly-looking men and work as he picked his way through the crowded interior. Much of what was going on was official business; as official as a goblin port could be. Some shipments were inspected as they were claimed, with smaller batches being hand-surveyed by gregarious green goblins and their profit-inclined subordinates. Pratchett made his way around a group with quartz crystal in a massive chest, the cliche of the container enough to give him pause for a moment as the goblin overseeing it proclaimed its authenticity as ‘high-grade Azerite.’

Pratchett slipped into a side-alcove away from the crush, bobbing his head in a quick jingling nod. The gesture didn’t catch the goblin’s attention, but the sound of tungsten certainly seemed to grab him. “’ey, wha’cha need?” Will took a seat on the stool before the goblin’s little makeshift counter, noting that there was nothing comfortable about his position so low to the ground. “Inquiring on a pair of ships coming in to dock today. Steamscar’s Snarl and the Brinedragon.”

The goblin gave the human a look of brief confusion, before shrugging uncaringly and going for a set of paperwork before him. The green dockworker rifled through his paperwork before pulling out a brief manifest, scanning it over before turning it around and showing a pair of entries mid-list with a stubby finger. A few ship’s entries separated them, but not enough to make them difficult to group together visibly. “Here. On time. The Snarl is gonna be later in the afternoon, but the Brinedragon’s gonna get in sometime soon, once we get these FRIGGIN’ JABBERING GIMPS OUTTA HERE!” The yelling was directed outside, causing a crash of crystals and wood. Will simply nodded once, a firm gesture to cut the pleasantries with the goblin dockworker short. “Very well. Ah, keep it real, yeah?” Will offered a weak smile to the goblin as he stood from the small stool, immediately stepping out from the alcove as quickly as he had descended into it. The goblin just gave him a raised eyebrow and bland look, obviously not entirely enthused by the brief moment of cultural appropriation by the human.

Brinedragon was a ship of the line first and foremost. The sin’dorei fielded a great number of smaller ships across Azeroth for their work in the war and elsewhere, with the vast majority of their efforts going towards back-and-forth travel to Quel’Danas and supplies for their research outposts and what few townships they claimed. Seeing a full-sized vessel on the open seas sporting the colors of the Blood Elves and their styling was a sight to behold. The Brinedragon did not disappoint. A 128-gun first-rate ship, it was clearly from another time and another place beyond the current politics and industrialization of the Horde and Alliance conflict.

Will didn’t bother going to the ship himself. He stayed abroad in Booty Bay, settling in to a small bar with cheap ale and simple bar food for the sake of keeping a low profile while awaiting his first point of business.

“‘ey, yo! Get outta the way! Who do ya think ya are, standin’ around like an idiot huh?!” The voice outside was loud, clearly goblin, and very agitated. A few other voices spoke out in protest, only for the goblin to let out a stream of his native language before continuing. “And ‘yer mother!”

Will sighed.

This was not your standard example of a goblin. Molten gold eyes and light green skin aside, he just didn’t look much like the standard example of his people. A big, beefy green male humanoid, he wore a constant shit-eating grin and always seemed to be at ease wherever he stood or sat. Decked out in mail webbing and thick plate enough to crush a mortal figure, adorned in fiery regalia and engineering marvels, wielding a backpack of weapons at any given moment; Jax Deadhead was a pariah among goblins. Charitable work! Donations of goods to those in need! A bottom-line for his shipping interests that didn’t add unnecessary tax?!

These reasons and more were why Will could handle the goblin. In small doses, but handle him all the same. The human shifted in his seat as the goblin posed his question, draping an arm over the back of his chair as he looked to the not-so-diminutive man across from him. “I have seen no sign of them, myself. It could be the Dark Lady’s work, but I suspect the Disputation would have a number of emergency plans for such a situation.” Jax spit hot fire in response, his words coming out in very quick Common with the accent one could only dread to expect from a goblin. “So wha’cha sayin’ is, they done goofed or they straight-up bailed on everybody else?”

Will sighed. “I do not think it is that simple, but yes. Frostcowl would not be caught so unawares. And I seriously doubt, with all of my familiarity on the matter, that he would simply die ingloriously. He adores his plans and scheming for whatever reason.” The goblin threw his hands into the air and kicked back in his seat, almost toppling it over before throwing his weight forward and almost climbing on the table they sat at. “Thrall’s Heaving Man-Sack, so what’s the point? Ya think they’re gonna just pop up outta nowhere like ‘ey yo ‘sup bitches, we’re here to say the muthafuckin’ day’ or somethin’?”

Will just gave Jax a look; eyes staring straight at the goblin as he tilted his head down slightly and to the left. His face was expressionless, save for the small amount of disapproval in the corners of his mouth. “Yes. Absolutely. Unquestionably.” Jax threw his hands in the air again, a repeat performance of his prior response. Expect this time he did not lean forward; the goblin simply stayed up against the back of his chair, arms crossing over his chest and pouting visibly. “Fuckin’ drama queen. So what about you, kid? Ya fuckin’ bitches and makin’ it rain in Stormwind? Find any sayaad to neck yet? Any sign of the folks from The Call of Azeroth ya thought ya lost?”

Pratchett waited for the list of questions to end, greatly admiring for a few long moments the sheer patience and resolve Sunsheer must have shown to be able to share a building with the goblin; much less a table. Once Jax stopped Will shrugged, a helpless sort of questioning motion on his own answer as he gave it. “Not exactly. I am tracking down what I can of my publisher and printer; the both of whom have decided to continue producing my work even after I left. Residuals and payment are coming, thusfar. As for the rest... I don’t know.” Will lets out a breath at his own admission, looking to the side as he speaks. “I am in Stormwind to relax and figure things out. Met a few people. Been drinking as well, for better or for worse. Brief contact with the Black Harvest and running into The Deacon aside, I haven’t really been up to my usual. Met a lovely woman; a contortionist and dancer. Fairly skilled performer actually.”

“Aw shit,” Jax starts as he rubs his gauntleted hands together. “Now we’re gettin’ into the good shit. Give’er the ol’ One-Two Guitarist Special yet? Or ya just get shitfaced and went to pound town in that dwarf trash heap ya stay in?” “Light, no. No, nothing like that. She’s a good person, very friendly and good company. She has her own problems and difficulties going on at the moment, so I don’t...” Will takes in a breath, looking for the right phrasing for the goblin. “I’m not looking to go deep or go home on this, Deadhead. Intellectual companionship isn’t a foreign concept for you, I know.”

“Yeah well, the last chick I got that with got melted by Ember’s pet not-a-fuckin’-dragon, so I ain’t THAT familiar with it anymore man. Still though, ya ain’t gettin’ yer dick wet in the big city? Plenty of ‘fugees from across the world there! Enough strange to go weeks without tappin’ the same thing twice!” Will just blanked at Jax again, the corners of his mouth showing far more disapproval than before. “Light, please, change the subject. Got anything to smoke?”

#Willaude Pratchett #the shadow of westfall #Jaxtox #Randrice Frostcowl #daeren benneth

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