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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

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DEVIL MAY GRIND

(I)- Can You Touch This?

Dante/ AMAB! Reader

Series Summary: From a surprise rendezvous to a male strip club on your birthday to a private dance, you end up seeing eye-to-eye rather than eye-to-groin with a cowboy stripper named Dante Sparda.

Work Summary: A shy and short homebody celebrating your birthday with friends, you end up somewhere you’d never expect: a male strip club. And what you’d also never expect is a certain red-devil/cowboy stripper to lay his special treatment on you.

Tags/Warnings:18+, AMAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Minors Do Not Try It, Wholesome Filth

Rodeo’s Two-Pieces: And after months, Rodeo presents the male version of this soon-to-be filth. *tilts cowboy hat over eyes and leans in seat*

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

It wasn’t your fault, they promised you were all going for a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant. No loud noises, no crowds, and especially, you didn’t even know why you had to specify, no naked guys! That’s what happened at first. You went and blew out your candles on your cake at a nice place, but then things got weird. Your friends had got you thoughtful gifts, except one of them who promised to give it to you after another “surprise.”

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

So when you couldn’t hear your thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled-up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills.

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you.

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

Luckily, your ability to disappear in a room, with your meek personality and small stature, came in handy in these situations. The tall and buff guys your friends screamed over seemed to prefer the company of the more extroverted and thirsty. While other tables farther from the stage had easy contact with the not-themed strippers, you were all confronted with the stage floor dancers.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your favorite pair of dressy sneakers. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“First time?” The bartender asked, sliding your fruity drink to you. You fiddled with the napkin. A woman posed in the corner with the logo “Devil May Cry” to the side of her, all lined in neon pink.

“Oh!... Yeah, it is.” You mumbled shyly. You blushed at his blue-eyed stare. Luckily, he wore a collared white shirt so you could look at him without bleeding out of your nose. He was very handsome, with rugged features and slight facial hair. His stark white hair shined even in the dim lighting.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“It’s alright. Your next rounds on me if you stay a lil longer.” He winked, wiping a glass. A few other people came and went, requesting all sorts of raunchy-titled drinks. Despite that, he leaned on the table where you sat, making idle conversation.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice man. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.

“What did you wish for?”

“Peace and quiet.” He laughed at that, gesturing to your friends who screamed and clapped at a dark-skinned stripper who ripped off his pants.

“With those friends?” He chuckled.

“They’re a lot more restrained. This is an exception.” You whined.

The conversation grew longer. You learned that Dante worked here with his twin brother Vergil. He loved pizza and strawberry ice cream, along with nice motorcycles. A total manly man, if you asked yourself.

You found a safe space talking to him since you didn’t have to look at nude guys with your back turned.

You were hoping to talk the night away until a similarly white-haired male with a serious glare rounded the corner.

Swiping back a few stray hairs, the esteemed brother Vergil knocked the smile off his twin’s face.

“You fool! Your shift has been over for some time now.” He snapped. Dante rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, this is old douchebag.” You giggled at his comment, quickly stopping when meeting eyes with the frigid twin.

“Have you been speaking ill of me? I will-” Dante threw a towel at his brother’s face before leaving the bartending station. By leaving, he jumped over the counter.

“Hey, (Y/N), nice talking to you. I’ll see you later.” The white-haired man left to the employee’s room.

“Alright-” You muttered. You’d sit, but Vergil’s cold glare prompted you to leave and rejoin your friends.

“Where were you? Chatting up the bartender?”

“Look at you. Being social in a strip club.” They teased.

After a few more dancers, you couldn’t help but miss the blue-eyed bartender with his quips and casual flirtiness.

Suddenly, the music and lights went off. The crowd stirred. Your friend grabbed your arm.

“Oh boy, they’re gonna need a mop after this.”

“Ew!” You cried out. Your friends sang that one horribly sexual song from the radio. Something about parking a truck in a garage and about wet-

A shirtless DJ grabbed the mic.

“And now, for our next entertainer, we have the Legendary Lady Killer. Hold onto your panties and your wedding rings, you’re all in for the ride of your life.”

The lights were turned back on from back to front. On stage, stood a muscular man with a cowboy hat and shawl. His legs were perfectly framed by black leather chaps and boots. You turned as red as his shawl as you could see his formidable bulge from yards across.

His spurs clinked on the floor as people began to cheer at his physique. Your jaw dropped in shock.

White hair.

“Ladies and gents, I got some questions for y’all.” He drawled, lowering his hat.

“Yes! I’m single!” Someone yelled from the back. He chuckled as others screamed with agreement.

“That’s nice ma’am. But really, I got three questions.” He made his way down the stage, his shadow covering your table.

He palmed his chest and abs, showing white chest hairs and slicked-down muscles.

“Can you touch this?” Everyone screamed for yes. He tutted.

“No, no, no.” He waggled his finger. He spun and exposed his lush tush. He was packing it front and back and you blushed while putting your face in your hands.

His hands groped his butt. Even with his giant hands, he still had more ass to spare.

“Can you touch this?” The screams grew louder. He waggled his finger again, wiggling his butt.

“No, no, no.” The crowd awed. He turned back around, a cocky grin on his face.

“Now,” He pointed to the crowd.

His palms groped the leather that concealed his huge package.

“Can you touch this?” Your friend threw a wad of cash at him, hitting him in the nipple. He stood unflinching.

“No, no, no.” He drew out each word.

“These are my laws.” Putting his hands on his hips, he rocked left to right, clicking his spurs.

“But I see a hell of a lot of lawbreakers here tonight.”

He shifted to walk around the chair placed behind him. He sat on it backward, legs spread to place his groin in the spotlight.

“And I don’t see a cop in sight.” He pointed at the DJ.

“Hit it!” Music blaring, he did his number. And boy, was the DJ right to warn you. Dante practically made sweet love to the chair, flipping his head back.

Hips circling and then pistoning the air, sweat trailed down his pecs.

You ended up throwing a few bills, hoping to avoid eye contact. It failed as he slid to his knees to the edge of the stage and crawled off the ledge onto your table. Like a preying tiger, he made his way over to you.

Thank god you had health insurance, your blood pressure was going off the charts.

Your friends lost their heads, throwing bills and screaming like banshees. But he wasn’t interested in them. His eyes preyed after your own, baby blues on an absolute beast.

“Wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy, handsome?” He purred as he traced your jaw. Your skin jumped as you internally imploded. This was was too sensual and people were watching, for goodness sake!

“(Y/N), if you don’t agree I will cancel your Barnes and Noble membership.” Your friend threatened.

“Come on, spare this outlaw some sugar?” You didn’t have a moment to think. Dante threw his hat on your head and carried you onto the table and to the stage.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” You shrieked.

He ran hot. So hot. Your skin burned at contact with him, pressed up against his chest as he stood you in front of the chair he practically humped.

“Take a seat, sir.” You blushed at his sensual persona, not sure where the kind bartender and the suave cowboy started and ended.

Obediently, you turned the chair around and sat with your ankles crossed. Dante tutted in disapproval.

His hands lingered by your legs.

“May I?” He asked. You shook your head slowly, feeling his callused hands on your thighs. He firmly spread your legs and stood over you on the chair.

As if that wasn’t enough, his arm muscles bulged and twitched as he ripped off his leather chaps. He ripped the chaps. There were no zippers or velcro straps. That was all him!

Your face a hair’s width from his abs, he gently took your hands and traced his pecs with them. He growled and winked at you.

Despite the one-in-a-million situation you were in, you shrank at the many peering eyes of the other women and bar patrons. Your anxiety was seen by Dante, who tilted your head up.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. If you’re nervous, just give me a purple nurple or something, alright?” You laughed at his idea of a safe word and nodded.

“Okay, Dante.”

And like that, it was like you pulled a trigger. Dante grinded on your form and explored his peak-conditioned skin with your own hands.

You gasped as he led your hands down his front to his leather shorts. You couldn’t stop looking with widened eyes at his crotch. You had read erotica before, describing the male member in the throes of passion, yet this was the first time you had been this close to anything like those erotic novels.

It was obscene! Why did it seem to get larger? How was he allowed to carry that thing around without a license?!

“Hey, eyes up here.” He teased as you snapped your head up.

“O-oh! Sorry.” You whispered. Your blood had rushed to your head and you had grown deaf to your friends’ yells of validation.

“Grab him by the buns!” One of your friends yelled. Dante turned around to make eye contact with her.

With a grin, he slid your hands to the back. What he didn’t expect was you to squeeze.

“Whoa now, kitty.” He purred. You gave a watery smile.

Suddenly, a water bottle was thrown at his head. With lightning reflexes, he caught it after it bounced off of him.

“Hey! Stage times’ over, you fucking show pony.” A short-haired woman with mismatching eyes called out. Dante scoffed.

“Just givin’ a nice gentleman some lovin’.” He argued.

“No, get off the stage, Dante.”

“Five more minutes?”

“NOW.” He sighed. Getting off of your lap, he kissed your hand that was resting on his thigh. Lord, if you died right now, that’d be fine.

“Glad to have this dance.” He flirted.

“Y-you too.” Taking your hand, he took you for another surprise and swept you off your feet. You squeaked as he handed you to another dancer on the ground. The club-goers cheered as dancers arrived, dressed like businessmen with briefcases.

You were promptly seated, head dizzy from everything that just happened. You watched as he took his leave as if he didn’t just cause you to get feverish from how hot he was. Your friend hugged you.

“Nice work! You were so lucky!” Another friend plucked the hat off your head.

“Ah! He left his hat!” You exclaimed as you took it from her hands.

“A souvenir.”

For the rest of the night, you held onto the hat and traced the red stitching. You never saw Dante for the rest of the night, his brother in charge of the bar service.

Finally, before the last round of dancers, you were tapped on the shoulder. You found yourself staring into much harsher blue eyes.

One of your friends threw money at him, which he growled at.

“I am not an entertainer. Well, not right now.” He explained. He handed you a drink with a napkin on the bottom.

“My buffoon of a brother said to keep the hat. Although, I’m not sure why you would.”

“I-”

“The drink is on the house. Good evening with you all.”

He walked off, and you took your drink. You realized it was the same one you ordered when you got to the bar.

“Hey dude, take a look.” A well-manicured nail pointed to the napkin. You saw in red pen an arrow pointed to the folded corner.

You shakily opened it to reveal a series of numbers and words, along with a card that flitted onto the table.

Tonight was fun, wanna do it again? The card’s for a private dance, just call and ask for Dante Sparda. No crowds, only you and me. No Lady barking up my tree for appreciating beauty either - DS

A little heart with an arrow through its center was scrawled in a corner. You picked up the laminated card and saw it was for a free private dance. Your heart beat out of your chest.

Your friends laughed as you immediately stuck it in your pocket, along with the note. The club closed and you were all ushered out. The night was pitch black when you emerged from the debauchery that was the Devil May Cry strip club.

As your other wasted companions were stuffed into the car, you sat shotgun to the sober and designated driver.

You were silent the car ride home, laying your head against the window. You thought about that white-haired flirt’s remarks and how gentle he was to you.

Waving and embracing your wonderful friends, you left for your apartment with all your gifts. However, the little slips of paper in your pocket weighed the heaviest on your mind.

With your keys in your hand, you climbed up the stairs home.

After closing the door, you slid down the wall and let out a pleased sigh.

“Best birthday ever!” You said to no one in particular.

#amab reader #dante x reader #dante x male reader #devil may grind #devil may cry

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weirdo-with-a-nametag · 3 years

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Brain is tv static with random frames interspersed

Think I'm like. Really stressed and jumping between topics to try and find something that helps / feels good

Topics:

Anyone know a good health tracking app for adhd people? I want one that like pops up when you open your phone, maybe? But is unobtrusive. Like maybe you just rate your mood or whatever when you open your phone, and it closes, and you go about your business. I just hate every app and paper method I've tried but really want to track some stuff

Pigeon. ? Pigeon as pet?

Service animals re: cats, pigeons, my cat specifically, and then also ESAs and also what to use as treats while training my cat (he's pretty happy to learn behaviors with praise and pets as reinforcement, but treats would make everything move much faster, but I haven't found something I want to give him so we've just been y'know. Chillin)

Service animals re: what tasks can my pet potentially do that would help me? I don't really know a lot about service animals and there is a Huge range. If anyone has suggestions, or places to read about it, I'd appreciate it! Mostly thinking they may help with anxiety, sensory, and mobility/fatigue related stuff. Not much of a need for medical alerts.

Bioactive enclosures for my snakes, need to research their biomes and make progress on designs and equipment specifications

Also. Hit a seriously hard patch and haven't been handling them much at all this month so that's not great

Casting stuff. Saw jewelry today made of metal casts of claws, skulls, etc, and they were really well done and made me want to do that

Some taxidermy / vulture culture stuff I won't get into right now

Puzzles????

How to organize my room

Need a shower

Need to organize bathroom

So Much Schoolwork

Uhhhhh trying, but not making much headway, to figure out how I want to do my music collection. Also really need to clean my records..

Make?

Food??? Ew.

Dental hygiene ://

Plampts. So many. Houseplants need maintenance, many need repotting. Keep taking in people's problem plants and like, they're doing better, largely, after being trimmed and watered and whatnot, but need repotting. Also need to trim some aquarium plants.

Also need to put water in tanks. And spray nepenthes.

Laundry.

Gotta pick up trash in my room. There's so much. Everywhere. Why.

Schoolwork. I'm so behind. So, so stuck. Kind of feel like I'm dying.

Going on a picnic tomorrow. Have to figure out what still needs doing for that, probably need to go to the store.

Leo needs water. I'm so....ugh, I'm trying so hard, but it feels impossible. I do my best to take good care of my pets, and I think they live pretty good lives most of the time, but sometimes I get like This and completely drop off the face of the earth and then like, wake up or whatever and two weeks have passed by and I have not cleaned a water bowl! That's a serious problem!!!! I do not know how to combat that, really, besides more reminders. Having someone around who is willing to like, help, when things are especially hard, would be great, but I don't live with my partner right now and do not feel like I can ask anyone here for that. But I can't put my animals at risk. I check on them every day, and if their bowls are dirty I do take them out and clean them, but sometimes (like now) i cannot get myself to do it without a pressure like a dirty bowl, or a feeding day. And like, it's really important that they have clean water. I'm talking to myself here but like, if anyone has advice. Please. With the tank redesigns and upgrades, the bowls will be more accessible, which will help because one of them is very heavy at the angle I have to pick it up, and another requires moving a lot of branches and is best to take out while the snake is out (this is Leo) which is fine because I love my boy, but adds time to the process, and makes it harder to start, you know? Maybe if I just got more bowls - I could take the bowl out and immediately replace it, fill the new one, and replace the decor and snake, and then clean the bowl as a separate task? That would be easier for my brain. Currently I have a Specific bowl I prefer to use for each tank, and then everything else is Just In Case, but I mean. Acquiring extras is something I want to do anyway, and it may help with several problems, so. Yeah. I'll try that. But also, any other ideas, guys?

Anxiety: can't stop picking at my face, skin, nails, cuticles, scalp, pretty much everywhere with callouses, also scratched a mole off my face, which is something I've been trying Not to do for a while, so that's...not great. Can't find my earmuffs, and also all of my headphones are painful? Ears are really sensitive lately.

Been playing a lot of Moth Game (flutter: starlight if you wanna be friends say hey I don't know how to do it but would enjoy talking about moths if nothing else. The game is just like, an idle ish collecting game with cutesy versions of different species, and very little actual information, but it's still fun, and if anyone else is on there and also Into Moths like I am, hiiiii) and like it's fun and cute but also greatly impacting my productivity, and raises my stress levels during events, which is most days, so the game has. Not been helping. But I can't stop because then I'll miss Exclusive Moths.

Anyway. Had baklava and two mugs of Thai tea today and the sugar has made me nauseous.

Trying to journal. Hurts to write. Also takes too long. Also my handwriting is very bad. But typing is..not as good

Want to draw. Thinking about drawing cats

Plants again! Want to make seed bombs, have seeds, have most of the other ingredients, just need to put em together, basically.

Really sad :(

Or am I?

Weird noise coming from dining room?

Birds. Spent half an hour at least on the deck tonight listening to a hundred different bird calls (literally) to identify one I was hearing, it was a pine siskin, which I checked early on but the recording was bad and I didn't realize which call was identified. Anyway, cool to put a name to a face, so to speak.

Need to practice for ASL

So much.....to do...

Only had like >3 hours of work this week which was not great because money, but also like I'm really feeling those 3 hours....

My cat is basically refusing to come into my room? Which is very strange and I'm worried something is Off but cannot figure out what. Also means less cuddles which means I'm sad.

It feels strange whenever people follow me, the attention is nice but I have no idea what content y'all are here for. So to everyone: hi, enjoy, hope my random personal posts aren't a surprise to anyone who followed for like. News reblogs and informational stuff.

Do I even have it in me to..be successful in school? Should I drop out of college? I'm struggling really hard and do not feel like I'm building on the skills I need to continue, so like. Uh.

My dad is being. Abrasive.

Mom and grandma are very angry lately

Housemate is also angry, about things i thought we were on good terms about, so I am stressed because like,, are we okay?

Can't find my eye mask :(

Yoga? Like...restorative yoga? Need to track down my PT stuff. And. Do it.

Need to put the stickers on my license plates....oops...

Still haven't found my antidepressants! Yay!

Do I want to store my stuff in open bins, or with lids? Which stuff needs spill protection and stacking capability and which stuff needs easy access?

How to earn money without..chaos

Gotta go to the pet store tomorrow. Have to compile my list of pet store items i need. Uhhhhhhhhhh

Also I have an essay due tomorrow that I've barely started. So. Wooooooo

Kt tape for supporting arches / inner ankles? I keep messing up my ankles, and part of it is walking wrong because I don't have the energy to engage the muscles in my feet/legs right to like, avoid injury, and part of it is I just need new shoes inserts. But i wear slippers a lot and they do not have arch support and it hurts. PT to help with this also but Where Is It

Family can't seem to get dish soap I can use, so I've just been having to avoid washing anything by hand, or being in the general kitchen area while anyone uses the stuff, which has led to more of my dishes sitting out, and more conflict over dishes. Lovely.

How hard is it for parents to learn they have to respect boundaries? Very hard, apparently. And you're supposed to just sort of remind people, and explain, over and over and over but like at this point my self worth is actually pretty good and the lifetime of proof that they do not want to listen? That's making me want to stop trying. Like, if you're not going to respect my boundaries I'm just not going to involve you in my life. I'm not talking to my dad right now because of this. Maybe I'll decide to lay things out to him, again and again and again again, maybe not. And I'm comfortable saying that's on him.

How to drink water

Am I dehydrated or are my hands just completely callous now. My fingertips have such hard skin. Why? It's uncomfortable. This is part of why I've been biting them.

Also testosterone. Been having a lot of trouble doing my shots, because anxiety and physical freakouts, but also not feeling super urgent about it. Which I'm realizing may be a sign i need to look at the effects so far and the possible effects of continuing, and see what they make me feel. It's possible I'm where I want to be as far as T, and don't really want to stay on it. A big thing for me is a deeper voice, so it seems time to take a look at whether I like my voice where it is or want to see if it'll drop any more. Etc etc

Miss my lil sisters

Saw a lot of cool rocks today. Huge (like hand sized) ammonite for $28. May go back and buy one because. Wow.

Want to plant food plants

Also my natives. Whole garden plot standing empty with a bunch of stuff waiting in nursery pots, needing to go in the ground. Because I can't get out of bed. Love that. Stuff is dying out there, I'm dying in here, there's a poetry to it and I do not want to romanticize suffering so I will say this: I brought a Bucket full of moss home a month ago and planted it and now go outside sometimes to drench my moss and it is very rewarding because the stuff is just so green. Incredible. When the rest of my plants are finally in the ground, that feeling will only intensify. But, for now, the moss is very nice.

Made a glow in the dark bead lizard from memory during therapy yesterday, and I love him. Also, still struggling with bringing up autism and psychosis topics with my therapist. Still very worried about. Things. Would like to get a new person? But sometimes she is helpful? And we have a routine. It's very hard to break the routine. Maybe I can set some time aside during the summer, to figure out what to do there.

Term ends in a couple weeks. The task of catching up, of passing, seems impossible. I really need to pass my courses. I'm on academic warning, because my GPA is lower than it should be, and if I can pass all of my classes this term I can get off academic warning but otherwise I'm not sure what will happen to my financial aid.

My phone is playing the same 50-100 songs on shuffle and I don't even particularly like most of them and it is very strange

Got my face wipes! Hooray, i can wash my face again

Been eating too much sugar in general. It's making my joints hurt more, and the nausea

Pet a dog the other day. I miss that. It would be really nice to have a dog in the house again. The exuberance, the cuddles, the tail wagging, the walks... I'd really like that. Maybe once I'm out in my room, tanks and catio built and everyone is situated, I'll look into getting a dog instead of a cat next. Was planning on holding off in case I'm not physically able to take them out on walks and such, but I've been pretty successful at doing this job, and I think that my main hurdle for walking really is motivation. Dog walking is a strong motivator for me. Best to start by fostering, or just do Wag, for a while though. I'm feeling overwhelmed with my current responsibilities, and here I am talking about getting a dog. Good job, me

How do you get wax off of somewhat water soluble rocks? My housemate broke my lava lamp on some of my rock collection and I am not sure how to get some of them clean without damage.

I am...pretty sure there are collared doves nesting over my room but it seems they're less common around here than I thought? But they are..pretty distinctive. Like if I'm wrong, what are those birds. Some very distinctly colored feral pigeons? Who are nesting here, in a tree, without their flock, and who happen to have pretty much the exact same pattern?

Probably should go to the dollar store and get some bins for organizing

Been wanting to keep a bin by the door and stock it with stim/fidget stuff people can just .have ..like extras of some of my favorites and other things i can get ahold of, to offer to my friends who haven't really had the chance to explore the world of stim toys

Hands are really just not doing great the last several weeks. Arthritis type pain cropping up more and more in all the little joints, making it hurt more to write, type, or just use them for whatever. Coordination isn't great because of that distraction, and because my hands/arms are slow to respond and kinda weak. Most people would say I'm not using them enough but I've been doing 15ish hours of manual labor per week, so maybe it's the other direction? More water would help. If only it wasn't so heavy.

I haven't taken a single shower since I started my job. Which was March 29th. That's not great.

Practiced parallel parking today. 10/10 still very bad at it.

Having anxiety that my friends think I'm lying about things, faking, and are watching me to see if I'll slip up. So that sucks. Can either talk about that directly or indirectly, or just shut up about those things until I can get my brain under control again. I'm not sure right now if the reassurance would work as a reality check or make me believe it more, right now, so might hold off on the talking bit for a little while.

Saw, smelled, picked a couple pretty roses. Good times

At this point I'm just trying to list all my thoughts so that maybe I'll be able to sleep and not worry I'll forget

My mom has put her spider plant on the deck, and it has maybe five living leaves. I have no idea how she killed such a well established spider plant, the last time I saw it it was so happy. Did she stick it in a corner and forget to water it? Whatever happened, it is now in the Plant ER, so hopefully I'll be able to...help get it on the up and up again

Leo is such a pretty noodle. He's so pretty. He's posing. Hi, baby boy.

Oh, he saw me moving around and decided to come say hi. Sorry little man, i did not mean to disturb you. Please resume lounging. I can't bring you out right now, I'm trying to sleep.

Also, terrariums. Water features. Need to ask. Someone. The one who was making that super cool garter snake enclosure and blogging the progress? With the lazy river and pool? About maintenance on that kind of setup. My milk snake really enjoys water, and I'd love to put a water feature in his tank. But I'm unclear on how to keep it clean, or honestly where to start. Don't want any huge falls or anything, though it actually may not make the humidity too high if I did maybe a small drip wall into the pool? That seems like something he would enjoy, and a good way to support different types of plants. But like, that's the thing, it's bioactive and I haven't done that before and no amount of research is ever enough.

Oh, Shogun has a dirt hat. How cute. I love when they do that

See, this is the thing. My snakes make me so happy. All three of them are actually hanging out where I can see them from my bed right now, and it's really nice. I want their lives to be the best possible, and I think I have the resources to do that. Which is so exciting. Now if only my brain and body would cooperate. It would hurt quite a lot to have to re-home any of them, but the most important thing is their health and quality of life, you know? If I can't get my act together somewhat, it may be that one or all of them would be better off with another keeper. I don't know. It's just, i talk about all these tank ideas and all this husbandry standards stuff but how much of it actually gets applied to my own animals whose lives are in my hands? How well am I caring for them, really?

Oh!!! My red thread! I thought that was gone forever.

Anyway, please do not worry. My snakes are healthy. I pay attention, and watch for signs of illness, and they're okay. There will always be places to improve, and the water is a big one, but most of the time i change their water out frequently, I'm just worried because of bad depression and fatigue times, you know? I'm working on making the most self sustaining systems i can, in part so that I am sure they'll be okay if I mess up sometimes. Just saying this because I hope you guys don't feel like you need to worry about the welfare of my pets. They're okay, i just always want better for them, is all.

Anyway, the sun is coming up and I should probably go to sleep. So uh, thanks for reading, if you read all of this randomness, and if anyone has thoughts or advice on anything in this post, i would welcome it! Good night!

#mine #long post #snakes #pets #food m #uhhhhhhhhhhhh whatever else needs tagging

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teacup-crow · 4 years

Text

The Christmas Runner

On the 12th Christmas Eve after the world ended, Molly and Carena told someone the story of the Christmas Runner. Major end of S3 spoilers, very minor spoilers for early S5.

I spent all day in bed and this happened? Will probably go on AO3 once I polish it (and when it’s actually close to Christmas). Promise it’s wholesome!

(In my headcanon here Carena is 15, Molly is 13 and Sara is 7)

“Sam’s givin’ you how much to watch her?” Carena Skeet spluttered, towering over the younger girl, leaning her hands over her head on the brick wall of the housing block. The moon was a sharpened, thin crescent, and lights winked in the guard towers. Over in the main barn, they could faintly hear the twanging of a slightly out-of-tune guitar and some tipsy singing, suggesting the grown-ups’ Christmas Eve party was already in full swing.

Everyone said that Molly Harrison was the prettiest girl in Abel, with blonde curly hair and eyes blue enough to knock out zoms, but right now she was shifting foot-to-foot, looking more irritated than anything else.

“A loaf of crusty bread and a pot of blackcurrant jam, and… you’re not having any of it, Caz.”

“Dr Cohen only promised me a bloody book!” Carena pouted, but avoided stomping her foot. She’d about grown out of that. Nobody would dare call her pretty, but she was too, in a fiercely intimidating way. It was two months until she turned sixteen and could finally start Runner training, and she’d already begun practicing first thing every morning, tearing around the training shed when the sun had barely risen. Where Molly was soft and homely, she was angled and muscular. “You can read it if you let me have a spoonful.”

“That’s a rubbish trade and you know it! I won’t always go along with everything you tell me to do, you know, it’s not fair-“

“Oh blah blah blah, quit whinin’, let’s just get the job done before they realise they double-booked.” She dropped her hands and stalked away. Her foster dad’s old fireman jacket was too big on her, but wearing the king’s clothing added to her swagger.

“You don’t like kids,” Molly pointed out, stumbling a little behind her as she strode off to the front door.

“Kids is fine. Kids is kids. I have, like, fifteen siblings. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, and you don’t like any of them. And they’re all the same age as you!”

“What can I say, I’m not good at sharing.” She turned and gazed pointedly at Molly, who shrugged it off. “It doesn’t take two people to babysit a seven year old.”

“Yeah, so go away, Caz. You don’t even want a book.”

“Gotta get on Dr Myers’ and Sam’s good side if I want to be recommended for Runner, don’t I? Janine respects their opinion more than anyone else except Runner Five.”

“So go and sit on guard duty with Runner Five and earn their approval.”

“You jokin’? Five’s batshit.”

“They’re also the only reason we’re not dead, so maybe you should be a bit more respectful.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to tell me what to do, Molly Harrison...” Carena’s tone was affronted, teetering on nasty. Then she stopped herself. “But yeah, you’re right. Five’s batshit bonkers, but they’re awesome.”

“And scary?” Molly added.

“Yeah, if you’re a wuss.”

They’d reached the green wooden door of Maxine and Paula’s apartment, a wreath on the outside, a menorah in the window. Sara had hung paper chains all down their part of the corridor. It made both the teenagers smile for a second or two.

Carena knocked, to no reply. She tried again.

“That’s weird,” she muttered.

“Sara, you in there?” Molly tried, peeking through the window.

“Sara, we brought chocolate!”

This caused a patter of feet to charge towards the door. Carena grinned. “First rule of kids is lie through your teeth.”

“MOLLY!” Sara sprang through the door in a bright blur of red sweater and green trousers, and jumped into Molly’s outstretched arms. “Did you bring Galileo too?”

Years before, when Archie Jensen had lost Mildred van der Graff to an explosion, Five had managed to get their own chicken back to Abel relatively unscathed. Molly, already interested in animals even as a small child, had adopted Galileo Figaro, a now-geriatric menace with a beak that had lasted longer than anyone expected. The hen had strong memories of her dinosaur roots, and, apart from Molly, Five and Sara, would attack almost anyone who dared enter the coop.

“Galileo’s an old hen, she’s resting.”

“She went cluck-cluck-cluck over the rainbow bridge to Ed Harrison’s stomach, you mean.”

“Caz! Dad would never!” Molly looked scandalised as Carena burst out laughing at her own joke. Thankfully, it went over Sara’s head as she dropped down from Molly’s arms and stared up at Carena’s jacket in awe. Caz ruffled her mop of springy hair affectionately. She liked this kid, at least. It was very difficult not to.

“Hello, baby Sara, how’s it goin’?”

“Good, Princess Caz! I’m making a jigsaw puzzle. It’s got a million trillion pieces!”

“Sounds like an absolute riot. Tell you what, Molly can finish it with you and I’ll heat up the rations.”

Molly nodded despite herself, taking the pudgy little hand in hers and stepping into the cosy apartment. “Okay, let’s go, hopefully we have all the pieces...”

“Daddy had to remake some of the missing ones but he said you can barely tell the difference, sort of! Anyway, you said you had chocolate?”

This was still one of the oldest housing blocks in Abel, but instead of enough bunks for eight people the two rooms comfortably housed the little family of three, bathroom splitting a bedroom on one side and a family room on the other with a table and a bookshelf and warm candle-lit lamps too high for Sara to knock over on the mantelpiece. Woollen throws covered the kind of battered armchairs you sank into and artwork lined the walls. There was even a tidy kitchen corner with a kettle and a camp stove and a stack of chipped plates and mugs. It was one of Carena’s favourite places: better even than sharing a room with some of the roller girls on a rare trip to see her foster dad in London; much better than her own springy bunk in the children’s dorms, the wall behind her chequered curtain plastered in pictures and photos and plans but still not private enough to block out the whining and crying of the little ones all night. It was nice to see a place where a real family lived. When she stood in the centre of the room, she could squeeze her eyes shut and almost picture the faces of her real parents, her actual bedroom, the kitchen they’d had with a white-tiled floor. Or was it sand-coloured tiles? She wasn’t quite sure, not that she’d admit it. Whenever anyone asked, she always said she remembered the pre-zombie world perfectly.

“Caz? Are you heating up the food or...?”

“I’m getting to it!” She stomped towards the stove, where Sara’s parents had already left a few crumbling Tupperware containers of pea soup from the kitchens, and Molly had brought a bowl of eggs to hard boil if they felt snacky. Not particularly inspiring, but then food had been limited for the last week as the kitchens saved all their supplies up for Christmas Day. And none of them knew how to be fussy: Sara and Molly did not remember a time when food was plentiful, and Carena’s last remnants of pickiness had been starved out of her when the Ministry occupied Abel. She’d been nine, and her stomach hadn’t stopped rumbling for that whole terrible ten months. It ached again a little just thinking about it. She wondered if that had left her weaker, permanently damaged her chance to become a Runner or a roller-girl. As if her asthma wasn’t enough of a handicap. Well, she’d do it anyway. Nothing was going to get in her way, least of all the legacy of those who had hurt her foster father.

“Three bowls of green soup, coming up!” She added a lick of salt, and stirred the metal pot. The ruckus from the square was louder now, almost matched by the younger girls playing with the puzzle behind her.

“I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a man’s face or a rat.”

“Daddy’s not a very good draw-er.”

“I mean… he could use some practice, to be honest. Any clue on where this piece should fit, Caz?”

Carena doled out the bowls and spoons. “Looks like a squiggle with earmuffs to me. Sam’s crap at art.”

“Don’t swear in front of Sara!”

“She’ll be fiiiine,” Carena rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Molly.”

“Yeah, lighten up, Molly!” Sara echoed jubilantly. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“Okay, you can cut it out now. Eat your dinner.”

Molly changed the subject, sensing another mischievous outburst of swearing on the horizon. “Are you excited for Christmas, Sara?”

“Yeah! Did you hear that we’re going to have a hog roast and potatoes?! And games! And, and, Ms Marsh knitted me a hat and mittens!”

“How do you know about that?” Molly admonished. Sara immediately looked caught in the act.

“I… maybe heard her and Mama talking about it.”

“Did you ‘maybe hear’ or were you spying on your Mama?”

“I wasn’t spying! People just think kids can’t hear stuff!”

“Hey, spyin’ is a great skill, don’t knock it, Mol. Don’t worry, we won’t tell.”

“I wasn’t spying!” Sara drank down the last of her soup, licked the bowl, and pouted adorably. It was hard for the babysitters not to laugh.

“You know, I think that piece might actually be a clockwork mouse. I think it goes down at the bottom…”

They finished the jigsaw with only four missing pieces. “It’s… a big man in a red coat with a white beard! With lots of toys. I’m going to call him Mr Bob.”

“Sara, that’s Santa. Do you not know about Santa?”

“Father Christmas?” Molly tried, although she wasn’t completely confident either. Sara looked blank.

“You know my father is called Sam Yao?”

“No, baby, Santa Claus is different. He brings things to good children at Christmas.” In the back of her mind was an image of Ed in a terribly cobbled together Santa suit, a tiny Molly on his shoulders. A good memory in a flock of bad ones. It twinged in her chest.

“He’s a Runner?”

Carena sighed. “Basically. Yeah. Santa Claus is just another name for the Christmas Runner. Every Christmas Eve, he goes from township to township, leaving gifts for all of the children.”

“How does he get through the gates?”

“Well, duh, he lets the township leaders know what time he’s going to come on Rofflenet first. And he’s really fast, so he doesn’t need to worry about Raiders or zoms. He’s got a big sled drawn by nine dogs for all the presents!”

Sara’s eyes sparkled. “What are the dogs called?”

“Well, the main one is Rudolf, and he’s an, an Irish red setter. Or he wears a red jumper, like you. Something to do with red. The other ones…” she looked to Molly for assistance, and realised the blonde girl was just as enraptured. “The other ones aren’t important.”

“Caz!”

“Fine! Dasher, Dancer, Prancer… Victor?”

Her mind drew a complete blank. Somewhere in her subconscious, a woman’s voice read the words of Twas the Night Before Christmas, but she couldn’t quite make them out. “Um… Gold, Frankincense, Myrrh and Spam?”

Molly snorted in surprise, her face contorting and shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back a peal of laughter. At least Sara seemed satisfied. “Okay, so how come I don’t hear them all?”

“He sneaks in with magic and only when you’re extremely tired so it’s, like, impossible to stay up to hear. But if you leave a sock on the end of your bed he’s guaranteed to put sommat cool in it.”

“How will he know what I like?”

Molly looked thoughtful. “Maybe you should leave him a list? But you like a lot of things.”

“And my socks are quite small.” Sara looked pensive, kicking her feet in the air to check the size of them. “You two should write lists as well!”

“I’m too old to write one-“ Carena tried, but Sara was already insistently jabbing a pencil and an old receipt at her from a scrap paper drawer in the cabinet.

“These big long lists from the olden days are perfect, we can use the back.”

Carena’s eyes flitted over the receipt. Morrisons. Mango, papaya, hummus, avocadoes. All words she didn’t recognise, foods she would never get to try, and, suddenly intimidated, she laid it down on the table. She wasn’t the strongest reader or writer at the best of times - she’d learned too late, and it was difficult with so many new things in a row. Sara sounded out the letters on her own list as she wrote, her reading already confident.

“Dear Christmas Runner. Thank you for all your hard work, and for taking so many risks to deliver presents…”

Molly glanced over at Carena with a dash of awkward concern. They’d shared a schoolroom as children, and again for the last few years, and had some of the same frustrations, although Molly struggled more with maths and numbers and the purpose and point of algebra and geometry than writing and words. “Can I write both of ours, and you do the pictures? Your drawings are really good.”

Carena nodded, and got up abruptly to wash out the pot and make some tea. Outside, the town choir had drummed up enough numbers to give a few carols a go. She cracked open the window a little to let the sound filter up.

“I would really like some bubblegum but I know it is hard to find and my mothers don’t like it so don’t worry if you can’t find any. I also like marbles and you can fit lots of them in a sock!”

“You’re already running out of space!”

“Okay. Lots of love from Sara Myers-Cohen-Yao, kiss kiss kiss! What are you going to ask for?”

“Nicer soap,” Molly said, quite serious. “And I need a new metal bucket for chicken feed and milking. Mine is close to holes.”

“A bucket won’t fit in a sock!” Sara scoffed with childish mirth. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t know, she has really big feet.” This made Sara giggle even more, and slide off the chair to look at Molly’s feet more closely.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Molly gave Carena a mock-withering stare. “What do you want, Caz? I’m doing yours now.”

Carena thought as the water began to bubble. All she really wanted was to be a Runner. To explore. To get buckets and soap and marbles and gum and make faces back in the township light up. All she wanted was her lungs and airways to do as she commanded, her muscles and heart to work with her, to let her push past exhaustion.

“Eh. Shoelaces would be nice.” She smirked at Molly. “Or some chicken fat.”

“Make one more threat to my chicken’s life, Carena Skeet and you won’t be getting anything from the Christmas Runner!”

“I surrender, I surrender!” Carena laughed, and poured the tea. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be in bed by now, Sara? If we’re going to get this Runner to come at all.”

“But I’m not even tired,” the small girl yawned, still on the floor with her head on the chair and cuddling one of the throws her mothers had stacked on the sideboard.

Molly grabbed the rest of them. “Come on, we’ll build a blanket den, have our tea in there, and Caz can tell you more about the Christmas Runner.”

“Startin’ to feel like Caz does all the work around here,” Carena added, stirring in milk and honey and using the puzzle box as a makeshift tea-tray. “Go on then, lead the way.”

Five minutes later, they’d constructed a large blanket fort and, huddled together inside it, Carena began to tell them everything she remembered from the world before, embellishing the odd detail or ten.

“You’re lying, there were no flying snowmen.”

“Well, I saw a film about them!”

Eventually, Sara curled up and fell asleep, thumb in her mouth, dreaming up a jumble of tinsel and angels and dancing snowmen and turkeys.

Molly smiled, sleepy herself. “You know, you’re actually really good with kids.”

“You’re actually good at lightenin’ up.”

“Yeah! This was fun. I had a really nice evening.”

“Molly…” Carena began, and stopped. She tucked Sara’s blankets around her a little tighter. She didn’t know how to say how safe she felt, maybe for the first time since she lost her brother, warm and wanted and hopeful, surrounded by the peace she wanted so badly to fight for. “I think tomorrow is gonna be a really good day.”

The bell in the square jangled once, twice, twelve times and for once they didn’t panic. It had been years since a horde went anywhere near the gates. This was midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Caz.”

“Merry Christmas.”

***

Carena awoke under a pile of blankets, her head on the end of Sara’s bed, the sound of Dr Cohen humming in the kitchen as she fried the eggs for breakfast, and caught three bulging stockings out of the corner of her eye. A lump came to her throat as she saw the book, as promised, bound in ribbon, that she recognised even without reading the words.

The Abel Runner’s Handbook, fourth ed.

She nearly knocked the wind out of the doctors in her rush to hug them.

#zombies run #zr #carena skeet #molly harrison

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star-doll-universe · 4 years

Text

Michelle Goes to Candy Island (Part 1)

A little something I wrote for @one-piece-dumpster-fire in which her self insert gets to meet some of my WCI OCs. I hope you guys enjoy my nonsense and sheesh I was gonna make this all one thing but now there’s gonna be at least two parts ‘cause this shit got loooong *hides*

The sun was just beginning to poke its head above the chocolate covered hills of Biscuit Island as Michelle made her way through the shadowed halls of the Minister’s Manor. The early morning rays cast little more than a pale glow along the floor as they seeped between the heavy velvet curtains. The large home of Charlotte Cracker was eerily still and silent, not a single person seemed to be awake, which is why Michelle had been rather surprised to wake up and find the spot beside her in bed to be noticeably vacant.

She’d quickly gotten up and dressed for the day, deciding sleep would most likely escape her if her fiancé wasn’t lying next to her. It really was very odd for him to be up this early, and Michelle quickly deduced that it had been either Minister of Biscuit duties, Sweet Commander duties or a mixture of both that had dragged him from their bed this early in the morning. Therefore, she decided to pay him a visit since he was probably not in the best of moods if work really had forced him to wake up before even the Homies had begun singing their morning song. This is why Michelle was currently making her way to his office, after stopping in the kitchen to grab some quick breakfast, munching on a biscuit covered in grape jelly as she went.

Despite the darkness of the mansion’s halls, she found her way to Cracker’s office with practiced ease. Michelle scarcely knocked before pushing on the heavy door and slipping inside; her future husband never seemed to mind her dropping in on him like this. She found Charlotte Cracker crouched over his desk with a mountain of paperwork spread out before him and a cup of lukewarm coffee clenched in his fist. His signature broad smile was currently missing and was replaced by a heavy scowl of concentration as he perused what seemed like miles of important documents.

“Good morning.” Michelle stifled a yawn as she made her way over to his desk.

Cracker glanced up at she approached him.

“Sugar Cube, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I was up with the sun,” Michelle lied, moving around the side of the desk so she could stand beside her fiancé, scarcely reaching his bicep as she stood on tip toe to glance at his mess of paperwork. “What are you working on?”

Cracker snorted. “What aren’t I working on?!” He exclaimed with a rueful smile as he turned towards Michelle, reaching out after a moment to stroke the side of her face. “Thank you for visiting me, my dear. I appreciate it.” He then used his other hand to down the rest of his coffee before standing up from his desk.

“Where are you going?” Michelle asked as he brushed past her.

“I have some business to attend to on the southern part of the island,” Cracker explained as he threw his cape over his shoulders. “I’ll be a while, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright.” Michelle forced a smile. “I’ll manage without you.”

Cracker chuckled. “I’m happy you understand, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” Michelle then moved over to where Cracker’s sword Pretzel was leaning against the wall and picked it up.

“Thank you,” Cracker took his blade from her and attached it to his hip. “I’ll try to be back by tonight.”

“Alright,” Michelle then leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Be safe. I’ll see you later.”

Cracker’s face was a little pink as he nodded, finally flashing her one of his signature cocky grins. “Of course, love. I’m always careful.” With this slightly callous response, he turned to go, but paused in the doorway. “By the way, one of my sisters is going to be stopping by today.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Which one?”

“You haven’t met her yet. Her name is Spice. She’s a Sweet Commander like me.”

“Oh!” Michelle vaguely recalled her being mentioned before. “What’s her reason for visiting?”

“She said something about taking you to a party or something.” Cracker seemed to be struggling to remember the details; he was also probably distracted by his pressing Minister duties. “I’m sure she’ll explain when she gets here. Anyways, keep an eye out for her, and I’ll be back before you can say “souffles make terrible earmuffs”.

Michelle giggled at this silly remark as her fiancé gave one last little wave before sweeping out the door, his long magenta cape billowing behind him as he went. Soon enough, he was gone, and his future wife was forced to find some means of preoccupying herself before Cracker’s aforementioned sister arrived with her mysterious objective.

~~~~~~~~

Michelle eventually found herself in the manor’s library, which was always a slightly overwhelming experience. The second she walked into the room, every book Homie on the shelf would start clamoring all at once: “Read me!” “No! Read me!” “Read me first!” She would never understand how the old sofa slept through all of it.

Merely looking for a means of entertainment for the time being, Michelle wasn’t really all that picky on what to read. Eventually, she selected a mauve cookbook entitled “1,001 Uses for Margarine” and settled back against the cushions while the furniture snored loudly.

She had just made it to use #27 when a sharp knock on the door made her jump slightly. Michelle glanced up at the door, which looked as surprised as she was.

“Um…Come in?” Michelle offered, but the door did not open. She quickly set the book aside and was just about to get up and open it herself when, out of nowhere, a face suddenly appeared in the center of the door.

“BOO!” the face exclaimed, and Michelle shrieked, throwing her arms over her head and falling off the sofa, which finally woke up with a snort.

The face giggled rather jovially: a wide mouth and big brown eyes were alight with glee beneath short shaggy orange hair. As Michelle watched, astonished, the face was soon accompanied by a neck and then shoulders and then a torso and finally a pair of legs. Next thing she knew, a whole human was floating in the middle of the library. The figure was a young girl to be precise, around Michelle’s age. She had the brightest, most orange hair Michelle had ever seen; it looked like her face was wreathed in fire. It was also full of little hairclips in the shape of candy corn which matched the earrings, rings and necklaces that dotted all around her white round face accented by rosy cheeks and splash of tanned freckles. Her puffy orange sweater dwarfed most of her form but Michelle could still make out a rather curvy figure with a full chest and short, thick legs, the latter of which were clothed in white and yellow striped socks with thick black Mary Jane shoes on her feet. The girl grinned down at the startled Michelle on the floor, hovering near the ceiling like a chandelier, with a smile almost as wide as Cracker’s

“Hiya Michelle!”

The other woman blinked at the sound of her name, the initial shock slowly starting to fade, and she managed to clamber back to her feet. “H-Hello…Are you Spice, by any chance?”

“Yep!” Spice nodded, swooping down to suddenly alight on the ground right in front of Michelle. “I’m Charlotte Spice! Minister of Carnauba, Sweet Commander and twenty-second daughter of Big Mom, Emperor of the Sea.” She suddenly reached out and clasped Michelle’s hands. “It’s so good to finally make your acquaintance, Michelle. Cracker’s told me a lot about you.”

Michelle was still reeling, but her face went a little red from that last remark. “R-Really?”

“You bet! He doesn’t shut up about you, always gushing about how sweet and lovely you are. It’s honestly going to give me diabetes.” Spice laughed at her own joke before suddenly letting go of Michelle’s hands and jumping back into the air. “Now come on! We gotta get a move on or we’re going to be late.”

“Late?” Michelle stammered before her jaw hit the floor as she watched Spice zip back over to the door and phase THROUGH THE WALL without even slowing down. “W-Wait!” she quickly raced after her, thrusting open the door to see Spice was already halfway down the hall.

“Come on, Michelle! You gotta keep up!”

“I-I can’t, really,” Michelle called back, gripping her bad hip as she spoke. “I can’t run very well.”

“Hmm? Oh fudgsicles! That’s right, your hip is bad. Hold on!” Spice flew back over and then picked Michelle up by the waist before she had a chance to argue.

“Whoa!”

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry!”

“W-Where exactly are you taking me?” Michelle asked, clinging to the other girl rather tightly as they flew through the halls.

“I’m taking you to Candy Island! Perospero’s wife is having a little get together, and you were invited!”

“Me?”

“Of course! She and her sisters wanted to meet you before the wedding. After all, you’re going to be family now, right?”

“Oh yeah. Right.” Michelle was a little flattered at the gesture.

Spice suddenly stopped midair, jolting the other woman more than a little and causing her to grab an even bigger fistful of her giant orange sweater. “By the way, do you have a winter coat?”

Michelle blinked in confusion. “I mean yes, but isn’t Candy Island a Summer Island?”

“I mean yeah but…” Spice paused. “It’s a bit hard to explain, but trust me, you’ll want one. Now where is your room?”

“It’s on the top floor by the-WAIT CAN’T WE WALK?” Michelle shrieked as Spice took off again, dragging her through the air before she’d even finished her sentence.

~~~~~~~

Now more than a little frazzled but winter coat firmly in hand, Michelle trooped along after Spice as she skipped and weaved her way through the streets of Biscuit Island, her feet seemingly not touching the ground for more than a few seconds. Michelle had insisted they walk to the harbor, and she was grateful that Spice had agreed to slow down a little and let the other girl get her bearings (and hopefully fix her awfully windblown hair that she was currently combing her fingers through). Despite her annoyance at zipping around the Biscuit Manor like an overly caffeinated hummingbird, Michelle couldn’t help but let her eyes continuously wander to Spice’s feet hovering a good few inches off the ground.

“Hey Spice, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm? Sure. What is it, Michelle?” the other woman glanced back at her, her orange hair looked even brighter in the morning sunlight.

“Your powers are from a Devil Fruit, right?’

At her question, Spice’s large enthusiastic smile quickly returned. “Yep! The Human-Human Fruit, Model: Poltergeist, to be exact.”

“Poltergeist?!” Michelle was a little shocked. She couldn’t help but remember those creepy stories her father used to tell her and her little brother while they huddled together on the bed in his cabin, trembling with frightened delight. “As in a ghost?”

“Of course! One of those creepy apparitions that makes things go bump in the night!” Spice wiggled her fingers teasingly. “I’ll show you my Devil Fruit’s full form sometime if you ever wanna see something really terrifying.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Michelle replied.

By that point, the two young women had reached the docks at the very edge of Biscuit Island.

“And here she is!” Spice announced, flying a little higher into the air as she spread her arms wide. “Isn’t she scrumptious?!”

Michelle looked on at a cute little sailboat that was resting at the end of the dock. It was painted bright orange with pitch black sails and looked almost as though it had been carved out of a squash or, dare she say, a pumpkin. This was further emphasized by the figurehead Homie which was in fact a Jack O’ Lantern that had an almost menacing grin. It cackled at seemingly everything as golden flames bloomed from its eyes and mouth.

“Oh wow!” Michelle was indeed impressed, if a little creeped out.

“She’s called the Peter Midnight, and she’s all mine!” Spice declared proudly.

Michelle was about to tell her that the ship was indeed quite cool, but words escaped her almost immediately when a second Spice suddenly appeared standing on the edge of the ship’s railing, grinning down at her.

“Welcome aboard, Michelle! We’ll be casting off soon!”

Michelle blinked in astonishment, her eyes quickly flipping between the first Spice she’d been talking to already, who was still floating in the air above the boat, and the second spice standing on the dock.

“Captain Spice!” the first Spice called to her double as she landed beside her, proving there were indeed two and they were seemingly identical. “Is the ship in tip top shape?”

“Sure thing, Commander Spice. We’re ready when you are!”

Michelle couldn’t take much more of this. “Excuse me, WHAT?!”

Both Spices looked her way and quickly broke into identical laughter. “Don’t worry, Michelle, it’s just a soul projection.” The first Spice casually explained, waving her hand through the second version of her who quickly faded in and out of focus slightly like a mirage. “It’s another side effect of my Devil Fruit. Pretty cool, huh?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Michelle grumbled from under her breath.

“Ready on your command, Captain Spice!” A third Spice called from the rigging of the sails.

“All set on our end as well, Commander Spice!” called a fourth from the helm.

“I can see gummy dolphins!” yelled a fifth from the crow’s nest. This one was holding a telescope.

The first Spice, the real one Michelle supposed, clapped her hands. “Ok everyone! Enough fooling around! Let’s get a move on!”

With that, all of the soul projection Spices got to work casting off the ship from the docks of Biscuit Port.

After another moment to get her bearings, Michelle was helped aboard by another soul projection while the figurehead continued to cackle gleefully.

“Hard to port, Helmswoman Spice! Let’s set out for Candy Island!” the first Spice called out, pointing in the direction she wanted the ship to go. At her command, the Spice at the helm turned the wheel and the ship cut a neat path through the waves and out into the open sea that surrounded the Tottoland. Archipelago.

Michelle gripped the side of the ship, feeling the familiar sensation of the ocean air washing over her entire body. She closed her eyes, soaking in the nostalgic feeling as the cool breeze whipped through her hair.

“Hey Michelle!” She opened her eyes to see the real Spice hovering towards the bow of the ship, waving to her frantically. “Watch this! It’s really going to knock your socks off.”

“Uh…Ok!” Michelle called back.

Spice grinned at her. “Hold on tight.”

The other woman didn’t need to be told twice, her grip on the edge of the ship tightening almost immediately.

Spice then floated down to land on the Jack O’ Lantern figurehead, placing her hands palms down on the top. Michelle watched, almost transfixed, as she closed her eyes in a moment of concentration. A second later, Spice’s eyes snapped open, and a shiver went down Michelle’s spine as she saw that they were nearly completely blacked out save her irises which were now a brilliant yellow. A kind of shadow seemed to pass around the Peter Midnight and all of the Spice soul projections gained the same creepy eyes as the original. A curious golden light suddenly appeared on Spice’s hands and seeped into the figurehead of her ship. It sent a ripple effect throughout the entire boat like when a person skips a stone on water. In an instant, the ship gave a great lurch and suddenly shot out of the harbor of Biscuit Island at a ridiculously dizzying speed.

Michelle let out a shout of surprise as she clung to the side of the ship which was now bouncing almost on top of the waves, cruising through the melon juice water with the ease of a warm knife through butter. Its speed was impressive to say the least, at this rate, they would reach Candy Island in less than an hour!

“You good?!” Michelle glanced up to see Spice had left the figurehead and was hovering directly above her, shouting over the sound of her boat cutting through the tumultuous sea of the New World.

“Yeah!” Michelle called back. “How did you do that?”

“This boat is powered by my soul,” Spice explained, easily sitting on the edge of the ship beside Michelle as if her boat’s sudden increase in speed hardly affected her. “That’s how it’s able to go so fast!”

“So, the ship is a Homie?!” Michelle asked.

Spice nodded. “In a way, yeah. That’s one of the reasons my mother made me a Sweet Commander. Our powers are remarkably similar to one another.”

Michelle nodded. That made sense. “What’s your bounty by the way?” she called over the wind. She knew all of the Sweet Commanders had high bounties. Cracker was rather proud of how big his was.

“I’m hovering around a billion last time I checked.” Spice replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Although I’m not sure. I know that it’s higher than Smoothie’s but not as big as Katakuri’s. It’s been a while since I’ve left Totto Land though.”

Michelle’s eyes were huge. “Your bounty is really that big?!”

Spice shrugged. “Compared to some other people’s, it’s pretty standard.”

“Yeah but-” Michelle paused, thinking of something. “Why is your bounty so high if you say you don’t leave Totto Land much?”

Spice sighed. “I used to leave more often when I was younger, go on raids and the like. My mother trained me personally; she was always impressed with my Devil Fruit powers, so I got very strong, very young.”

Michelle nodded. That would explain why she was a Sweet Commander even though she was noticeably younger than the others.

“But things are different these days. Mama’s cravings happen a lot more frequently than they used to. They’re a lot more…violent, more unpredictable. I have to stay on Whole Cake Island and manage things…as much as I can.”

As Michelle looked on, she saw something like a shadow pass over Spice’s normally bright face, like the ghost of something she’d rather not speak about. The other woman was curious about it but knew better than to ask. Regardless, as soon as those darker thoughts crossed Spice’s mind, they vanished once more, and she was back to her usual cheerful self.

“Anyways! I’m excited for you to meet everyone. Today is going to be so fun!”

Michelle agreed, nodding eagerly. “And I’m grateful to Perospero’s wife for inviting me.”

“Her name is Winter by the way,” Spice added. “And her sisters are Crystal and North.”

Michelle nodded, scrunching her nose as she tried to remember.

Spice laughed at the face she made. “Get used to it. There’s a lot of names you’ll need to keep track of in this family.”

The other woman gave her a slightly overwhelmed smile. “You’ve got that right.”

“I guess I should also mention that they’re members of the Farfallen race, by the way,” Spice added. “I don’t know if you’ve ever encountered those people before.”

Michelle arched an eyebrow. “Really? And I have before, once or twice.”

“One more thing,” Spice’s expression suddenly got serious again, which made Michelle pay attention. “When you meet Winter, just keep in mind. It’s not you. Okay?”

“Um…What exactly do you mean?”

“Just…” Spice grimaced. “It’s difficult to explain. Just keep that mind, alright? It’s not anything you did.”

“Okay…?” Michelle trailed off, her gaze wandering out to the sea that was frantically zipping by them on all sides, no longer certain if she should be worried or not.

To Be Continued...

#star writes #one piece #one piece oc #crachelle #charlotte spice

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deathfrisbeeinthetardis · 4 years

Note

“Move out of my way before I make you.” Yes please- maybe Shane threatens this to Ryan because Ry won’t let him go in a cursed cupboard or something (maybe Ryan holds him back like during the Annabelle ep) and Ry adamantly blocks him anyway and Shane inevitably ‘makes him’ move

Thank you so much for the suggestion!! This little thing was so much fun to write, I hope the dynamics are alright. Also bless the people who sent me asks for prompts, anons or otherwise, I see ya’ll, but I am sorry when I say I make no promises on delivery time. Love you all the same

Here we go!

Wood creaks. Ryan hates everything about this room.

From the distinct lack of dust on the furniture to the delicately billowy white dress that hung between the beams of the ancient four-poster bed, the covers rumpled and pushed back as if someone had just slept in them.

He especially hates that look in Shane’s eyes as his friend assesses the scene in front of them, a sly curve to his mouth.

“That’s where the daughter hung herself,” Ryan half-whispers into the silence. They’re on their own for the moment, go-pros strapped to their chests and cameras in hand. He shivers as his brain very helpfully presented him with the crime scene photo in full color, sometimes it really isn’t good for one’s health to have a good visual memory. “People say they have trouble breathing here, pricks on their wrists, that sort of thing, cause she slit hers before, well."

Shane’s eyes are bright with interest, leaning over the guard rope into the enclosure, making full use of his stature to get his nose within three feet of the dress itself. He sniffs at it and Ryan stares at him. Sometimes he wonders why his stupid heart chose to beat for this man.

"Dude get back, that thing is cursed!” Ryan grabs Shane’s arm and tugs, and the other man leans back but doesn’t budge his feet, turning to level Ryan with a long-suffering grin.

“Oh really?”

“Yes really,” Ryan huffs, letting go of Shane so he can point at said piece of clothing accusingly, “The people who’ve touched it after her death have all suffered in some way, serious injuries, depression, psychic breaks. Every, single, one.”

"Impressive,” Shane hums, tapping at his chin with a hand while he studies the layers of fabric so light any whiff of air would send them trembling. “That’s one hard-working ghost! The spiritual PAs gotta get the lady an employee of the year award."

"Yeah she’s got a pretty good track record,” A nervous laugh escapes him at the words, the air in the room weighing heavy in his lungs. Ryan had expected the stuffiness with the age of the house, but it hadn’t really hit him until the lights had gone out and the silence descended. The only sound is the gentle rustle of their clothes and small creaks in the floorboards as Ryan shifts his weight around, fiddling with the seam on his jacket sleeve.

“You think she’s gonna come out and haunt me if I touch it?” There it is again, that look in Shane’s eyes, half mischief and half insurmountable determination to keep giving Ryan heart attacks.

“I said it back at the studio and I’m still going say it now, you taunt the ghost all you want, just don’t bring me into your shit.”

“You did join me against our old pal Goatman,” Shane’s eyes twinkles and Ryan’s chest does a thing.

“Tha-that doesn’t count,” He sputters, indignant, “There wasn’t anything there that time, we got lucky.”

“Says the guy who keeps trying to prove ghosts are real,” Shane grins, “Come on Ryan, wouldn’t it be great evidence if I get murked by a ghost? Then you can go celebrate with your Boogaras.”

“Fine by me.” Ryan mutters darkly, rolling his eyes when Shane pantomimes death, with explosive hand-blood spurts and everything. By the end of it, Ryan’s pointing the camera down at where Shane has melted onto the floor, both of them giggling like preschoolers. All ghost hunters are like this, Ryan thinks, they must be. Some good serious work right here.

“Phew,” Ryan wheezes, wiping a tear from his eye and holding out a hand to help Shane up despite himself, “Okay we need to get started, we’ve gotta leave enough time to sleep here too.”

“The Shanster does need his beauty sleep,” Shane quips, chuckling when Ryan looks at him somewhere between fond exasperated, “Okay okay, you said the daughter’s name is Elizabeth?”

Ryan nods, stretching out his arm to extend their audio recorder into the enclosure. This is one of the more active locations they’ve been to, and no way is he going to give Shane the opportunity to blame the EVPs he’s going to catch on their own clothes.

“Elizabeth? Or Eliza, are you here with us?” Ryan asks, feeling the pressure in the room again, but he’s done enough of these investigations that his voice is steady, “Our colleagues have seen you before, can you move something or say something to show us too?”

“You could rustle that dress right there,” Shane says, and the seriousness in his voice brings a smile to Ryan’s face, maybe if that respect can last they’ll actually get something good.

“Were you cursed?” Shane’s sweeping his eyes over the room, and the silence stretches for a good while, then he turns to Ryan and shrugs, “Nothing, I’m getting nothing.”

“I’ll scan the audio later, in the meantime,” Ryan ducks down to dig out the spirit box from his pack, fiddling with the dials and turning it on. He winces with Shane when the thing gives a loud screech before settling into the rhythmic skipping of channels. “Whoah there, was that you Eliza?”

“We need to bring earmuffs next time,” Shane mutters just loud enough to be heard over the noise and Ryan bats at his arm, straining his ears to pick out any response. He didn’t see Shane get that look in his eyes again.

Movement, his brain registered, oh shit it’s the ghost, Ryan thinks, whipping his head around to look, and oh shit Shane’s gonna touch the dress. Instinct kicks in, and he almost drops the spirit box as he leaps over the guard rope to stand in the other man’s way.

“No,” Ryan half shouts, Shane coming to an abrupt stop in front of him, tilting his head and looking at the bundle of silk over Ryan’s shoulder, still with that sly smile on his face.

“No.” Ryan says again, firmer this time.

“It could make her show herself.” Shane looks down at him, and sure he’s got a point. But.

“It’s dangerous,” Ryan doesn’t really like the slight whine that creeps into his own voice, but fuck it, with all he jokes about killing Shane, he can’t not care. “It’s not worth it.” He says stubbornly.

“Aww, are you worried for me?"

"I have to be! You’ve got like negative self-preservation.”

“Do you want evidence or not?” Shane quirks an eyebrow at him and takes a step forward, there’s barely a foot of space between them now, Ryan swallows.

“Yes but not if it gets you killed, or-or cursed!’ He sounds breathless to his own ears.

"But it’ll be for science! Think about it Ryan, you’ll finally have concrete proof of death by a ghost, caught on camera.”

“Nope, not happening."

Ryan’s expecting Shane to drop it, to back away so they can continue on their usual routine of questions and a bit of insulting for the ghosts. But Shane leans forward, forcing Ryan to tip his head up to look at him, the other man’s face set with determination, eyes twinkling.

“Move out of my way before I make you.”

Ryan shivers, he couldn’t help it, painfully aware that the motion is made more obvious with their bodies so close together. Shane’s eyes have gone dark, or maybe that’s just the shadows playing tricks on him. For a man who’s a big goof ninety percent of the time, the big guy can sure pack some intimidation points. Pity Ryan’s gotta fight him on this.

"You’re gonna have to make me.” Ryan’s voice shakes just a little, something in his stomach fluttering and fingers flexing around the sharp lines of the spirit box. His face feels hot, but he hopes Shane won’t notice in the dim light, he really doesn’t need more things to make fun of Ryan for right now.

“You know I can just reach over your shoulder right?"

"I’ll fight you.” Ryan warns, though he doesn’t sound too threatening. He would have brought up his arms too, if only there was space for them.

“Are you now?” Shane’s smiling down at him, eyes definitely darker than usual. He crowds Ryan until the smaller man takes another step back, “Careful now, you’re awfully close to the dress yourself.”

“Well fuck, guess I’m dead then,” Ryan says weakly, feeling the phantom cold of fresh air brush against his back. He should have at least two more feet of cushion, he’d eyed the distance when he jumped in front of Shane, but how many steps has he taken already? It’s hard to keep track when he could feel Shane’s breath on his face. “Better me than you.” he manages, barely.

“How noble of you.” And then Shane’s leaning down even more, still not letting up on the space between them. Ryan’s breaths are starting to speed up, fast, shallow little things that rush in and out of his lungs without actually doing their job. He can step away, he should really, the cameras are still rolling. But Shane’s face is so close and there is a headiness to the tension between them and all the places they’re not touching.

For a second something like uncertainly flickers in Shane’s face, his eyes search Ryan’s face for… something. Ryan can hardly move, his own gaze glued to the other man. What Shane sees must confirm his beliefs, since he sinks his head down, lower. Ryan’s eyes flutter closed.

And Shane kisses Ryan’s nose.

“Wha-” Ryan makes an indignant noise and has to catch himself before he takes a step back and curses himself via ghost dress. He feels plenty cursed already, what with his heart beating thunderously in his ears and his stomach doing all sorts of acrobatics he hasn’t given it permission to.

“What was that?” He had meant it as an accusation, but a small smile escapes him as he looks back at Shane, watching in quiet wonder when the brief worry melts away from his brow.

“A truce.” Shane’s voice is quiet, a soft tilt to his mouth, and Ryan’s knees feel weak. His body parts are just all ganging up on him today huh.

‘Oh, um sure,“ Ryan stammers, breathing still unsteady, "Jus-um just don’t touch the dress, please.”

"Lets trade,” Shane’s eyes are twinkling again, mischief dancing in them, “I leave the dress alone and I get to kiss you, properly."

"That’s not how it works,” Ryan grumbles, ducking his head and flushing furiously, but he knows Shane sees anyway. Shane’s full-on grinning now, Ryan doesn’t think he has ever seen him with this much gently suppressed excitement. I gave him that, he thinks, wild.

“Okay fine. Just this once.”

“I’m good with that,” Shane sinks his voice a few octaves deeper and says with mock seriousness, “But Mr. Bergara! I do believe further such business negotiations would be beneficial to–”

“Oh stop,” Ryan chides, staring into Shane’s laughing eyes as he bunches a hand in the other man’s collar to pull him in, “Just kiss me, you idiot.”

And he does, and Ryan can’t remember a room he likes this much.

#prompt asks #anger prompts #thank you for this ask mello #Shyan #get together fic #ghost hunt #alex writes #ask

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anastasiaskarsgard · 5 years

Text

So here’s AU single dad Mark, you can see the vibe his picture inspired here (who is inspired by a real person loosely)

Warning: cursing, mention of drugs and sex. Mention of violence.

“Doctor, you have one last appointment and then you’re free! New puppy needs vaccines and looks very healthy. The guy is seriously dreamy so just mentally prepare yourself for that.” My receptionist Ashley said as she handed me the file. “They’re in number 2.”

I glanced over the file and audibly groaned, drawing both receptionists attention. “I know Mark! Shit! I hope he didn’t recognize my name and come here on purpose. To be quite honest though, I don’t think he’ll even remember me.”

Ashley leaped from her chair to get close enough to whisper, “I need the deets Doc! Did you have a one night stand with him? Or lose your v card to him at prom? Or oh my gosh! did you choose your career over him and left him behind for vet school?”

“Stop reading smut on the internet, and come back to reality. He was 2 years older than me and talked to me one time at a party, informing me that I had potential if I would dress more like a girl, and less like a veterinarian. I doubt he’ll remember it tho.” I chuckled, shaking my head, “Get back to work.” I said as I walked over to room 2, taking a deep breath before opening the door, coming face to face with Mark. He was still drop dead gorgeous.

“My bad, I thought you’d come thru the other door. Dakota, Danielle. Please sit down nice for the Doctor, so your puppy doesn’t get nervous.”

Mark tried to wrangle his two small children to sit down, but at around 2-4 years old, that wasn’t gonna happen. I wondered what girl had snatched up Mark as I checked the puppy out.

“Oh my — kids earmuffs— “ Mark verified both children were in fact covering their ears before turning back to me with a big cheesy smile on his face. “No fucking way! You seriously became a veterinarian!” He exclaimed chuckling.

“Well you gave me the idea, so I just ran with it, “ I said with a smirk.

“Oh my God. You remember I said that? I was a punk, I’m sorry. I just had a thing for you and you’d always ignore me or blow me off, every time I tried to get your attention.”

“I don’t recall you ever trying to get my attention. I do recall you ignoring me.”

“No. I didn’t even have any classes in the portables and I’d go hang out over there and always say what’s up as you’d walk by. I went to all your basketball games and you never once acknowledged my existence and I tried to talk to you in the library a couple times and you would always shoosh me.”

“ well that’s what you’re supposed to do in a library. Also, going into the general vicinity of someone, and expecting them to know somehow that you’re there for them, isn’t very obvious, especially considering the one time you speak to them you tell her that she has potential but dresses like a veterinarian, which is pretty cool if you ask me.” I giggled. Oh sweet mother of God, I giggled. He was so hot, my brain was malfunctioning. Eventhough he was most likely full of shit and trying to get a discount or something, it was wild to think, I was so intimidated by him, I refused to entertain the idea that he might actually like me. It was pretty hilarious. “Looks like you found your happily ever after anyways. Who’s the lucky lady? Anyone I know?”

“Huh?” He looked confused for a few couple beats and then it dawned on him. “Oh yeah I got two awesome mini mes.”

“We’re the 3 musketeers!” A little voice squeaked out.

“Oh sorry. I just figured 2 kids that use ear muffs and the designer dog, someone had domesticated you.” I said looking up to see Mark blush.

“Remember Anna Winters? That’s his mommy and—“

“I don’t mean to interrupt Mark, but could I borrow your little musketeers to feed some newborn puppies that were dumped here? Then we can have a few minutes to catch up. I think you’re my last appointment. Do you mind? The girls and I do it, but they look like they’re good little helpers.”

Both children leaped out of their seats and started jumping up and down pleading to let them help so Mark agreed. I called Ashley in and she was super enthusiastic about having helpers, till she realized Mark wasn’t coming too. As soon as they closed the door, I turned to Mark.

“Thought it would be best if they didn’t hear adult conversations, especially involving their mother.”

“Mothers.”

“I kinda figured since your little girl looks possibly Latina?”

Mark nodded his head. “Yeah So Anna is a full fledged crackhead out in LA or something last I heard. Who knows? She might even be dead. She left him with me when he was a week old and never came back.”

“Wow! What a deplorable human being! But then you had naked time with a lady again, and she got pregnant too huh?” I teased. “Maybe no one told you how this works...”

“No I get it. Danielle’s mom was Dakota’s babysitter, and she just never really went away and it was convenient, and she cleaned and took care of Dakota. But she stopped taking birth control unbeknownst to me, and she winds up pregnant, wanting to get married.”

“So Wait! I know this part! You being the most romantic motherfucker on the planet, was like let’s go to Disneyland and get married in the castle right before the fireworks go off!” I had to give him some shit. He was such a cliche.

Mark laughed his same dorky weird laugh, and I couldn’t help but to laugh too. “No I told her I’m not marrying you. I don’t love you, and she’s like well then as soon as I have this kid, it’s all yours. If you don’t want me, I don’t want your ugly baby.”

“I’d be like ‘it got it from its mama’. She’s adorable though, so you really came out ahead there. What are the odds you’d get two deadbeat moms in a row?”

“Don’t remind me. What’s your story? You married? Kids?”

“Well I went to school and graduated top of my class, so i got into vet school, which is way harder than regular old medical school since there aren’t as many options. Plus it’s pretty challenging. With people you just got to figure out people. I have to know the dogs, cats, horses, goats, birds, lizards pretty much anything that’s alive and not from the primate family, i gotta figure it out. Last week somebody brought in a damn baby kangaroo, trying to tell me it’s a wallaby, and I was like where did you get a Kangaroo in Salt Lake City? Sorry, to answer your actual questions, No baby daddy’s cuz I’ve never met anyone that’s as awesome as I am, so until then I’m just saving the world, one litter at a time. Let’s go peek at them, come on.” I tiptoed out the door, over to the batch of kennels I had them living in, and we peeked around the wall, to see both kids feeding two puppies each, smiling from ear to ear.

“What kind of puppies are they?” Mark whispered.

“Go back in the room and I’ll tell you the story.”

He looked so adorable tiptoeing along, trying to be sneaky. He was like that one part of Fantasia where everybody knows but him that he’s too big to be sneaky.

We get back in the room and he sits on the little bench, patting the seat next to him, looking up at me all sexy like. He knows what he’s doing. “Come sit. I won’t bite.” He said with a lustful tone. Or maybe I just wanted to jump on him and any tone would be lustful......

“You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna squirt you with the spray bottle,” I couldn’t help but laugh at my own joke. He found it less funny. “They’re all Blood Hounds. The mother got shot by the owners worthless boyfriend, claiming she attacked him, when I have a strong suspicion she was defending the woman from him. The mama dog did get ahold of the guy and shredded his arm up bad enough, it’ll never work again. The woman dropped the puppies off saying he’d kill them when he got home, so that’s how I got nine Bloodhound puppies that have to be fed every few hours. I didn’t have the heart to put them down, and the shelter would of killed them.”

“Aren’t Bloodhounds expensive?”

“Well yes. And they’re actually AKC, but I’m going to fix them all before I adopt them out. I rescue, I don’t profit off animal sales. Just maintenance. I actually offered them to the police since they’ve got the best noses in the business. They’re trying to get the money together to train them. Las Vegas wants two of them, but they got that casino money.”

“How much does it cost to train a dog?”

“Like $22k I think it is. Takes a few years depending if they’re looking for people, drugs, bombs... ”

“Wow. How are you not taken?” He blurted out.

“My bullshit tolerancy is almost non-existent, I work a lot, I’m the only one that thinks I’m funny, i dress like a veterinarian and I’m shallow. How are you single? All that man pretty and diaper changing skills.”

Mark looked down and blushed again. “Ok I’m just gonna go for it. Would you like to go to dinner sometime?” I swear he is holding his breath. Dammit. So cute.

“How about now? When they’re done feeding the puppies, you wanna go feed your rugrats?” I inquired.

“I meant like on a date, just you and me.”

He was so pretty, I wanted to sit on his face, “Oh ho! I cant be alone with you, I’ll get pregnant. Even now, I’m at risk. I need tiny chaperones.”

“Is that so?” He said rising to his feet with a mischevious look on his face, glancing between my eyes and lips. I took a step back and the wall was there. I was trapped. I tried to look oblivious but when he leaned against the wall behind me, with an arm on each side of my head, leaning in so his lips lightly brush my ear, he whispers; “where’s your spray bottle now?”

Oh fuck it. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. His lips were so soft and he was surprisingly gentle and not trying to be handsy. What the fuck was I doing!? I pulled away scanning his face for I don’t know what.

“What?” He asked all breathy and desperate, rubbing his perfect little nose on my cheek, getting almost close enough to kiss me, wanting me to close the gap.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’ll know when I see it.”

“Shut up and kiss me....please?”

Fuck. Anyone else I would have sent packing, but Mark was so tall, and beautiful, and confident, and took care of his kids, and God he smelled good, and if he fucked as well as he kissed, then I might just keep him. I pushed my lips into his and he kissed me a bit more aggressive biting my lower lip.

This was either a really great idea, or the worst idea I’ve ever had, but either way, I was gonna see how it played out.

#bill skarsgard #billy skarsgard #mark bill skarsgard #single dad mark #mark au #my writing

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sceptilemasterr · 5 years

Text

Catalysts Play Open Heart: Chapter 5

Summary: The other Catalysts finally find Raj and Furball, Craig knows some acronyms that Michelle doesn’t, and an impromptu tipsy dance-off happens, among other things!

Previous Chapter: Link

Note: The things in bold are scenes from the actual Choices chapter. Ian (x Estela) and Alyssa (x Jake) are my twin Endless Summer MCs.

Note 2 The Squeakquel: Sorry for the ludicrously long delay on this one! Blame a combination of exams and writer’s block. I’ll try to keep the delays shorter next time, promise!

Warnings: Marijuana references, alcohol use, swearing.

“The roof door’s stuck!” shouted Craig.

Zahra shot him an annoyed glare before removing her earmuffs. “Can you, like, talk normally?” she asked him. “Alright, say it again. Quieter this time.”

“THE ROOF DOOR’S STUCK!” shouted Craig. Louder this time.

“Goddamn motherf… Alright, never mind. What do you mean, ‘it’s stuck?’”

“I mean ‘it’s stuck!’” said Craig. “It won’t open!”

“I know what ‘stuck’ means, dumbass! Ugh…” Zahra pushed past him and tried the door to the roof.

It didn’t budge, even when she used both hands. “...Told ya,” said Craig with a smirk. “Think it might open if I tackled it really, really hard?”

“...The door opens this way.”

“So?” Craig took a few steps back, preparing for a running charge into the offending door. “Watch this!”

“No, Craig! Wait!” shouted Zahra, stepping in front of him. Craig’s face fell. “Why don’t we get the others?”

“Great idea! So they can watch my epic charge, right?”

“Uh… sure. Something like that.”

Several minutes later, Zahra and Craig had managed to round up most of the rest of the group and get them to the top of the stairwell. “Alright, guys, are you all watching? This is gonna be EPIC!” bellowed Craig. “CHYEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-”

“That is not going to work,” huffed Aleister.

Craig skidded to a stop. “Aww, man, first Z and now you?! Nobody wants me to have any fun.”

“It isn’t a question of fun! Simply a logical application of physics-”

“Alright, alright, everybody calm down!” shouted Michelle. “So, we think Raj is on the roof, and the door won’t open. Right?”

“...Sounds about right, yeah. What do we do about it?” asked Jake.

“We’re gonna need something long and sturdy to use as leverage.” Michelle looked over at Estela pointedly. “We’ll pry the door open that way!”

“What do you want me to do?” Estela asked, confused.

“You brought a spear, right?”

“What? You assume I just randomly brought a spear with me. Really.” Michelle started to stammer an apology until Estela broke into a grin, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “It’s in our room,” she admitted. “Be right back.”

Much later, Estela had returned, spear in hand. “Alright, everyone, stand back.” She approached the door and jammed the point of her spear into the crack between the door and the frame, right near the lock, then pulled with all her might. The door jiggled a bit, but nothing else happened. Frowning, she doubled her efforts, straining against the door.

“Uh… Ripley, y’need some help there?” asked Jake.

Estela glared at him, and he flinched back. “I… can… do… this…” she grunted.

“Okay, okay, just askin’!”

But as Estela turned her attention back to the door, there was a sudden shattering sound from the other side, and a second later, the door swung open! Estela barely dodged out of the way in time. “What the--Varyyn?!” she exclaimed when she spotted the elyyshar, knife in hand, standing on the other side.

“That was awesome! Wait, how’d you get up there?” asked Diego. “And why are you covered in… is that ice?”

Varyyn looked down at his arms and chest, which were indeed covered in rapidly-melting flecks of ice. “Ah. Yes. It appears the door could not be opened because the lock was covered in ice… as is everything else here,” he explained, stepping back from the doorway to give everyone a look.

“...The HELL?!” exclaimed Jake.

“Ditto,” agreed Sean. Everyone else simply stared, stunned and utterly at a loss for words, at the sight. The entire roof was exactly as Varyyn had described: entirely covered in ice, save for a tiny patch surrounding the lawn chair on which Raj was snoozing peacefully, Furball curled up on his belly.

At the sound of everyone’s voices, the ice fox perked up. “Mrrrrrm?” he asked.

“Uh… either I’m way drunker than I thought, or Foxface over there looks… purple,” said Jake.

As one, the entire group turned to glare at the twins. “What?” asked Alyssa innocently.

“I told you all! But did anyone listen to me? Oh no, not at all,” said Aleister, crossing his arms. “You just HAD to alter time and space irresponsibly, didn’t you?”

Ian shrugged. “Hey! Don’t look at me, Aleister, I was on your side!”

“To be fair, if the only thing that changed was Furball turning purple, that’s not such a problem,” said Grace.

“Hey… hey, I just realized something!” said Craig. “All this ice… you think maybe Furball did this?”

“...You don’t say,” deadpanned Zahra.

“First the projector, now this? Bad Furball!” pouted Quinn, crossing over to Furball. She stepped carefully, trying not to slip on the ice, which made a strange contrast with the still-warm La Huerta air. Michelle followed her a short ways before noticing something on the ground, beneath an ice sheet.

“What’s this?” Michelle asked nobody in particular. She knelt down to look closer, but overbalanced and slipped! Quinn instinctively reached back and caught her, only to end up getting pulled to the ground alongside Michelle. The two girls looked at each other before both bursting into giggles. “Oh my god, sorry, Quinn!”

“I just meant to help you up! I’m sorry!” replied Quinn, red as a beet.

“Still… points for effort.”

“Epic fail,” snarked Alyssa, stepping past both of them and scooping up Furball from his makeshift ‘bed’ on Raj’s belly. Raj, incredibly, remained asleep. “Holy shit. He sleeps deeper than you, Ian!”

“Shut up, ‘Lyss...”

As Quinn slowly got to her feet, Michelle brushed some frost off of the ice, peering closer at the object inside. “Hey, Estela, pass me that spear?”

Estela shrugged before tossing her spear to Michelle. “Don’t you dare break it.”

Michelle caught the spear and started using it to chip some of the ice away. “How the hell does this stuff not melt?” she wondered aloud while she worked. “I know Furball’s magic, but still…”

“Indeed, ‘magic’ still should not entirely defy all scientific principles altogether,” agreed Aleister, “and yet here we are.”

“That’s literally what magic is,” Jake pointed out. “Though, gotta say, Blue Fox Group’s not usually this… random. Wonder what’s gotten into him?”

“Catnip, apparently,” answered Michelle, setting Estela’s spear aside and pulling the empty catnip bottle out of the ice. “Looks like the whole thing’s empty.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” said Sean.

Raj suddenly groaned in his sleep and rolled over… right off of the lawn chair, falling to the icy floor with a crash! “What the… huh?” he asked groggily, as he opened his eyes and looked around. “Aw, man, is this another dream? Can I go back to the one with the rainbow Mudkips and the flying bikes?”

“Raj! Finally!” exclaimed Michelle, standing up slowly while using the spear as leverage. “Mind explaining where you’ve been, and what the hell happened up here? Varyyn had to… hang on, how did you get up here anyway, Varyyn?”

“I scaled the outside wall,” said Varyyn, as though this were obvious.

“Have I mentioned my husband is freaking awesome? Because he is!” said Diego, a huge grin on his face.

Raj rubbed his forehead as he pulled himself back up onto the lawn chair. “Sorry, guys, guess I just... whoa, why’s everything covered in ice?”

“You tell me, Pineapple Express,” Jake said. “Somethin’ tells me you gave Furball some catnip and things went south from there.”

“Catnip…” said Raj, frowning. “Oh yeah! Little guy wanted some of that stuff I lured him down with earlier, and I didn’t think it was fair to tease the little guy, ya know? Then… guess I fell asleep.”

“You were high again, weren’t you?” asked Michelle. “The door was literally frozen shut.”

Raj shrugged. “Maybe. Dunno…” He frowned again. “It’s kind of a blur.”

“That would be a ‘yes,’” Zahra said. “Next time, let us in on the action!”

“Aw, sorry dudes! For sure!”

“Not to break up this… whatever this is, but I’m gonna get Furball downstairs so we can let this ice start melting,” said Alyssa, heading back down the stairwell, purple fox in her arms. “Raj, want to continue the Choices story with us? You missed two whole chapters!”

“I did?! Whoa, I must’ve been out for a while,” Raj said.

“No worries! I’ll catch you up on what you missed,” said Diego, falling into step beside his friend as they all headed back down the stairs. “So, in a nutshell: Zahra knows an impressive amount of swear words, Craig actually got an acronym right, I’m pretty sure Batman is in the story now, we bought a nice apartment by bribing the landlord with cookies, Craig’s now obsessed with tacos, there was a whole conversation about asses, and we’re gonna be starting an intense reality show hospital competition, I think. ...Oh, and the twins sent Quinn’s phone into the future. That happened.”

Raj stared at him, open-mouthed, as he processed all of this. “Either this is a really weird trip, or… actually, y’know what? It’s La Huerta. I’ll just roll with it.”

Diego laughed. “‘Just roll with it’ is pretty much my catchphrase these days.”

“Hey, it’s a good one. I might have to borrow that!”

At long last, with no more ice-related shenanigans to be found, the entire group (including Raj) had once again taken their usual spots around the projector in the lobby, ready to finally start the next chapter of Open Heart. Jake passed out drinks to everyone who was drinking, then settled into his usual chair. Alyssa also settled into her usual chair (also known as Jake’s lap), and Michelle and Quinn stood near the projector, waiting for Choices to load. “Brrrm,” said Furball.

“Y’know, I kinda dig this new look,” Raj said, watching the purple fox wander around the room, sniffing at everyone.

“It’s certainly… different,” said Estela. “Huh.”

“Hey, Ian!” Alyssa shouted. “Think Furball would change different colors if we did that again?”

“I don’t know, and we are not trying it.”

“Aww, come on-”

“Got it!” announced Quinn excitedly as she brought up the intro screen for Open Heart. “Everyone ready? Drinks set?” The group nodded as she passed the phone to Michelle. “Alright, Michelle, let’s go!”

Michelle smiled at Quinn, then began the chapter.

Open Heart: Chapter 5

Relief

“Well, that’s a relief,” said Ian. Then everyone laughed, and his eyes went wide when he realized what he’d said. “Ah! No! Er… pun not intended?”

“Even the music is relieving!” Quinn commented, swaying in time to the smooth beat of the intro music. “A nice change from last chapter.”

“Guess we’ve got a ‘breather episode’ then! Uh, ‘breather chapter?’” suggested Diego. “Is that a thing?”

Raj shrugged. “It is now!”

Landry: I keep waiting for myself to wake up and realize this was a dream.

“Me too, Landry, me too,” said Raj, nodding sagely. “I’m still half-convinced I’m just in a really deep sleep on that plane to La Huerta.”

“Honestly? That would explain a lot,” Sean agreed.

“Wait, so, like, are we all having the same exact dream? That’s awesome!” said Craig.

Jackie: I don’t get it. Why are you buying us a round?

MC!Michelle: Because…

Michelle laughed out loud at the choices, especially the ‘Can you even afford this?’ option. “Oh my god, that last one… that sounds about right, actually,” she said. “It’s got my vote for sure.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s pretty good,” Jake agreed. “Same here. I vote that one.”

“How much do residents get paid, anyway?” asked Alyssa. “I thought doctors were rich!” Michelle just stared at her incredulously, shaking her head. Alyssa shrugged. “...That answers my question, I guess.”

“Shall we vote, then?” asked Aleister, standing up to take the vote. Michelle’s suggestion of ‘Can you even afford this?’ won, almost unanimously (Zahra voted for ‘He’s sucking up’ instead).

MC!Michelle: We’re up to our eyes in debt.

Bryce: Exactly. So a little more debt can’t hurt.

Elijah: Dude, that’s not how finance works!

“The lack of logic there is utterly astounding,” said Aleister.

“I mean, it’s like the money version of living in the moment, I guess?” suggested Quinn.

“Still, I like Elijah’s answer the best,” Michelle said. “My debt’s bad enough as it is, and I still have two more years to go!”

“Hey, question: what if you had your student loans, and you took out more loans to pay for the first ones?” asked Craig. “Could you have infinite money?”

Michelle and Aleister stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. “I… I… just…” said Aleister, opening and closing his mouth a few more times before finally shaking his head in defeat.

There was an awkward silence. “...Okay, moving on,” said Michelle eventually, clicking forward in the chapter.

MC!Michelle: I think…

“As if I didn’t already hate Aurora enough after that crap she pulled last chapter,” muttered Jake.

“Seriously,” agreed Estela. “That was awful.”

“Wait, what?” asked Raj, confused. “What happened? Come on, Diego, you didn’t mention Aurora doing anything!”

Diego blushed. “Whoops! Sorry! Though, technically, she didn’t do anything. The thing she did was not doing anything. Does that make sense?”

“Dude, I’m really tryin’, but you lost me there,” admitted Raj.

“The patient who died? Dolores? Aurora turned down a chance to help her because the case ‘wasn’t interesting,’” Zahra explained. “Even I’m not that heartless.”

“Holy shit, you’re serious? That’s messed up.”

“No kidding. And, uh, thanks, Zahra,” said Diego. “That made a lot more sense than my version.”

“Okay, can I take the vote this time?” asked Grace. Aleister nodded at her, and she stood up. “I really think we should be careful around Aurora, who agrees with me?” Ian, Aleister, Varyyn, Raj, Sean, and Michelle all raised their hands to agree with Grace. “Okay, who votes for ‘You’ll kick her ass?’” Estela, Jake, Alyssa, Zahra, and Craig all raised their hands. “Last choice: ‘She’s not as bad as people say?’” Only Quinn and Diego raised their hands. “Yay, my choice won!” said Grace excitedly, as Michelle picked the option in question.

Landry: Dr. Ramsey would never cave in to nepotism!

“I can believe that,” said Michelle. “As harsh as he can be sometimes, I think he genuinely does care about training the best doctors to do the best job for their patients.”

“Uh, sorry,” said Craig, raising his hand for some reason, “but what’s ‘knee-pot-ism?’ Is that like a kind of pot you can smoke with your knee?”

“How the hell would that even work?” asked Zahra. “Also, no.”

“Dude, I like the way you think,” said Raj, “but it’s like picking people based on their family, instead of how good they are at stuff.”

“Oh. Damn, that’s bullshit,” said Craig. “But thanks, dude!”

“Anytime!” The two of them did a complicated multi-part handshake involving elbows, spinning in circles, and cow noises.

Elijah: ‘You?’ Hang on, Michelle, are you not going to compete for the fellowship?

“What? Why not? I’m definitely going to!” Michelle yelled at the screen.

“I’m sure you… uh, your character you… are gonna compete eventually,” Diego pointed out. “It wouldn’t make much sense to put it in the story if your character won’t get involved.”

“I guess that’s true… but still, character me, come on!”

“How are we supposed to start a hospital reality show if we won’t be in the competition?!” complained Alyssa.

“Come on, ‘Lyss, did you hear anything I just said?” asked Diego, sighing.

“...I heard you, Diego,” Varyyn reassured him.

“Thanks, Varyyn.”

Jackie: Michelle, you told us working with Ramsey was the whole reason you came to Edenbrook.

MC!Michelle: Yeah, well…

“Exactly! See? We definitely need to go for it!” exclaimed Quinn. Then she frowned as she read the choices. “Wait, why isn’t that an option?”

“I suppose ‘I didn’t mean right away’ would be the closest choice?” suggested Grace.

“Alright,” said Raj, “let’s just vote then?”

To nobody’s surprise, Grace’s suggestion won easily, and the story continued.

MC!Michelle: Why do you care, Jackie? If I don’t compete that’s one less person for you to have to beat!

“Hey, that rhymed!” Diego pointed out excitedly.

“Aw, yeah, you’re right!” said Craig. “We should make a rap song out of this!”

“Hell yeah!” agreed Raj, who started beatboxing as Craig stood up and rapped over the beat. “If I don’t, if I don’t compete! That’s one less person for you to hafta beat! Aw! Yeah!”

Zahra groaned and massaged her forehead with her hands in exasperation. “I think my ears are gonna start bleeding,” she complained.

Michelle nodded, then clapped her hands loudly. “As, uh… interesting as that was, we need to keep going,” she announced.

Craig and Raj sat back down. “Okay, but if there’s any more rhymes, we’re doin’ a Round 2!” Craig said.

“Please don’t,” said Zahra.

Dr. Ines: Interns! Hello!

“Hey, it’s the ‘girl from the thing!”’ said Jake when Dr. Ines appeared. “Also known as Dr. Cheery.”

“Honestly, are you ever going to call anyone by their actual names?” asked Aleister.

“Come on, Malfoy, where’s the fun in that?” asked Jake, smirking

“It’s weird seeing her outside the hospital,” Quinn observed, “but she’s still as happy as ever! I like her!”

Dr. Zaid: And I just want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, whichever one of you wins… you won’t deserve it.

“And he’s still as grumpy as ever,” said Sean. “Even at the bar! Wonder what his problem is.”

“Or, as Jake would say, ‘wonder what’s up his butt?’” added Alyssa. At this, everyone laughed, including Jake.

You stretch and roll over in your bed, then glance at the clock on your nightstand.

“PLOT TWIST: IT REALLY WAS ALL A DREAM!” Diego blurted out.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, actually,” said Ian.

“...For real, though, that was a weird transition,” said Raj. “I almost thought the chapter ended for a sec there.”

“Talk about the shortest chapter ever, if that happened,” said Jake. “Alright, let’s keep going. We haven’t even gotten to drink yet!”

“...That’s right,” said Zahra suddenly, “did anybody tell Raj about the rule we added?”

“You dudes added a new rule? Nice!” Raj said. “Tell me!”

“Whenever the story copies Meech’s actual reaction!” added Craig. “Which happens way more than you’d expect.”

Raj laughed. “Ha! Yeah, I can see that. Love it! Alright, Michelle, let’s keep going!”

You throw off the blankets and pull on your clothes frantically, hopping on one foot! You teeter over and fall hard on the floor!

Everyone laughed out loud at this. “That sounds amazing, wow,” said Zahra through her laughter. “And pretty sure Craig’s actually done that before.”

“What? Naw, I never… okay, it was one time,” he admitted. Everyone laughed again.

“My brother really has done that before, way too many times,” Alyssa informed the group. “Right, Ian?”

“Oh?” asked Estela curiously.

“What? He never told you about those times he fell flat on his face getting ready for school?” Alyssa asked her. “Or all the times he almost fell down the stairs because he had his head in a book instead of watching where he was going? Or the time when he-”

“ALRIGHT, MICHELLE, LET’S KEEP GOING!” shouted Ian frantically before his sister could reveal any more embarrassing stories.

Michelle picked up the phone again and continued. “You’re welcome,” she said in response to Ian’s grateful smile.

Sienna: Why are you in such a rush, silly? It’s our day off, remember?

“Doctors get days off?” asked Craig.

“Yes, believe it or not,” said Michelle. “We aren’t robots.”

He frowned, thinking. “Wait, but… what happens if someone gets sick, and it’s a weekend?”

“Obviously every doctor in the world doesn’t take the same day off,” Aleister said.

“He’s right,” Michelle told Craig. “Sometimes we might have a weekday off, and work the weekend, or something. We don’t get every weekend off.”

“Wait, so… your day off might be a Monday or something? That sucks! I hate Mondays.”

“Craig, you hate Mondays because you have work,” Zahra reminded him. “If you were off, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Oh yeah…”

MC!Michelle: I’ve always wanted to be on the jumbotron!

Sienna: Then you’d better look the part!

“Another outfit?” asked Jake. “Hang on, does this mean if we don’t buy it, you’ll be in your underwear?”

Michelle laughed and shook her head. “I sure hope not,” she said. “Though after the first chapter with the scrubs, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“This one counts as a drink, right?” asked Zahra. “Since we’re in our apartment still, so this must’ve come from our own closet?”

Everyone stopped to ponder this. Eventually, they all looked to Raj, who simply shrugged. “Sure, makes enough sense for me!” he said. “Jake, you gonna do the honors?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jake said, before raising his glass of whiskey in the air and shouting, “Drink, y’all!”

As everyone sipped their drink of choice, Michelle crossed her arms and stared out at the group for several minutes. Finally, Sean noticed. “Michelle? What’s up?” he asked.

“If we’re all done figuring out this drinking game thing… is anyone going to actually talk about the choice?!”

Everyone looked at each other sheepishly as they realized they had, indeed, all forgotten to actually vote on a choice. This time, it was Quinn who stood up to take the vote. “Michelle, are we still doing one paid choice per chapter?” Michelle nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna turn it down then. I’m hoping for a flirty scene later! Who else?” Michelle agreed with Quinn to turn down the outfit, as did the twins, Estela, Diego, Varyyn, and Zahra.

“Moment of truth: will she stay in her underwear?” asked Raj as Michelle declined the outfit.

MC!Michelle: I’ll stick with my usual, I think.

“Aww,” said Raj. “That would’ve been funny. And probably worth another drink.”

Sienna: Let’s hit the concessions stand before the first pitch! Michelle, what do you want to eat?

MC!Michelle: Hmm…

What to eat?

“NACHOS!” yelled Craig when the choices appeared. “I mean, it’s not tacos, but close enough!”

“But a salad would be healthier,” Grace said hesitantly.

“C’mon Velma, It’s a phone game, not real life,” Jake reminded her.

“Well… I know that, but…”

“Excuse me, but what is that choice there?” asked Varyyn, pointing to the corn dog. “I am unfamiliar with it.”

“Wha… Varyyn, you’ve never had a corn dog?” asked Sean.

Varyyn frowned. “‘Corn dog?’ A dog wrapped in corn? Is that correct?”

Diego laughed and shook his head. “Okay, remember when we ate hot dogs? And we had that whole conversation about why they call them that?”

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” said Varyyn, understanding dawning on him.

“So, should we vote?” asked Aleister.

“NA-CHOS! NA-CHOS! NA-CHOS!” chanted Craig.

“Can we just pick the nachos and move on, for the sake of my eardrums?” asked Zahra. “Can’t believe I left my damn earmuffs upstairs.”

“You know what? Since Craig feels so passionately about this choice… sure,” said Michelle, picking the nachos as Craig cheered.

Sienna: Do you want anything to drink?

What to drink?

“Anyone who picks the lemonade is officially boring,” announced Zahra. “And my vote goes to the margarita, by the way.”

“But Zahra, there’s a beer helmet! A beer helmet!” Raj pointed out. “How could you not want that one?”

“Can’t go wrong with a good margarita,” said Jake, “even if it’s in a weird cup thing.”

“BEER. HELMET.” said Craig.

“But I like margaritas!” protested Quinn.

“Shall we vote on this one, at least?!” Aleister demanded through his megaphone, catching everyone by surprise. “Oh, don’t look so shocked, naturally I still have the megaphone! At any rate, who votes to behave sensibly and select lemonade?”

Only Aleister and Grace raised their hands. “Oh, sure, says the guy with the bourbon in his hand,” snarked Zahra.

“This is a high-class drink, vastly different from the sort of low-brow…”

“Alright, who wants the margarita?” asked Zahra loudly, cutting Aleister off. Quinn, Jake, Alyssa, Diego, and Michelle all voiced their agreement.

“BEER HELMET?” asked Craig, even louder than Zahra. Raj, Estela, Ian, Varyyn, and Sean all voted along with him.

“...You’re kidding. A tie?” said Sean upon counting everyone’s votes.

“Guess Al and Grace need to change their votes,” said Raj, “‘cuz we need a tiebreaker!”

Aleister and Grace exchanged a glance, then sighed. “Okay,” said Grace. “I guess… I pick the margarita, then?” while at the same time, Aleister said, “If I must choose… in that case, the beer helmet.”

“Seriously? This is the choice that we can’t break the tie?” asked Alyssa. “What the hell do we do now?”

Zahra smirked. “The obvious answer is to let Michelle decide, since it’s her character. Right?”

“Makes sense,” admitted Craig. “Alright, Meech!” Then he frowned as he remembered which one Michelle had voted for. “Wait, Z, no fair-”

“Too late!” crowed Zahra triumphantly as Michelle selected the margarita.

“No worries, Craig,” said Raj, “at least you won the nacho choice!”

“Oh yeah!” Craig instantly brightened up. “That’s right, we’re tied!”

Elijah: Just don’t go running onto the field.

Jackie: Or, you know… do. Just let me know first so I can get my camera ready.

“Yep. She’s definitely me,” said Zahra, laughing.

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve actually said that to Craig before?” asked Sean.

“Oh, she definitely has,” Craig told him. “Pretty much every time we go to a party.”

“He’s not wrong,” agreed Zahra.

Elijah: We gotta be loud for Cuaron’s at-bat. He’s batting .316 this year.

MC!Michelle: …

“Alright, I’m lost. I know pretty much nothing about baseball,” admitted Michelle, reading the choices.

“AWW YES!” shouted Craig, pumping a fist in the air. “Time for the Craig Train to shine!”

“...Trains can shine?” asked Grace. “I think you might be mixing up your metaphors…”

“Whatever, I’ve got this. The dude’s awesome, if you’re better than .3 then you’re a great hitter. ‘WAR’ stands for…”

Sean held up a hand. “Hang on a sec, Craig, I just got an idea,” he said. “Michelle? Wanna take your best guess?”

“What?” asked Michelle. “I already told you, I know nothing about baseball!”

“Well, yeah, but Craig didn’t know anything about medicine either, and he still kept guessing. I figure it’s only fair, right?”

Michelle sighed. “When you put it that way… alright, here I go. ‘WAR’ stands for… uh… ‘Warm… Active… Runner?’”

“Nah, Meech, but nice try!” said Craig, grinning from ear to ear. “Wins Above Replacement! It’s like, how good is he compared to a random benched player? So a high number is really good!”

“Okay, and ‘OBP’ means… ‘Obstructive… Batter… Pitching?’”

“Wait, how could a batter be pitching at the same time?” asked Craig.

“I already told you! I don’t know anything about baseball!”

“Oh yeah. Anyway, it means ‘On-Base Percentage,’ and it’s how often he makes it to base. So basically, the guy’s REALLY good.”

“Huh,” said Michelle, smiling at Craig. “Guess you taught me something new.”

“Since when were you so good at math?” asked Zahra, genuinely curious.

“Hey, it’s sports! It doesn’t count as math,” Craig explained.

Zahra shook her head in amazement. “The more you know,” she said.

“Oh yeah, and thanks, bro!” Craig said to Sean.

“See? I told you you’d rock at the sports stuff,” Sean said, fist-bumping Craig.

Michelle nodded. “We’ve all got things we’re good at, and things we’re… not good at. I’m gonna go ahead and pick the most accurate option for me,” she said, picking the ‘He’s what?’ option. Everyone, including Michelle, laughed.

Elijah: That’s where you’re wrong, Lando.

“Yes! Elijah’s officially my favorite, now. Star Wars references for the win!” said Diego.

“It’s a better nickname than ‘Laundry,’ that’s for sure,” agreed Quinn.

On screen, kids and adults break out their silliest moves.

“The Craig Train flies again!” exclaimed Craig, getting up to do his silly dance from the earlier chapter.

“Now it flies? This ‘train’ makes zero sense whatsoever,” muttered Aleister.

“Craig, how the hell are you not embarrassed right now?” asked Zahra.

“It’s fun! Join me!”

Jackie: God. How are they not embarrassed to be seen up there?

“Alright, that’s pretty funny,” Zahra admitted.

“Should we add a rule that Jackie acting like Zahra counts as a drink?” suggested Raj. “Y’know, like the one about Michelle acting like her character?”

“I’m down with that!” said Craig.

“Hell yes,” agreed Jake. “Drink, y’all!”

MC!Michelle: (What move should I do?)

“Dab?! That’s hilarious, do it!” exclaimed Craig, upon seeing the options.

“These all sound great,” said Quinn, giggling. “I vote the sprinkler!”

“Me too!” agreed Diego.

“A pity that none of the available options are ‘Sit up straight in an orderly manner,’” complained Aleister.

“Aw, loosen up, Slytherin.”

“I’ve got an idea!” said Raj excitedly, standing up. “Instead of voting normally… let’s actually do whatever dance we’re voting for!”

Craig immediately started dabbing, until Zahra grabbed him by the arm and yanked him down into his chair. “No. Just… no.”

“I’m down,” agreed Alyssa, standing up and doing the sprinkler, only to accidentally whack Jake in the face as she did so! “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Princess, you gotta watch where you’re dancin’,” Jake admonished, before he stood up to demonstrate a moonwalk, only to stumble and fall awkwardly back into his chair. “Whoa… I must’ve had more to drink than I thought.”

“Pfft. Lightweight,” said Estela, but as she stood up to do her own dance of choice, she too stumbled a bit. Despite her sobriety. “On second thought… maybe this wasn’t the best idea.” She flopped down onto the couch, right over Ian’s lap.

“Whoa, I missed a lot of drinks, didn’t I?” asked Raj. “New rule: whoever does their dance the best, without falling over, wins the vote.”

Quinn stepped into the center of the group and started doing the Sprinkler. A few moments later, she had to stop due to giggling uncontrollably, and she stumbled back over to Michelle, draping an arm over her shoulder. Next, Sean attempted a moonwalk, but despite being as sober as Estela, he wasn’t very good at it. “Points for not falling over,” Raj told him. “Also, this background music is kinda hard to dance to.”

“Thanks, Raj,” said Sean. “Who’s next?”

“Ian, you gonna try it?” asked Alyssa.

“Thanks, but nah,” he said. “Besides, I’m… uh… trapped.” He indicated Estela, sprawled out on the couch, right over his legs.

“What the heck, I’ll do it!” said Diego, leaping to his feet. “Varyyn, check this out!” He demonstrated the Sprinkler as best he could, though after a few seconds it started to somehow turn into a strange spinning-twist kind of move, until he got dizzy and fell on his butt onto the carpet.

“...Was that part of the dance?” asked Varyyn, genuinely wondering.

Raj shook his head, laughing. “Uh… I don’t think so, unless he just invented a new dance,” he said as Diego pushed himself to his feet and sat back on the couch next to Varyyn. “So far, just Quinn and Sean managed to stay upright, so…”

“Aw, yes! Dance-off?” asked Craig excitedly.

“Dance-off!” agreed Raj. “Quinn, Sean, let’s do this!”

Sean shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine,” he said. “I forfeit.”

“What? Bro, you can’t do that!” complained Craig.

Sean smiled apologetically. “Sorry, man. Quinn, looks like you win this round!”

Quinn’s face lit up at this statement. “Yay! I won!” she exclaimed, hugging Michelle before reaching over to select the ‘Sprinkler’ option on the screen.

“You sure did,” said Michelle, laughing as the story continued.

Elijah: Come on, Jackie! Even Landry’s dancing!

Jackie: Literally never.

“Seein’ as Zahra didn��t join the dance-off…” Craig began.

“Love the way you think, Craigslist. Drink, y’all!”

“Aww, I was hoping we’d get to see, uh, I mean read Landry’s dance,” Alyssa complained. “That would’ve been funny.”

Elijah: Here we go! A good old-fashioned brawl!

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“Wow,” said Michelle. “I thought hockey was the one with the fighting?”

“I mean, technically?” agreed Sean. “But depending on what the players are like, this kind of thing can happen in any sport, I’m pretty sure.”

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” chanted Zahra and Craig together.

“That’s not in the rules, though, is it?” asked Grace.

“It does seem highly unprofessional,” Aleister agreed.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Jake laughed. “Looks like we know what those two are votin’ for,” he observed. “Speakin’ of which, mind if I call the vote this time?”

“Go ahead,” Diego said. “I vote ‘stay quiet,’ by the way.”

“Gotcha. Who else?” Varyyn, Ian, Michelle, Grace, Aleister, Quinn, and Sean all agreed. “Looks like ‘stay quiet’ wins, but just to be sure…?” Jake himself raised his hand, along with Alyssa, Estela, Craig, Zahra, and Raj.

“Thanks, Jake,” said Michelle as she selected ‘Stay quiet.’

Later, you’re getting in line for more concessions when you see a familiar figure standing at the bar…

Dr. Ramsey: …

“What the… Dr. Ramsey?!” exclaimed Michelle when Dr. Ramsey appeared.

“Yeah, talk about coincidence,” said Sean.

“The laws of plot DEMAND it!” Diego declared.

“Ha! You’re not wrong…”

MC!Michelle: Dr. Ramsey?

“Drink, y’all,” Jake said instantly the second the line appeared on screen.

“This game predicts me way too much,” Michelle laughed.

Dr. Ramsey: I was invited here by the executives of Banner Health.

“Wonder if they specialize in gamma radiation,” said Diego.

Most of the group laughed. Michelle frowned in confusion. “Why would a health insurance company use gamma radiation?” she asked. “That doesn’t make any…” Then her voice trailed off. “Ohhhh, right, Hulk reference!”

“Yep! That’s the spirit!” Diego told her.

“A ‘hulk’ of what?” asked Varyyn.

“It’s another Marvel reference. You’ll understand after our next movie marathon.”

“I see,” said Varyyn, clearly still confused.

Dr. Ramsey: As much as it humiliates me to ask a favor of an intern… would you… join me upstairs? I won’t keep you long. I just don’t think I’ll survive with them on my own.

“Wow, talk about an offer!” said Craig. “Nice!”

“He invited us, and we have to pay?” asked Zahra when the diamond choice appeared. “Figures. On the bright side…” She raised her glass, looking at Jake.

“Oh! Right, drink, y’all!” Everyone took a sip of their drinks.

Quinn frowned at the screen. “This sounds so exciting… but at the same time, I don’t want to ditch our friends! That doesn’t seem very nice.”

“I guess you’ve got a point,” said Alyssa, “but come on! Box seats and expensive food!”

“But what if there’s a better choice later?” asked Michelle. “I mean, who knows? We can’t be more than halfway through the chapter.”

“Well? Shall we put it to a vote?” suggested Aleister. “I suppose I shall resume my usual duties at long last.”

“That’s the Keeper of Democracy for you,” laughed Diego. “Alright, let’s vote!”

“Very well. Who votes to accept the offer?” Aleister himself raised a hand, along with only Alyssa and Craig. “Hmph. It appears we have been outvoted.”

“Hope the next diamond choice later is a good one…” muttered Alyssa as Michelle declined the option.

Sandburg wobbles, vomits… and collapses on the mound!

“Whoa, what the hell?” asked Jake. “Did he just get heatstroke?”

“So much for ‘breather episode,’” said Diego. “Bet we’ll have to treat him?”

Quinn giggled. “Oh my god, you’re probably right!”

Team Manager: Damn! Our team physician quit on us before the game! Is anyone here a doctor?

“Yep! Called it!” exclaimed Diego triumphantly. “Our turn to shine! Or, uh, I mean, Michelle’s turn to shine!”

“Yeah, I get the feeling we’ve got a few medical choices coming up,” Michelle said. “I’m ready!”

“Either way, dude’s gonna be pretty surprised that there’s a whole group of doctors there to help, huh?” said Raj. “I mean, damn, talk about lucky.”

“Speakin’ of which, I’ve been wondering,” Jake asked Michelle. “Have you ever been in this kinda situation? Like, did anyone ever suddenly need a doctor and you were the closest they had?” Then he paused. “Uh, not countin’ La Huerta, obviously.”

Michelle laughed. “That was going to be my answer, actually,” she told him. “But other than that, no. We did have a whole lecture about what to do in that situation though, so… maybe it’ll happen sometime?”

“That sounds like a lot of pressure,” said Grace, frowning. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“No need to be concerned, Grace,” Aleister assured her, “you have numerous other talents. If I were to list them all right now, we would be here all day.”

Grace blushed, pulling Aleister into a tight hug. The rest of the group smiled at the sight, but Michelle let them have their moment before finally continuing the story.

The manager is flabbergasted, staring at the five doctors in a row.

Team Manager: Seriously?

“Okay, that was the best reaction,” said Raj, laughing along with the rest of the group at the line. “I’d probably say the same thing actually!”

“If I were him, I’d be thinking, ‘What am I, a side character in a medical drama?’” commented Diego.

Alyssa snorted through her laughter. “That’s Diego Soto: fourth-wall breaker extraordinaire!”

“Oh, you know I’d be that one guy who’s commenting on every single movie trope and reference to be found, if I were a character in anything,” he said. “Oh, how awesome would that be! I’d totally be the funny comic relief and best friend who just lampshades literally everything that happens… or compare it to movies… or…” Then, out of nowhere, the image of the King Crab popped into his head. “...On second thought, never mind. Topic’s over. Let’s end this conversation.”

“That was… abrupt,” Sean commented.

Landry: Sounds like fluid buildup… He could be in trouble if we don’t solve this fast.

“Alright!” said Craig excitedly. “You know what this means: ‘s all you, Meech!”

“Wow, you’re excited about this one,” Zahra said.

“Chyeah! This is the best chapter yet! ‘Sides, I’ve actually really wondered about sports medicine,” he explained. “Aw, Meech, that’s what you should do! Imagine working for a pro sports team! How awesome would that be?!”

Michelle couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Craig. I’m pretty dead-set on neurosurgery, though, but there are a lot of head injuries in sports, so… who knows? I might actually end up operating on a professional athlete someday!”

“Whoa, that would be AWESOME!”

MC!Michelle: You can give us some background on Sandburg.

“Yep, this one’s all you,” said Jake, attempting to put his feet up on the table as best he could with Alyssa sitting on his lap. After a few moments of trying, he sighed and gave up.

“No worries, I’ve got this,” said Michelle confidently. “Out of the options, the best thing would be to check past history for previous occurrences, so…”

“...Uhh…” said Zahra, as Michelle selected ‘Has this ever happened before?’

Team Manager: He was kind of freaking out about it. Kid kept hyperventilating. Sweating.

“Sounds pretty normal,” Diego commented. “I mean, I can definitely relate.”

“Oh, for sure,” agreed Sean. “Hell, even I’ve had a panic attack before.”

Estela crossed her arms. “Not me. I never panic.”

“Uh-huh,” said Alyssa, a knowing gleam in her eye. “Never. Right. The morning of Niala’rei, that never happened. I must’ve totally hallucinated that ENTIRE thing and-”

“Alyssa.”

Alyssa flinched back at Estela’s glare, instantly shutting her mouth. Jake couldn’t help but laugh. “Oi, Dragon Rage, you’d better teach me how to do that sometime!”

The hint of a smile appeared on Estela’s face. “Trade secret.”

“Aw, c’mon!”

Michelle shook her head, frowning. “I doubt this is just a panic attack, though; that’s too easy. And what about the fluid in the lungs? Maybe there’s something else behind it?”

“That’s a good point,” agreed Diego. “If it was just a panic attack, why put it in the chapter?”

“Exactly. Let’s see what else we can find out…”

Nighthawks Player: He always seemed tired too. Yawning in meetings, like he wasn’t getting any sleep.

MC!Michelle: Hmm…

“Okay, so add fatigue…” muttered Michelle. “Probably more than usual for a baseball player…”

“Uh, Michelle?” asked Quinn. “There’s a choice.”

Michelle looked up at the screen. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Right! Hmm, doubt it’s an injury, this feels more systemic, so… maybe changes in behavior?”

Aleister nodded in agreement. “That is a logical selection,” he said, as Michelle selected the ‘Have you noticed any changes in behavior?’ option.

“Yep, I’m lost,” said Raj. “But I trust Michelle!”

Nighthawks Player: I guess he’d been hitting the ice bath a lot lately. Probably feeling sore. But, he’d do it even when he hadn’t played that day.

“Sean, Craig, is that normal?” asked Michelle.

Craig shook his head. “Naw, as long as you’re stretchin’ properly, you shouldn’t be sore if you didn’t play!” Then he thought for a minute. “Oh! Maybe that’s part of the medical thing!”

“Thanks, Craig! You’re probably on to something, actually.”

“YES!” yelled Craig, pumping a fist into the air. “See that? I helped!”

“Yes, I see that,” said Zahra. “Honestly? I’m proud of you.”

Craig beamed excitedly. “Yes! This is the best day ever!”

“...Including our wedding?” asked Zahra, glaring at him.

Craig’s eyes went wide. “Uh… second best day ever,” he quickly corrected.

Zahra smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

MC!Michelle: Was he taking anything?

Team Manager: Sandburg wasn’t prescribed anything…

“Just because he was prescribed something doesn’t mean he couldn’t be taking something on his own,” said Michelle. “Maybe something for his panic attacks? If that’s what it was?”

“Yeah, this does seem like a weird way of putting it,” agreed Ian.

Landry: Could it be heat stroke?

Jackie: It wasn’t even that hot out today.

“Fail,” said Alyssa.

Jake scowled. “Oh yeah? Got any better ideas, Princess?”

Alyssa looked to Ian, but her brother just shook his head. She sighed. “Guess not.”

“This has quite clearly been occurring for quite some time, judging by the comments made by the other players,” Aleister observed.

“Well, excuse me if not all of us can be geniuses,” said Jake.

“Simply making an observation.”

Elijah: Panic attacks, exhaustion, soreness, fluid in the lungs… That’s a lot to attribute to just one cause.

As you deliberate, you spot a member of the Stingrays sneaking into the locker room.

“Dun-dun-dun…” said Diego.

“Honestly, I’m with you, Elijah,” Michelle said to the screen. “Talk about a constellation of symptoms. This one isn’t so easy.”

“Who cares about that? There’s a dude from the other team sneakin’ in!” shouted Craig, pointing at the screen.

Raj shook his head. “I doubt he’s gonna do anything bad, Craig. The whole Nighthawks team is in there.”

“Oh yeah,” said Craig. “Good point.”

He approaches the Nighthawk he’d been arguing with and… hugs him tightly.

Stingrays Player: So sorry, man. How are you feeling? Anything I can do?

“Whoa. Didn’t see that coming,” said Estela.

“But weren’t they violently opposed to one another a moment ago?” asked Aleister, utterly confused.

“That’s seriously awesome,” said Sean. “Wonder if he’s just being a good sport, or if there’s something more between them?”

“Either way, that’s super nice of him!” said Quinn. “Ooh, can we flirt with the baseball players too?”

“I honestly doubt it,” said Michelle, shaking her head as she continued.

Nighthawks Player: Me and Ray? We grew up playing ball in the streets of Miami. We’re basically family.

“Heh. Sounds familiar,” said Craig. “Except it was football, not baseball, and it wasn’t Miami.”

“You got that right!” agreed Sean, walking over to high-five him. “‘Basically family’ sounds about right.”

“Hell yeah, bro!”

Zahra rolled her eyes. “Just kiss already.”

Craig did kiss… Zahra, who pretended to be annoyed by it before finally giving in. “Hey, you asked!”

Zahra pretended to resist for a moment before sighing and kissing Craig back. She pulled away and said, “Alright, you win this round.”

“Get a room, you two,” laughed Jake.

“Says the guy with his wife literally on his lap!” Zahra shot back.

“I… um…”

“What exactly were you gonna say to that?” asked Alyssa, as Michelle huffed and continued the story.

MC!Michelle: (Wait… competing… makes them stronger. That’s it!)

“Ah-HAH!” exclaimed Michelle triumphantly upon reading the line. “Drug amplification!”

“What was that about drugs?” asked Raj.

Michelle smiled and shook her head. “Not, like, drug drugs,” she told him, “like medications. Specifically, I think I… uh, I mean, my character…” she amended, “is suspecting drug synergism.”

“Drug what now?” asked Craig.

“When one medication amplifies the effects of another,” she explained. “Making it stronger.”

“Oh.”

MC!Michelle: I think it’s a drug interaction! His medications are…

“Hey, that’s like what you just said, Meech!” said Craig, pointing to the ‘Amplifying each other!’ option. “Does that mean it’s right?”

“You know, you’re actually right for once!” said Michelle as she selected the option in question.

“Yes! ...Wait, ‘for once?’”

Landry: What do you think he was taking?

MC!Michelle: First, something for…

“Uh, since when was he paranoid?” asked Jake. “Even I know this one.”

“”Yeah, ‘paranoid’ sounds more like you,” said Alyssa.

“Hey! To be fair, Jake was right in that case,” Michelle pointed out. “Plus, he’s right in this case, too. It’s definitely something for his panic attacks. Maybe an SSRI of some kind?

“Wait, ‘SSRI?’” asked Craig. “Hang on… okay: ‘Super Saiyan… Running… Icicles!’”

Michelle shook her head. “‘Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors,’ actually,” she explained. “They’re usually given for panic attacks or depression, anxiety, things like that.

“Oh. That was totally gonna be my second guess.”

Zahra rolled her eyes as Michelle went ahead and chose the ‘His panic attacks!’ option.

Jackie: What’s interacting with the fluoxetine? What else was he taking?

MC!Michelle: Something for…

Michelle frowned at the screen. “I mean, he was experiencing fatigue and soreness…” she muttered. So what could be causing the interaction…?”

“For tiredness? I just take coffee,” said Jake. “What else could you really need for that?”

“Actually, that’s a good point,” said Michelle.

“Wait, what? For real?” asked Jake, genuinely surprised.

Michelle nodded. “Well, yeah. That’s exactly what most people would try first if they were feeling more tired than normal.”

“Amen to that,” agreed Zahra.

“So, I’m guessing here it’s something for the soreness.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to think. “Interactions with SSRIs…”

“I mean, you don’t have to guess the exact medication right now,” Quinn pointed out. “The choices are more general than that.”

Michelle looked back at the screen, blushing when she realized Quinn was right. “Of course. Right. Duh!” she said, selecting the ‘His soreness’ option.

MC!Michelle: He was sore all the time, even when he wasn’t playing.

Sienna: It could’ve been arthritic inflammation.

“Oh! We just learned about this!” exclaimed Michelle. “He’s a guy in his twenties… so… reactive, psoriatic, or ankylosing. Probably ankylosing?”

“...Ankle-what-now?” asked Zahra.

“Oh, sorry,” said Michelle, realizing she had been talking out loud. “Ankylosing spondylitis. It’s a type of arthritis. So, I’m trying to think about what he might be taking for it that would react with fluoxetine…”

“Well, Michelle, while that was quite an impressive deduction, there is no choice that needs to be made at the moment,” observed Aleister. “Perhaps the story will provide more information later?”

“That’s true, I guess,” Michelle admitted. “Guess I just like seeing if I can figure it out for myself first.”

MC!Michelle: Right, he’s male, in his twenties…

“Real Michelle said pretty much exactly that earlier,” Raj pointed out. “You know what that means…”

“Drink, y’all!”

MC!Michelle: He could’ve been taking an N.S.A.I.D. for it, like celecoxib.

“Heh, you said ‘cocks,’” Craig pointed out.

Zahra rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up.”

“Oh yeah, and there’s another acronym! ‘Now Stopping Ankle…’ uh, whatever thing you said before… ‘Inside…’ um, ‘Donuts!’”

Everyone laughed. “Great, now I’m hungry for donuts,” said Raj.

“‘Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drug,’ actually,” Michelle clarified.

Team Manager: Ankyl… what?

Jackie: It’s a form of arthritis that affects the spine.

Team Manager: What does all of that mumbo-jumbo mean?

“Seconded,” said Diego. “And I’m pretty sure Zahra had that exact reaction earlier.

Zahra shrugged. “Yeah, basically,” she admitted.

“Seriously, Michelle, I don’t know how you do it,” said Sean.

“Lots and lots of studying and memorization,” Michelle explained.

Diego shook his head. “Better you than me, then,” he said. “I’ll stick to teaching.”

What do you find?: Fluoxetine and celecoxib!

“Hey, about time!” said Jake. “There haven’t been nearly enough of those one-option choices in here.

“True,” said Raj. “Remember that first chapter when it was just full of them?”

“Yep. Kinda miss those days…”

Alyssa shoved Jake playfully. “‘Those days?’ Jake, we played that chapter literally yesterday!”

“Huh. Feels a lot longer than that… ah, to hell with it. Drink, y’all!” Rolling her eyes, Alyssa nevertheless took a sip of her own drink as everyone else did the same.

Elijah: The paramedics are here!

“Ooh, I hope the hot one is there!” said Quinn excitedly.

“You mean Rafael? Paramedic by day, Ninja Turtle by night?” asked Diego. “I bet you anything he shows up.”

“Wait, for real?” asked Craig. “How much? Ten bucks says he doesn’t show up!”

Diego laughed and shook his head. “Sorry, Craig, it’s just a figure of speech. I didn’t mean that literally!”

Craig frowned. “I’ll take that bet,” said Raj, holding out a hand for a handshake.

“You’re on!” said Craig, shaking his hand.

A pair of paramedics climb out. You smile as you recognize the pilot.

Rafael: Michelle? What are you doing here?

“Aw, man…” groaned Craig, when he was instantly proven wrong. Reluctantly, he pulled a $10 bill out of his pocket and handed it to Raj.

“Damn, Underdog, you shoulda taken him up on that,” Jake said to Diego.

Diego smiled. “It’s just ten bucks, Raj can have it,” he said.

“Seriously, though… I think Rafael is my new favorite character,” said Quinn, staring at his picture on the screen. “Just look at him! Oh, I hope he gets a scene this chapter!”

“I hope so too,” said Sean. “We only really saw him once so far.”

Rafael: Hey, you just moved to Boston, right? Wanna come with us?

“Well, looks like your wish is gonna come true,” said Michelle with a smile. “I’m guessing it’s going to be another premium scene…”

Fly with Rafael?

“Wow, how did she know?” Craig asked nobody in particular when the diamond option appeared.

“Aren’t you glad I kept our options open?” asked Michelle. “Since this is probably the last diamond option…”

Alyssa sighed. “Fine, you were right,” she admitted. “I’m pretty happy with getting to see more Rafael. Let’s do it.”

“Seconded,” said Sean.

“Same here,” agreed Quinn.

“Look, are we going to perform an actual vote, or no?” asked Aleister. “All in favor?”

Literally everyone raised their hands. Including Aleister.

Rafael: Everything gets put into perspective up here. It’s one of the reasons I love it so much.

MC!Michelle: …

“Wow. Whoever wrote this line deserves kudos. I feel the same way, bein’ honest,” said Jake. “When I’m flying, it’s… I dunno… I just get this feeling. Like I can do anything. Ya know?”

“When you’re flying, I get a ‘feeling,’ and it’s called ‘needing to puke,’” snarked Zahra.

Jake scowled. “You know what, Skrillex? I’d like to see you try even half the kinda stunts I’ve done.”

“You may be a great pilot, but she’s right, you’re a terrible passenger pilot,” said Alyssa.

Jake took on a pained expression. “C’mon, Princess, you’re takin’ her side?! I feel so betrayed.”

“Only because she knows it’s the truth,” said Estela.

“Alright, alright, enough,” said Michelle before the conversation could get any more heated. We still need to choose. Jake?”

“You’re askin’ me?”

“...Yes, that’s why I said ‘Jake,’” snarked Michelle. “I’ll leave this one up to you, as our resident pilot.”

“Sweet. Thanks, Maybelline. I do wanna know how he learned to fly, let’s go with that.”

Rafael: My uncle was a pilot in the Marines. He started teaching me to fly when I was still in high school.

“Wow. That’s young,” said Michelle.

“Not really,” said Jake. “I was 18 when I learned to fly.”

“...And still learning to this day,” added Alyssa.

“Alright, this topic’s over,” Jake said. Michelle took that as her cue to continue, and on the very next line...

MC!Michelle: That’s young!

Everyone erupted into laughter. “Talk about a relatable main character,” Diego commented.

“I’m starting to wonder about the whole ‘psychic phone’ theory,” admitted Michelle.

Jake smirked and raised his glass of whiskey. “That’s why we’ve got this rule,” he said. “Now drink, y’all!”

Rafael: He’s gonna make it, thanks to you.

MC!Michelle: Couldn’t have done it without you either, flyboy.

“Okay, but your character needs to work on her nicknames,” said Alyssa. “Speaking of which, Jake, did I ever tell you I almost thought of calling you ‘Aragorn’ or ‘Hotness’ that first day we met?”

“Really? Gotta say, your nicknamin’ skills will never come close to mine,” Jake laughed. “Though out of those three, at least ‘Top Gun’ was the least awful.”

“And to think, it all started because you were getting so impatient you barged in on the pilot,” Ian reminded his sister.

“Hey, good thing I did! If it hadn’t been for me, he would’ve still been asleep when that storm hit-”

“I wasn’t asleep!” interjected Jake.

“Yes, you totally were. One of these days, you’ll admit it!”

“Why, you want me to lie to ya?”

“You’re lying right now! You were definitely asleep in that cockpit!”

“Look, I know when I’m sleepin’, and I wasn’t that day, trust me! How the hell was I supposed to know La Huerta made time go all screwy, anyway?”

“Hmm, I dunno, maybe by not falling asleep!”

As everyone else watched the ensuing argument, Ian sighed and rolled his eyes. “Michelle, you might want to continue… this will go on all day if you let it,” he warned her.

Michelle nodded, struggling to contain her laughter. “Thanks for the heads up,” she said as she continued with the next line of the story, reading much louder than usual until Jake and Alyssa noticed and finally stopped arguing.

Rafael: That’s where I grew up. My grandparents bought an apartment there when they immigrated.

MC!Michelle: …

“What kind of options are these?” asked Michelle, laughing at the choices that appeared. “Talk about awkward questions…”

“Well, let’s vote then, I guess,” suggested Sean. “But yeah, these are both kinda awkward things to ask somebody we just met.”

“Very well!” began Aleister. “All in favor of-”

Quinn raised a hand hesitantly. “Uh, Aleister?” she asked. “Do you mind if I… uh, did the vote this time? I haven’t gotten to do one yet.”

Aleister frowned, opening his mouth to say something, but evidently thought better of it and stopped. “Certainly, Quinn,” he said finally.

“Great! Thanks! Alright, who votes for…”

After a quick tally of the votes, ‘Do you still live there?’ won by a small margin, though Diego didn’t vote at all due to having no idea what he wanted to choose.

MC!Michelle: Sounds like you’re a family man.

Rafael: Big time. Are you close with yours?

MC!Michelle: …

Michelle hesitated at the question. No one said anything; everyone knew that Michelle’s own relationship with her family had been a touchy subject back on La Huerta, and no one wanted to risk bringing it up. After an awkward silence, she finally looked up at the group. “So, uh… are we voting on this?” she asked.

“If you’d rather,” said Quinn. “We’ll leave it up to you.”

Michelle paused for another moment. “Mind if I take this one, then?” she asked. “I’d like to pick ‘Kind of.’ I’m actually curious to see what he says.”

“Wait, really? But I thought-” said Craig.

Zahra stomped on his foot, and he went quiet. “Ignore him. Go ahead, Michelle.”

“Thanks. I know I don’t like talking about it much, but you all deserve to know… and honestly, this elephant in the room is getting ridiculous.”

“...Elephant?” asked Varyyn. “I see no elephant.”

“Actually, things have been better these last few years. Not great, but I mean… at least better.”

Everyone smiled at the news. “That’s awesome, Michelle!” said Diego. “Glad to hear that!”

“To be completely honest, meeting all of you guys… not to mention almost dying who knows how many times… really put a lot into perspective. Things are still plenty awkward with my family, but it’s better than before.”

Quinn pulled Michelle into a tight hug. “Aw, Michelle! That’s great news! I just wish you’d told me sooner…”

“Yeah, I know,” Michelle said sheepishly. “Guess somehow I felt like I didn’t want to pile all of this on you all-”

“Aw, c’mon, after everythin’ we went through?” asked Jake. “You should know we’d be here for you.”

“Yeah, you know you can tell us anything! ‘Sides, at this point, we’re pretty much a little family of our own,” agreed Raj.

“I call being the weird cousin!” shouted Craig excitedly.

“That, you can have,” snarked Zahra.

Michelle couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re all a bunch of dorks, but god, I love you all. Even you, Aleister.”

There was another ripple of laughter as Aleister said nothing, completely unsure how to respond to that.

Rafael: But it seems you’ve found a new family for yourself.

“Okay, so Raj got predicted this time, whoa,” said Diego.

“Not sure if I should count that as a rule, or if we should just toast to Michelle after that heart-to-heart,” said Raj, “but either way…”

Everyone looked to Jake. “Hell if I’m gonna turn it down,” he said. “Drink, y’all! To Michelle!”

“To Michelle!” everyone echoed.

“And to the best bunch of misfits I’ve ever been lucky enough to meet,” said Michelle, raising her own glass and toasting once more.

“To the Catalysts!” said Varyyn.

“Y’know, you might as well be an ‘honorary Catalyst’ at this point, Varyyn,” said Raj, as Varyyn blushed a deep blue.

Rafael: Want to see a really nice view?

“If by ‘nice view’ he means ‘taking his shirt off,’ then yes please!” said Quinn.

“Hell yes,” agreed Zahra.

“Doubt it, but that would be nice,” said Sean. “Plus, we’ve seen Jackie and Bryce in their underwear already, about time Rafael got a turn!”

“I like the way you think,” said Michelle. Unfortunately, Rafael did not remove his shirt in the scene, to the disappointment of most of the group.

MC!Michelle: Thanks for showing me this. (I should say something…)

“Flirty, duh,” said Michelle, picking the option immediately.

“Ahem! Are we even going to vote-”

“Oh, c’mon Malfoy, we all know it woulda won anyway,” Jake said.

Aleister crossed his arms. “Yes, but that is not the point. It’s the principle of the thing, after all, and…”

You hold his gaze for a long, warm moment.

“Kiss him!” Michelle yelled at her MC.

“Meech, she’s you,” Craig pointed out.

“Craig, she’s not literally me.”

“Wait, what? But you named her ‘Michelle’ and everything! Plus aren’t you saying what she says?”

“That doesn’t mean the character is ACTUALLY Michelle, dumbass!” shouted Zahra.

“Huh? Great, now my brain hurts….”

Rafael: But unfortunately, I need to get this chopper back.

“Aww… talk about a missed opportunity,” complained Quinn.

“Hopefully we’ll see more of him!” said Diego. “Ooh, maybe even a date in the secret Ninja Turtle lair?”

“...Isn’t that a sewer?” asked Ian. “Seems less than romantic.”

“You don’t think they would’ve upgraded in the last ten or so years? Come on, think bigger!”

“Where d’you think they’d get the money for that from? April O’Neil isn’t exactly Tony Stark.”

“Uh… well, maybe she won the lottery somehow, and she split it with the Turtles?” suggested Diego. “And now they’ve got an epic high-tech lair?”

As Ian and Diego continued to debate whether or not the Ninja Turtles would be able to afford an upgrade from the sewers, Estela sighed and shook her head, amused. “This will also go on all day if we let it,” she warned the group.

“Believe me, I know,” agreed Alyssa. “Michelle?”

“Alright, Ninja Turtle conversation over,” Michelle announced. Ian and Diego frowned and stopped talking, letting Michelle continue the story.

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“Is this even a question?” asked Quinn. “Hold his hand!”

“Uh, of course!” agreed Michelle, selecting the option. In the background, Aleister made awkward noises of protest at Michelle’s overriding of the vote once again, but everyone ignored him.

With a contented sigh, you try the door into the building… and find it locked.

“Wow. Talk about fail,” said Alyssa.

“To be fair, would anyone really be expecting her to come in through the roof?” asked Grace.

“Well, no,” admitted Alyssa, “but wouldn’t Michelle have a phone? She could’ve called ahead! ...Uh, character Michelle. Not the real one.”

“How many Michelles are there?” asked Craig, scrunching up his face in confusion. “I’m lost.”

Your own words come back to you… Competing makes them stronger. You suddenly sit up and head for the door.

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Diego excitedly. “I get it! She’s gonna enter the competition!”

“I sure hope you’re right,” Michelle said. “It makes sense!”

“That was actually kind of a cool way to set it up,” Sean said. “‘Competing makes them stronger’ is valuable for a lot of things, not just sports, after all. It works for life too.”

“Alright, that I understand!” said Craig. “We did that all the time, like for studying or whatever. It worked, too!”

MC!Michelle: I want in.

“FINALLY!” exclaimed Michelle. “About time!”

“Yep, totally called it!” said Diego.

“Sure took long enough,” said Zahra sarcastically. “Chapter’s gotta be nearly over!”

His eyes move from you, to the clock mounted on the wall… 12:01 AM.

Dr. Ramsey: I’m sure I made it clear that the cutoff was midnight.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” said Raj.

“Why am I not surprised?” groaned Zahra. “Ugh. What a dick.”

Quinn shook her head. “That’s so unfair! We’ve got to find a way to get in anyway, right?”

“I hope so!” agreed Diego.

Dr. Ramsey: So go ahead. Tell me why I should make an exception for you.

MC!Michelle: I…

“Wow, that second choice sounds like something Dr. Ramsey himself would say,” Michelle commented upon seeing the ‘I’m the best you’ve got’ option.

“Ha. You’re not wrong,” agreed Raj. “I like the first choice: ‘I want to help people like you do.’”

Michelle nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” she agreed. “That’s more like what I would actually say.” She started to select the choice in question.

“Can we PLEASE vote on this one?!” demanded Aleister through his megaphone.

Everyone laughed. “Wow, someone’s passionate about this,” said Estela.

“When he brings out the megaphone, you know it’s serious,” added Jake.

“Alright, Aleister, go ahead,” said Quinn.

“Thank you, Quinn. At least someone understands the importance of democracy,” said Aleister before calling for the vote.

To no one’s surprise, ‘I want to help people the way you do’ won by a large margin; only Aleister, Craig, and Alyssa picked the other one. “See? Voting made absolutely no difference,” Zahra pointed out.

“As I made quite clear earlier, it is the principle of the thing!”

Michelle ignored him and chose the relevant option.

Dr. Ramsey: You had me worried there.

“Secret test of character! Love it!” said Diego excitedly. “He totally knew she was gonna do it.”

“Alright, Diego, you called that whole thing,” said Sean. “Nice!”

“What can I say? I’ve got a talent for this,” said Diego, blushing.

You’re officially in the running for the fellowship! What does Ethan have in store for you? Keep playing to find out!

“So, does this mean next chapter we can finally start the competition?” asked Quinn.

Michelle nodded. “We’d better! And we are so gonna win.”

“Hell yeah!” shouted Craig.

“Gotta say, it’s good to be playing this with you guys again,” said Raj, standing up from his chair. “And after that donut conversation earlier, I’m gonna go grab a box for everyone. Sound good?”

“Awesome!” said Craig. “Thanks, dude!”

Raj wandered off into the kitchen. “Alright, somebody’d better go keep an eye on him, or he might go missin’ for another two chapters,” snarked Jake.

“Yeah, this time, let’s not start until everyone’s back,” Sean suggested. “Who knows what distractions might come up.”

“Fair enough,” agreed Quinn. “By the way, speaking of distractions… where is Furball?”

Everyone looked around the lobby, realizing that, indeed, the little purple fox had wandered off somewhere once again. “Oh no,” muttered Ian.

Michelle sighed. “Here we go again…”

Next Chapter: Link

Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @marmolady @endlesssummerfan

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wavesofinkdrops · 6 years

Text

A Very Commie Christmas

A/N: Pure fluff. Alfred has Seen Too Many Things(TM). And fluff again. Enjoy.

Notes: vesnushki = freckles in russian. @derevosky wonderful idea for a cute nickname, thank you for letting me use it and give it the acknowledgement it deserves! Merry Christmas to all!

“Alfred.”

“A minute!”

“I thought you wanted this to be “quick and painless”?” Ivan shot up the stairs.

There was a soft curse before Alfred appeared at the top of the stairs, wrapped in probably all the winter clothing he had packed - a scarf, a long and thick coat (Ivan knew he was wearing at least two shirts and a jumper underneath), jeans (and probably tights under, but Ivan doubted Alfred would admit to them), his favourite and only pair of earmuffs and the mittens Ivan had bought him the year before. “Yeah, but I couldn’t find my scarf. And it’s friggin’ freezing. Arthur always rearranges my stuff when I unpack, blame him.” He fumbled through his coat pockets, the mittens making his movements clumsier than usual.

Ivan reached over to dig through Alfred’s pockets, found his key and unlocked the door.

Alfred huffed, already miffed at the cold weather. “Let’s go,” he said, before stepping out. Ivan caught the umbrella from the doorway, knowing that they’d been promised rain or hail or snow - or a combination of all. They hurried their way to the metro station under the grey sky (Alfred wanted to sprint, Ivan was leisurely walking behind him), and from there went to the city centre.

After Ivan managed to convince Alfred to leave the warmth of the Underground, because we have business to tend to, Alfred, they came out into the cold London winter - and rain. Actually, it wasn’t even proper rain - it was an annoying wet mixture of snow and rain. Ivan managed to get the umbrella over them before Alfred could begin moaning. Ivan would never understand how despite Alfred having areas in the north (not mentioning Alaska, where Alfred was known to usually spend a week in during winter), the man would whine at the first hint of cold weather - be it in Russia or Britain or anywhere.

Brompton Road was hellishly busy, and the more they navigated through the crowd of bustling people, the more the both of them dreaded their day’s plan. They’d only arrived in London the day before for Arthur’s annual Christmas party (dubbed by Alfred and Matthew as their “ex-Empire dad’s yearly where-have-my-colonies-gone gathering”), and now had to go Christmas shopping. Neither had had the foresight to do it in their respective countries, and now were forced to settle for the Sunday rush of Christmas shoppers in Harrods.

Alfred had began going on and on, most likely about things they needed to buy - although when Ivan listened closer, after distinguishing the sentence, “Matthew’s a complete dick with his whole Bombardier deal, he keeps bitching about the tariffs he brought onto himself!” he really had no idea what Alfred was speaking of.

It wasn’t long before they arrived to the grand and lavish department store Harrods, and Ivan felt an immediate sense of being overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people and light and things there were. Alfred was already halfway through taking off nearly every layer of warm clothing he had on himself, having removed his coat, his jumper, his gloves, his earmuffs and his scarf.

“Okay, we’re here. Where do we start?” Alfred asked, and Ivan dug into his pocket for the list Alfred had made of presents and things they needed to find. Ivan handed the list to Alfred, who began reading off it and explaining where they’d find things. At one point, he paused. “I’ve been here too many times if I can list off every floor this easily. C’mon, let’s go, let’s start from the top and go down from there.”

Of course, it was a journey in itself, navigating the ground floor between the different islands of makeup and beauty products, Ivan somewhat astonished at the sheer number of different shades of lipstick and blush that were there - there was no way that many colours could even exist. (Once he saw the first hint of blue lipstick, however, he gave up trying to understand people’s tastes - if that colour had been produced and marketed, it had to sell.)

“Ivan, come on!” Alfred ushered, trying not to go too fast for fear of losing Ivan - though losing a six-foot-too-many-inches-tall Russian guy in the middle of a sea of Brits wasn’t too easy a task. They reached the elevators, by which point Ivan seemed somewhat out of breath already.

“Is this all really necessary?” he asked Alfred in the over-crowded lift.

“What do you mean?” Alfred’s eyebrows had that small confused arch that was so very characteristic of him. “What’s necessary?” Ivan shrugged. “Merely that this all seems… rather excessive.”

Alfred paused. “Uhm… sure? I don’t know, seems normal to me. It’s a bit busy here today, that’s all.”

“I meant the amount of… things here. Products. How many shades of lipstick do they need?”

Alfred laughed. “The people who come here are usually pretty stinkin’ rich, and British. They need seven shades a day, and another one for special occasions.”

Ivan smiled, and they rode the elevator in silence to the fifth floor. Alfred deemed Matthew in need of some new sportswear, and Ivan was finally told the relationship between Matthew’s Christmas present and the US tariffs on Canada.

“Matthew’s bitchy over the stupid planes or whatever, so I’ll bet it’s because he broke his favourite hockey stick or something,” Alfred explained.

Though they didn’t get a hockey stick, they managed to find a nice hoodie for Matthew - even though Alfred claimed Matthew already had too many, but he’d been once told by the Canadian: “What does too many hoodies mean? That sentence doesn’t exist.”

“Ok, now we can skip the fourth and go straight to the third floor - that’s where all the cool stuff is. Trust me, Britain doesn’t get much cooler than the toy kingdom or the tech section here,” Alfred told Ivan, before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the escalators.

The thing was, it wasn’t just any escalators in any random department store - this was Harrods. Alfred said it was called the ‘Egyptian room,’ but Ivan was confused as to what part exactly he was supposed to look at. When he focused, he could make out the Ancient Egypt-like diagrams, patterns and hieroglyphs on the beige “stone” walls, but it was rather confusing - the colourful artwork was crowded by Christmas lighting, white frivolous decorations serving as support for bright yellows, blues, reds, purples and greens. It was colours galore, and having never been to Harrods before, the extravagance of it was rather off-putting. Combined with the crowd of upper-class Englishmen and women, the overall effect it had on Ivan was… perhaps not the best he could have had.

Alfred went on about their next steps. “First we’ll stop at Toy Kingdom, because there’s always the coolest things ever there, and also I’m pretty Jett and James want something from there - oh, and Peter too, and then we’ll walk around the furniture place if we can find something nice… Even if Arthur probably just wants tea, he also really needs a new couch-”

“You are not buying him a new couch, are you?”

Alfred laughed. “No, but I might just buy him a new carpet or small table or pillows that doesn’t match his couch and Francis will force him to change it. Francis hates that couch more than I do.”

They got off the escalator, and Alfred steered them to the furniture section. There were more couches, more tables, more random decorations than Ivan cared to count - and the place seemed to continue for multiple hallways. Alfred continued speaking, happily drifting through the different displays and pointing out things that caught his attention (granted, many things managed to catch his attention).

“Oh, and Francis is coming too, I forgot - I guess we gotta get him something too, seeing as he’s, like, a second dad to me or something, so d’you think he’d like incense? Or maybe some cologne. Although he probably has loads of those. Or a new tie, which is a classic - oh, hey! He had that new fancy suit, I’ll bet he wants a new tie, wasn’t it a kinda blue-kinda-grey shade? I think he’d like a nice tie with that - how ridiculous ties d’you reckon we can find?”

A rather nice coffee table caught Ivan’s attention, but when he turned the tag to show its price, his eyebrows shot up. “Isn’t this place somewhat… expensive?”

Alfred turned to him. “Well, yeah. That’s the point. It’s the most famous department store in this entire country - okay, actually, in probably the entire world? Also the stuff they have here is like prime quality,” Alfred explained.

Ivan looked at the price tag again with an almost - could Alfred call it disdainful? - look on his face. There was a very distinct pause in Alfred’s mind, and a few select memories of his decided to appear right then and there.

He knew that look, and if it was anything to go by, he would be haunted by a ghost and today would not be enjoyable.

No, that was irrational. He was overthinking it.

However, as predicted, the trip didn’t turn out much better than it had started.

It didn’t matter whether it was in the toy section, where Alfred showed Ivan the cool robots and other toys that were there, or whether it was in the tech section, or in the artwork section, or the menswear, but everywhere they went Ivan threw around certain questions that made Alfred doubt the entirety of his life for the past twenty or so years.

“Have you looked at this price?”

“I could have a suit tailor-made at home and it would cost a quarter of this.”

He could swear he heard Ivan mutter, “Bourgeoisie,” with an exasperated look on his face, at one point. Alfred had half a mind to tell him to let the rich people be.

The look of amusement, confusion and (dare Alfred say it?) derision at the number of people, the number and variety of products, and especially at their prices never left Ivan’s face.

Ivan was, as far as Alfred was aware, still a goddamn capitalist country, yet he had to make a scene about the place the likes of which Alfred hadn’t seen Ivan pull before. And he was not appreciating the flashbacks he was getting.

And the moment Ivan scoffed at the price of a golden bluetooth speaker in the shape of a bulldog with sunglasses, Alfred decided he was glad they were in Europe and that he was legally allowed to drink, based on his ID. He felt in need of a strong Guinness right then and there. Ivan turned to Alfred, and his face turned to outright confusion.

“Alfred, are you alright?”

Alfred blinked. “What?”

“You look rather pallid,” Ivan stated, and Alfred tried to squash the memories of a certain communist scoffing at the “decadent capitalist society” from popping up again.

“I’m fine,” Alfred huffed. He did a quick mental checklist, and upon realising that they had everything they needed and came here for, he announced, “We’re going to a pub.” Alfred had seen enough capitalism for one day.

It was a small problem to get their coats and scarves and other winter clothing back on before going outside, but they managed it. Alfred had been silent pretty much the entire time after leaving the building, with a look as if he’d seen a ghost (which Ivan recognised easily from their horror movie evenings).

As they made their way out and through the streets, the fresh air seemed to help Alfred recover somewhat. “Arthur told me about this place down a few streets that’s pretty good or well-known,” Alfred explained as they drew away from the busy Brompton Road. “It has this really English name too, something like Lion’s Mane or Head or something.”

They turned another corner, and arrived in front of the place.

Warm air wafted onto and around them when Alfred opened the door, bustling in with his shopping bags and all. Ivan followed him, until Alfred paused and huffed. “It’s completely packed. Let’s try that other place along the way.”

It turned out that, in the end, every single pub managed to be completely overloaded, and they resigned themselves to returning to Arthur’s home.

When they walked in, the house was still empty - Matthew hadn’t landed yet, and Arthur (and by extension, Francis) were probably still at Downing Street - Francis had decided to tag along solely to “irritate” Arthur (Arthur claimed that was Francis’ aim, despite everyone knowing that was a blatant lie, but no one deemed it necessary to call him out on it).

After having shed every single additional layer of clothing and dropping off their bags in their respective - separate - rooms (Arthur had made precise and careful arrangements - ‘no international scandals under my bleeding roof’, to which Francis had choked on his wine while stifling a laugh), they went back downstairs and Alfred promptly beelined for and crashed on the couch, Ivan following suit.

“Boy, was that an experience,” Alfred sighed.

Ivan readjusted himself, and so did Alfred. He was now fit snugly under Ivan’s arm and against his chest, his body sprawled along the couch’s length and his legs hanging over the armrest, while Ivan sat at the other end.

“What do you mean?” Ivan asked. “That was not so horrible as I imagined, just somewhat excessive for my tastes.”

“Somewhat?” Alfred craned his neck to look Ivan in the eyes with disbelief. “Dude, I literally saw a ghost walking right up alongside me in there!”

“A ghost?” Ivan’s voice was laced with amusement, the same kind a parent would use at a child’s fantastic adventure stories.

“Hi, yeah, throwback Thursday to the Soviet Union - dude, you’re a capitalist now, you’re supposed to live in places like these!”

Ivan laughed. “I do not think that’s quite how everyone else perceives capitalism.”

“Whatever, man, that was a scare you gave me right there.” Alfred paused. “A red scare, actually.”

He felt Ivan momentarily stop moving, barely breathing. Then there was a shift, and Alfred was shoved off of Ivan and left to drop back onto the couch.

“That was terrible, Alfred,” Ivan huffed, but there was a clear hint of a smile on his lips as he went to the small, old chest in the corner of the room, where Arthur kept all his blankets folded up neatly.

“That was a great pun! And you totally deserved that!” For that, he earned a blanket to his face, and Ivan then came back to the couch.

“I ‘totally’ did not,” he countered as he began poking Alfred to shift aside to let him fit. Alfred refused to sit up, so Ivan settled instead for lying next to Alfred on the couch. It was rather a tight fit, what with two grown men on a normal-sized couch, but neither seemed to care.

“Totally did, for scaring me like that. I don’t like ghosts.” Alfred yawned, and Ivan flicked his nose gently.

“We all know that, vesnushki,” Ivan said, laughing softly at Alfred look of affrontment.

“Whatever. I’m dead tired right now, so maybe we can just chill here for a bit until they come back or til Mattie arrives,” Alfred suggested. “You’re real warm and comfy and this is nice,” he continued, melding his body next to Ivan’s and nuzzling into his chest. The blanket managed to mostly cover them both, especially when Alfred tangled his legs with Ivan’s and hugged him closer.

“That is a very attractive idea.” Ivan began stroking Alfred’s hair, before removing Alfred’s glasses, reaching behind and placing them on the coffee table. Alfred let out an appreciative hum, and he sighed in content.

There was a moment of silence. Alfred interrupted it. “I hate this couch.”

Ivan chuckled, before petting Alfred’s hair. “Shush. I thought you wanted to take a nap.”

“Well I didn’t say that, but now you mention it that sounds great.”

“OI, ALFRED!”

“Sometimes I do wonder how you are not already deaf, with the amount if yelling you do,” Francis sniffed, brushing snow off his coat before hanging it into the hallway.

“He was supposed to get the ham, and I want to make sure that I didn’t buy this ham,” Arthur said, lifting the bag in his hand, “for nothing. He would be forgetful enough to not do what I specifically asked him to.”

They heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and in came Matthew.

“Oh, Matthew, you’re he-”

“Matthieu, mon fils!” Francis interjected, giving him the customary French cheek kisses.

“Yeah, arrived an hour or so ago.”

Francis turned to Arthur. “Alfred must still be out with Ivan-”

“Oh no,” Matthew smiled, a cheeky and devious grin that both Europeans knew bode nothing good. It was the same smile Alfred had worn before his Easter prank (also known as the reason why rabbits and screwdrivers - both tool and drink - were no longer allowed at meetings). “He’s here all right. Both are.”

“That lad needs to learn how to respond-”

“Don’t think he heard you,” Matthew stated.

“I think Paris heard him,” Francis said with a confused tone.

“He’s sleeping on your couch - well, more like on Ivan on your couch. It’s sweet. I have a lot of blackmail and prank material now.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and stomped to the living room. Sure enough, Alfred had mostly climbed on top of Ivan, huddled under the blanket. Ivan’s arms were holding Alfred tight, one hand around his body and the other in his hair.

Arthur leaned on the couch armchair. “MR. JONES AND MR. BRAGINSKY!”

Alfred jerked up, simultaneously somehow managing to shove Ivan off the couch. And seeing as he had been on Ivan, he ended up on the floor too. There was a panicked screech and a groan, before Alfred stumbled up from the floor.

He turned around, and seeing Ivan rubbing his back where he’d landed with Alfred on him, Alfred offered his hand to help him up. He only then seemed to realise he’d been woken up, and turned to see Arthur’s deadpan expression.

“Did you get the ham?” Arthur asked.

Alfred blanched. “I… uh - I mean, I meant to?”

Matthew was laughing in the background, while Arthur rolled his eyes. “Thank God I knew I could trust you to be that forgetful,” he muttered, before going to the kitchen.

“It’s Ivan’s fault! He scared me with his whole the-Soviet-Union’s-back act!”

“Al, please, that’s sad even from you.”

“I was scared!”

“Well I can believe that, seeing as you needed your Russian bear to comfort you, eh?” Matthew asked, pulling up a photo on his phone and showing it to Alfred.

“That’s - no - what is that-”

“It is a picture of you and me, sleeping on the couch,” Ivan explained. “Have I told you you look adorable when you sleep?”

“Let them be, Matthieu,” Francis interjected before Alfred could begin sputtering. He swung an arm around Matthew and directing him away from the other two. “L’amour is sweet, and should be allowed to have its course. That includes naps,” Francis concluded.

And as Alfred whirled around to huff at Ivan, Ivan simply wrapped his arms and himself around Alfred, and pulled them both back onto the couch.

Ivan sighed contentedly as Alfred wriggled around. “Shush, now, it is Christmas and the both of us should just enjoy the peace and quiet-”

“Francis get your bloody hands off that!”

“- of the holidays.” He felt Alfred snicker in his arms, and he smiled.

“You’re a big sap, you know?”

“Only for you, vesnushki,” Ivan smiled and kissed Alfred’s hair, and felt him burrow deeper into his arms. It was set to be a wonderful and lovely Christmas.

#rusame #christmas #holiday fic #fluff #pure fluff #aph russia #aph america #my writing #aph canada #aph england #aph france #december dragon this is all your fault

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Text

DEVIL MAY GRIND

(I)- Can You Touch This?

Dante/ GN!Reader

Series Summary: From a surprise rendezvous to a male strip club on your birthday to a private dance, you end up seeing eye-to-eye rather than eye-to-groin with a cowboy stripper named Dante Sparda.

Tags/Warnings: 18+, Gender-Neutral! Reader, Stripper!AU, Minors Do Not Try It, Wholesome Filth

Rodeo’s Two-Pieces: The rest of the series will likely be gender-neutral until the erotica in which I will include a gender-neutral sex scene.

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice person. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.