#I'M STILL CRYING OVER HOW SWEET THIS WAS OF YOU TO READ MY CHART

[justarandombrit]

Okay, so in case anyone couldn't make it to the livestream (and just because I wanted to), I wrote down some notes while watching it, so if anyone wants to read them, they're below the cut. (Also sorry ANI fans, my dad came in to borrow a pencil while the ANI segment was happening, so I missed a lot of it)

. There was a 4 minute long intro voice over before AVPM

. James watched AVPM

. 600,000 and Lauren plays the green screen piano

. 700,000 and Lauren does an architectural digest on the green screen house

. Jon really loves Ready To Go

. Darren keeps letting Joey know he sounds like shit on old recordings

. Pinball Pete’s burnt down 🙏🙏

. MAMD was the first student produced album to make the charts

. A Very Potter Sequel’s name came before A Very Potter Musical

. They accidentally wrote Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

. James gave Julia Albain leg splints

. During Starship the entire cast was breathing fibreglass

. Starship was called “knowingly amateurish”

. Darren was supposed to write 15 songs for Starship, but he got cast on GLEE

. Darren flew in to join a rehearsal as a surprise, ran in singing Beauty and everyone was so pissed

. Everyone still loves Kick It Up A Notch

. Nick: “Which was Holy Musical B@man-

Lauren: “Fuck yeah”

. They made up Sweet Tooth, and then found out he was an actual Batman villain

. Matt came up with “Calendar Man, your days are numbered” in his dream, and it was so good it forced him awake to instantly call Nick

. Everyone thought the flying machine joke was the best AVPM joke

. Goin' Back To Hogwarts Reprise made everyone cry

. AVPSY was five hours long

. Curt saw AVPSY

. Darren arrived 2 hours before the show and didn't get a chance to read through a lot of the script

. Darren came up with “I hope you find that swimming pool”

. Joey ate one banana on the day of AVPSY and during Sidekick went “I'm losing my vision”

. They had to pay the hotel union $11,000 to use THEIR OWN microphones, and Darren's STILL BROKE

. Jeff accidentally washed out his Aladdin hair dye

. A.J. Holmes had the same agent as Jafar's original VA, and they got him to do the intro and say “pee” and “poop” in Jafar's voice

. ANI was, as we know, expected to be a hit, and, as we know, it was not

. TTO was, as we know, expected to fail, and, as we know, did not

. TTO had a batshit cast party

. Pierce used to ask Matt insanely complicated questions before bed, e.g, “How did WWII happen?”

. Firebringer was a really old concept

. Literally no one questioned why the “I don't really wanna do the work today” clip had loads of people dressed as cavewomen + cavemen

. Firebringer was the first show Jon saw live

. They made up all the Hatchetfield shows at the same time

. Nick kept making sure Paul was having fun

. The song from the Pirate Show, “Born To Be Wretched goes so fucking hard. Like if a sea shanty was a musical theatre song essentially

. Mariah: “Rich gays, please give”

. Lauren choreographed Show Stoppin' Number

. People actually gave Lauren their phones when she asked in Inevitable, and they would take them backstage and take selfies before giving them back. One time it was locked and she shouted “WHAT'S THE PASSCODE?!?!?”

. Joey: “I'm in the middle of Wiggle”

. Everyone was ill during Black Friday

. Bryce saw Black Friday

. BRYCE GOT THE APPLE

. Nick told her “Interesting things happen here” when showing her to the seat

. Ahhh when Jeff played Tom…

. Angela was in Jaime’s improv class

. Angela is no longer on vocal rest

. Angela had to kill Sherman with a finger gun one night

. Will was 100% ready for NPMD

. Will was at a party they went to during A Very Starkid Reunion

. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR STARKID

. Rip Kim

. The Docks of Troutspear is sung by Matt’s favourite character (it also slaps)

. The Pit Stop in Hatchetfield livestream is going to be a tag team deathmatch

. I love Starkid so much

#starkid #team starkid #cinderella's castle #cinderellas castle #starkid productions

[multifandomhaven]

A/N: Call of Duty brain rot has set in lolol I hope y'all enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

Y/N was a simple woman, or so she liked to think. She went to work, back to her apartment, and sometimes she'd hit the gym. She was what most people would call bland, a wet blanket. Boring.

She was single, with no kids, and no man in her life - it was lonely sometimes, sure, but she liked it. It gave her time to focus on the thing that really meant something to her - her practice.

"Doctor Laswell, the next patient is ready for you," the nurse called into her office.

Y/N rose from her chair, glancing over the chart in her hand before she entered the room with a small smile. "Hello, how are you guys today?"

The young couple looked from the young puppy in the woman's lap and then back to the doctor. "We're doing okay, just here to get Bella's shots up to date."

Taking the squirmy little thing from her owner, Y/N cuddled it to her chest, chuckling when it gave her a few sloppy kisses on her cheek. "You're so sweet, aren't you, girl."

Y/N loved her job. She had always had a knack for taking care of animals - for the most part, all they wanted was a warm place to sleep, some good food, and love. They were simple, easy to read, and never meant you harm unless you gave them a reason - they were with you for life, unwavering and full of devotion.

Y/N quickly administered the medication to the puppy, rubbing the sore spot down with her gloved fingers gently. "You're so brave, Bella. Such a good girl," she cooed.

Giving the nurse the puppy's record to update, Y/N turned and handed the dog back to her owners. "Okay, you're good to go for now. Just stop by the ladies at reception to make sure you get the appointment set up for her final round of shots, okay?"

The rest of the day went by in a blur, animal after animal treated, and, as much as Y/N enjoyed her job, she was ready to get home to her warm bubble bath. She washed her hands and bid her staff goodbye as they filed out one by one until she was the only person left in the office. She turned the lights off, making sure everything was as it should be before she locked the door and walked to her car.

She unlocked her car before she got to it, ready to sit down and give her aching feet a rest. She reached out to open the door when she felt something hard hit her across the side of her head. She fell to her knees, her vision blurring as she crashed to the ground. Her palms and knees burned as the asphalt scraped away the skin. She blinked quickly, trying to clear her sight.

"Laswell?" The man asked from above her, his voice almost a growl. When she didn't answer he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her face to look at him. "Are you Y/N Laswell?"

Y/N gasped, pain shooting through her head. "Yes, yes, that's me."

Her sight finally cleared and she struggled to sit up, seeing two large men with masks covering their faces. One had a gun while the other continued to land hit after hit to her, her body, her face, anywhere he could. She was crying now, her arms covering her face as she tried to protect herself as best she could.

"Tell that bitch to make it right," the man sneered at her. "Or you're dead."

She was left in the parking lot by herself, blood coming from the cut on her head and her lip. She dug desperately in her purse, finding her phone and pulling it out with shaking hands. She was still crying, tears mixing with the blood that dripped onto her scrubs.

"Laswell," her aunt's voice came from the other end of the line. "Hello?"

Y/N sobbed into the receiver. "Aunt Kate?"

"What's wrong," Kate asked instantly, her voice tight. "Bunny?"

"There were these men," Y/N explained the situation as best she could through her panic. "Can you call an ambulance to the office? I don't think I can drive."

"They're on the way, Bunny, just stay where you are," Kate told her. "I'm on my way to you. I'll see you in a bit."

A few hours later, Y/N and Kate had finally been reunited in the emergency department of the hospital. Y/N was cleared to go home as soon as the bags of antibiotics and fluid were gone - just as a precaution, they told her. They had given her an injection for pain, but still, she found her head throbbing with every movement.

"Okay," Kate mumbled under her breath, pacing from one end of the room to the other. It seemed like time was in an endless loop - Kate would stop to ask questions, jot them down on a notepad, grumble to herself, and then go back to pacing. At times Y/N could've sworn she could see the older woman looking at her, her eyes filling with tears before she would excuse herself into another room.

Y/N frowned, watching Kate's back disappear into the tiny bathroom once again. She wanted to follow her, to check on her, but the pounding in her head kept her seated. Slowly, she brought the ice pack back up and pressed it against the offending pain, grimacing when the ice pack made contact with the bruise surrounding her eye. The television was on in the background, the volume whisper-low, but she paid it no attention.

It wasn't long before Kate came back out, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. She gave her niece a small, tight-lipped smile. "Allergies."

"Aunt Kate, please you need to sit down and stop worrying. You're going to raise your blood pressure." Kate still paced the length of the room, just a little bit slower. Y/N tried to cut the tension with a joke, "Or walk a hole in the floor. They probably wouldn't appreciate that..."

Kate didn't fall for it and, instead, she came over and surveyed the damage to her niece's face with a grimace. Gently, she turned her face from one side to the other, her fingers grasping her chin. "Oh Bunny," she whispered.

"I'm okay," Y/N tried to soothe her. "Kate, I'm okay."

Kate almost glared at her, no true malice for her niece, purely frustration at the circumstance. "You're telling me that you're not in pain right now?"

"It'll heal," she said softly. "Come on, you've been waiting on me hand and foot since you got here. I haven't seen you in almost a year and I've missed you."

"Oh, Bunny, you know I've missed you too," Kate's eyes softened slightly and she nodded, sitting on the bed beside her. "Okay. Do you need anything?"

Y/N took her hand and simply held it - something she'd done as a child that still brought her a semblance of comfort. The older woman rubbed her hand softly, her eyes trained intently on her niece. "This is enough for now."

Kate nodded and sighed. "Okay, okay."

They sat there quietly for the first time since Kate had arrived. Y/N's mind was whirling with thoughts and memories. Most from the attack, but in between the awful there were also some from when she was a child - so she chose to focus on the good ones. She peeked around the icepack and asked, "Do you remember the first time you and Rachel took me ice skating?"

"Oh God. You were a wreck - you looked like the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz when he first started walking." Kate laughed. The memory curled the corner of her lips - the younger woman's superpower if she had one - and she shook her head lightly. "You know, if it were up to Rachel she'd be here too - you are her favorite person."

Y/N gave her hand a small squeeze, taking her chance to change the subject. "How is Aunt Rach?"

"She's doing well," Kate admitted. "She's at an art show in New York right now."

Y/N had always been envious of her aunt's artistic ability. Sure, she could draw the basics, but Rachel's work was nothing short of beautiful. She wasn't even ten years old the first time she met Rachel. She was tall, thin, and willowy - she looked like something from another planet to Y/N. She was gorgeous. That day she took the time to show Y/N how to draw a rose - something the younger girl kept close to her heart for years to come.

"She's talented and she knows it," Y/N said fondly. "I miss her."

Kate agreed, a flash of pride in her eyes. "She would love for you to come stay with us - for as long as you'd want to. We both would."

"That's very kind," Y/N felt a surge of appreciation for her words but still disagreed. "But I'll be okay back at my apartment. Plus, I don't want to impose."

"Impose," Kate huffed with a roll of her eyes. "You live alone, you don't have any kind of protection. Your building's security is lacking. And plus, you're my favorite niece."

"I'm your only niece," Y/N sighed. She knew Kate was right, but she didn't want to place any more worry or guilt on her aunt's shoulders. She was still frightened, though. "How does Rachel stay safe while you're gone? Does she have a gun?"

Kate nodded seriously. "Yes, she does. She carries it in her purse, with a concealed carry permit, of course. I taught her how to shoot when we first started dating, just in case."

"Of course you did," Y/N smiled as best she could, wincing when her split lip seared with pain. "So do you think I should get one, too?"

Again, Kate nodded. "You know my stance on that. However..."

Y/N raised a brow. "What?"

"I think I may have a solution," Kate admitted. "You aren't going to like it, but remember, this would be temporary. Just until I know I have the people who did this to you."

Y/N was curious, sure, but she also knew she likely wasn't going to like what Kate had to offer. She waited, watching as the wheels in her aunt's brilliant mind spun, slowly clicking the puzzle pieces together. She pulled out her phone, tapped some buttons, and finally looked genuinely relieved since the first time she'd arrived. "It's damn near perfect."

"What are you thinking," Y/N questioned. "You look like you've solved world hunger."

"I have someone coming to keep a watch on you," Kate told her. "He'll be the one with the gun, so you don't have to worry about that. He'll stay with you until we get these bastards. Until you're safe."

"Are you talking about a bodyguard?" Y/N furrowed her brows. "Kate, c'mon. I don't think that's necessary-"

Kate cut her off. "I have just the person in mind. I've worked with him for a long time, completely trust him. He's top of the line, Bunny."

"Do I have a choice," Y/N asked softly, the answer already known.

Kate, again, gave her a small smile. "No."

That evening, after she was released from the hospital, Kate helped her back to her apartment. She was scuttling around from one window to another, checking the locks as Y/N was nestled in her chair, her body still aching. She had a tablet in her hands, reading over some of the charts of her patients. She couldn't be at work until she was fully cleared, but she still accepted the simpler cases so people wouldn't have to go to the next town over to keep their animals healthy.

"You should be resting," Kate chirped from the doorway of the kitchen. "But because I know you aren't going to listen I brought you a cup of coffee and a bagel."

Y/N gave her aunt a small smile and thanked her with a nod, taking the cup from her hands. Kate lay the plate with the bagel on the table beside her. "I wonder where I get that stubborn quality from?" Y/N joked.

"Watch yourself, smart-ass," Kate chuckled, shaking her head lightly. "But seriously, don't overdo it, kiddo. I know you want things to stay relatively normal, but you still need to take it easy, okay?"

The younger woman nodded. "I promise."

A knock at the door shattered the silence and Y/N gasped and looked to her aunt. Kate stood, her hand by her gun on her side, and walked toward the door. She glanced out of the peephole and lowered her shoulders, her hand moving from her gun to the doorknob. She opened the door and stepped outside, her voice met by another deeper one.

Y/N strained her ears to hear the conversation outside, but couldn't make out any distinct words. Kate's comfort with the person on the other side calmed her worry, so she sat back and took a bite of her bagel. When she heard two sets of footsteps enter her apartment she pretended like she didn't notice, too absorbed in her work, but in reality, she was hyper-aware of the large figure shadowing her aunt.

"Bunny," Kate's called, breaking the silence. "This is John, he's a friend of mine and a damn good soldier. He's going to be watching over you until we're sure that you're safe."

Y/N glanced up from her work at Kate before her eyes shifted over to the large man behind her. Y/N gave him a tight grin, rightfully nervous about having him in her home. He was a stranger, after all, even if Kate did vouch for him. And she knew Kate was only able to stay for a few more hours - with her important work and all.

John gave her a quick nod, his hands in his pockets. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

"Thank you for your help, John," Y/N said quietly.

John gave her a wink and it was then she noticed how absolutely blue his eyes were. "Your aunt's told me a lot about you."

Y/N smiled at him. "I wish I could say I've heard a lot about you, but Kate keeps me in the dark about most things."

John chuckled. "Sounds about right."

"Anyway," Kate cut their conversation. "The arrangement is simple - John stays with you as much as possible. Of course, you're allowed your personal space, but he needs to be within arms reach of you if you're out. And always in the apartment with you."

Y/N opened her mouth as if to say something, but her aunt held up a finger, signaling that she wasn't finished speaking. "I've spoken to the landlord of your office, Bunny. As soon as you're cleared you can go back to work, but John will be there with you."

Y/N raised a brow. "Don't you think a random guy, no offense, John, just standing in the corner of my office is going to weird out some of my patients? Make them uncomfortable?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders and frowned. "I don't care about their feelings, Bunny. I care about you staying alive."

"It's my job, Aunt Kate," Y/N sighed.

Kate nodded, coming to sit on the arm of her chair. "I understand that, but your life is more important."

Y/N bit back a retort after seeing the look on her aunt's face - she'd seen that look plenty of times and she knew no one had ever won a battle against it. She sank back against the cushions of the chair, her arms crossed over her chest like a petulant child. "Fine."

Kate squared her shoulders, a grin curling her lips. "I'm glad to see you're taking this well."

"This is well?" John piped up quietly behind her.

Kate turned slightly. "This is her being easy. You've got your work cut out for you with this one, John."

John sighed. "I've taken down entire platoons of highly trained soldiers, Kate. I think I can handle a little woman."

Kate chuckled. "You've only just met Bunny. Don't underestimate her."

"Underestimate a Laswell," John murmured with a smirk. "Never."

#call of duty #cod #john price #captain price #john price x reader #kate laswell

[littleblondesoprano]

3, 14, 33, 36, 52, 71, 100?

Ahh, thank you!! :D!!! I'm gonna put this under a readmore for length purposes!!

3: Top 3 vacation destinations?

Rome, Italy. I know it's touristy, I know, but I gotta see the ruins. Same with Athens or Crete, Greece. I have to go to New Orleans, LA, at some point, too!

14: Top 3 romantic dates?

So, the dates I've gone on haven't been good, lol, so I'll answer with the dates I'd like to go on.

Ghost hunting. Now this works as a first date or a few dates in! It's fun, it lets you see your potential partner in a fear situation, and you get to see how open/respectful they are to the more spiritual side of life. And I just really want to go ghost hunting, I've never been yet and I really want to.

Bowling! It can be romantic if you make it, plus it's really fun, and I'm unnaturally good at the claw machine game they always have there.

Dinner and a walk. Speaks for itself, can be dressed up or dressed down, and I just like goin on walks. That's romantic!

33: Top 3 things you'd buy if you gained three million dollars?

My future Victorian home. I've had dreams that I've owned one and I just love them so much. They have so much character, and the craftsmanship is so impeccable - I would love to steward one, and preserve it, and love it.

My dad's always said that when I get famous from my books I have to buy him an Aston Martin DB9. so that.

My freedom, by paying off my student loans 😅. If not that, then...fuck, either a museum quality Megalodon tooth or a me-sized, game accurate, fully working/sharpened Areondight from Witcher 3.

36: Top 3 books from your childhood?

Cirque Du Freak by Darren Shan, The Bad Beginning by Lemony Snicket, and The Complete Stories of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

52: Top 3 bad habits?

I can emotionally spiral. It doesn't happen often, but if I've been going through a rough time and I have a bad day, I tend to latch onto that bad feeling and ruminate. I sit in that so long that I start picking out other bad things that have happened and it compounds that original bad feeling until I'm really upset. Like listening to a really sad song when you're already worked up, except there's no catharsis of crying. It's just anxiety and bad thoughts until I can talk myself down or logic puzzle my way out of it.

In a similar vein, I keep my anger inside. I've been trying to work on this, but sometimes I do that horrible bottling up thing, where you store emotions away in a bottle, until the bottle shatters, and you let it all out at once. That's me with anger, specifically. I'm pretty good at tempering my other emotions and letting them out when I'm alone, but anger is one that's just hard for me to figure out, besides...going silent and keeping it in.

And I think that's because I don't want to say anything to make the situation worse, or say something I'll regret (bc I can have a mouth on me when I'm pissed). I don't have it figured out yet, but I'm trying. The sweet woman who read my birth chart mentioned that I need to be like a lava flow and let it be a constant flow of emotion instead of a volcanic eruption, which makes sense.

Anyway.

I can't really think of a third one that's super pressing - but I can still sometimes overthink and let the Anxiety take over my brain for a bit. I've learned how to calm down and stop that from happening, but I do sometimes slip.

71: Top 3 songs of this month?

Bro songs change for me by the day. But the ones I've been listening to most recently are: Enjoy Your Slay by Ice Nine Kills, I Don't Want to Change the World by Ozzy, and Rock the Night by Europe.

100: Top 3 museums you've been to?

The National Gallery in London, The Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History in DC, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NY.

#littleblondesoprano #thank you!!!

[fizzydrink698]

Ok admittedly- I only JUST read little white lies. Because I am a soft hearted coward. And hurt feelings hurts MY feelings :((

Great writing AS PER USUAL FI. My official review is that my brain fucking hurts 🤡 I don’t know what’s going on.

My small(ish) list of theories/thoughts so far is that

1. Chan likes reader. (And I think he’s doing a dumb thing like ✨ alas ✨ I cannot have the one I love so I must 😩🤙 settle. We hate to see it.)

2. ^ the above is completely thrown off by Chan being like “oh yeah my hot fiancé doesn’t find you a threat at all”. Is that because he’s given up on the reader??? Maybe she’s dumb I don’t know

3. Hyunjin can step off. I’m not pleased with him atm. Sure he’s being a nice friend occasionally, HOWEVER he’s very clearly using the reader to take a dig at Chan and it’s pissing me off because she’s!! Not privy to that!!! She doesn’t know no better!!!

4. What the fuck even happened between Chan/Hyunjin/Burberry wearing ass fiancé. There is no theory. There is only pain I experience for Chan.

5. I can’t even begin to explain to you how much the Changbin conversation confused me. Like if Chan likes the reader I would say he Clearly didn’t tell Changbin about it. In which case Why is Changbin so mad that Hyunjin is going to the wedding with the reader specifically. I’m crying what the FUCK happened.

6. I know for a fact this bitch is gonna fall for the reader (Hyunjin) so like??? If this doesn’t end in poly I genieunly have no idea what I’m gonna do with myself. Everybody should just be happy and get along 😭😭😭

Seriously though my brain is just like fucking- alphabet soup. There is no coherent thought, only my brain making the occasional unhelpful word and then back to tv static gibberish.

Also is it bad for a Hyunjin x reader fic I’m more rooting for Chan to end up with the reader than him Lmao. Im sorry Hyunjin,,, i am but a slave to my biases I can’t help it,,, You couldn’t win in instinct and you can’t win now, sorry bout it :///

In all seriousness the level of confusion I’m experiencing over What The Fuck Happened is remarkably similar to when I read the heart of darkness in school. So good job 👍 lmao. I’m confused but like… in a good way. Mystery fucking kept that’s for damn sure

- ☕️

(Actual theory btw: every problem between Hyunjin, Chan and His fiancé has got to be connected by the reader. She tops all of it in a nice little fucked up bow!!)

"my official review is that my brain fucking hurts" made me cackle more than it should have. little white lies is just that kind of fic.

1. people really seem to think chan likes reader. i can't imagine 😇 why any of you 😇😇 are getting that particular vibe? 😇😇😇

2. this is a super interesting detail, right? the fiancee's vibes are all over the place, because she really doesn't seem to view reader as a threat. but she still tagged along to the ikea trip with him and reader. but she's also super mushily in wuv with her hot aussie man, who doesn't want to spend every second they can with chan?

3. one day i'll write a simple, sweet hyunjin who is an innocent cinnamon roll with pure feelings and zero baggage and/or ulterior motives. one day.

4. i was literally pouting at this for a split-second bc my first thought was "oh. but i kinda like burberry 😔" and then i remembered i literally based chan's fiancee on the worst aspects of myself. so coffee anon, you are ridiculously accurate with that burn. chan's fiancee would love burberry.

5. changbin knows something. something to make him not entirely happy with this lil reader + hyunjin undercover detective duo thing they have going on. whatever could it beeee?

6. HA, i'm sure it's not a spoiler to say that in this hyunjin fic, hyunjin (the bitch) does fall for reader. has fallen? will fall for? the journey is interesting, i hope. and you're right, everyone should just be happy and get along. that's why if you'll turn your attention to this complicated interconnected polycule chart, you'll see--

it is not bad at all that you're rooting for chan. chan's great. there will definitely be no issues with chan. who doesn't love chan? no one, that's who. chan's great. 😇

you know, when i started writing fanfiction...believe it or not, i did not predict that one day, someone would compare it to heart of darkness. i am baffled and touched and cackling. get fucked, joseph conrad, here's your new protegee.

(reader unintentionally starting drama and causing problems is an a+ theory, and really should be applied to every fic i write)

#☕️ anon #little white lies feedback

[raysofcrosby]

PLEASE! I NEED the first chapter of that Nolan story!

here bestie <3

*this fic was originally written in first person, but i've changed it to third bc i'm slowly starting to enjoy that style more [thanks wltay lol]*

"You mean to tell me, that after complaining all day yesterday about not being able to get some kind of internship with a sports team...Burns comes out of literally nowhere and drops this news on you?" Georgia asked, stuffing another bite of her egg roll into her mouth. "It's fucking destiny."

"I'm srios," Morgan mumbled through the bite of her sweet and sour chicken. "She pulled me aside after class this morning and said, and I quote– I have a friend who works for a local sports team who asked if I knew any students who would be willing to apply for a paid internship and my first thought was you.'" She dipped another piece of chicken into her sauce and shrugged. "So I sent her my portfolio and she submitted it for me."

"Morgan, how are you not freaking out right now?" Carson gasped, almost throwing her chopsticks off towards the window. "I mean, you're just casually chewing on some chicken while talking about applying for your dream job. I'd be crying and doing my happy dance...still."

"Trust me, I cried the moment I left her office. I probably scared some freshmen waiting outside her office, but I definitely cried," She chewed on the chicken and swallowed again. "And then I realized that, hey, I might not get this job position because I'm sure hundreds of other people applied, so let's not get my hopes up just yet."

Carson slumped back into the couch and rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you're such a Capricorn."

"Oh please don't get into your astrology shit now Carson," Georgia groaned and leaned over the table to grab a fried wonton. "I really don't need you to read my chart and tell me how much of a stubborn person I am, and neither does she."

Carson leaned forward and grabbed the wonton out of her hand and taking a bite, smiling at her. "Spoken like a true Taurus."

Morgan laughed and shook her head as the two of them continued to bicker. Carson, Georgia and Morgan were roommates and have been roommates for all four years they'd been attending the University of Pennsylvania. It was funny, because none of them ever imagined that they'd be living in a dorm for three people from the very beginning. But life has an interesting way of working out and leading you to the things that you'd come to need, but never knew you would.

With the way they are around each other, you'd think that they'd been friends either their entire lives or at least half of them, but the truth? Morgan and Georgia have been friends for almost eight years after meeting their freshman year at Shattuck-St. Mary's. Though she was from Georgia (ironic, right?), she chose to attend for their prestigious bioscience program, while Morgan wanted to follow the footsteps of her older siblings...minus the whole hockey part.

They didn't meet Carson until move-in day at UPENN. She was a local girl who grew up 30 minutes away from UPENN and had always dreamed of attending. Originally, Morgan and Georgia had applied to be roommates in a double, while Carson had applied for a double as well. But housing mixed up the paperwork and the three of them ended up in a triple dorm room, and they've loved every moment of it since.

Especially as upperclassmen since their triple dorm slowly turned into a three bedroom styled apartment within their last three years.

"So have you told big brother and sister yet?" Georgia asked, taking a sip of her Pepsi.

"No, not yet. I mean, there's really nothing to tell until I get an interview or at least the job."

"I know you didn't want to ask Sidney for some pull over in Pittsburgh, but think about how cool it would be if all three Crosby siblings worked for the Pens!" Carson smiled, picking up some lo mein with her chopsticks. "You three would be my only reason for liking the Pens, otherwise I would be a social pariah to my family."

"Yeah, think about it! The three Crosby siblings all working in different departments of the Penguins organization! Sidney, obviously on the hockey front. Taylor over in Marketing or Business shenanigans, and you, Morgan Crosby, a team photographer!"

Morgan shook her head and sighed. "Yeah it'd be cool, but I don't want to work with my siblings. I want to–"

"Branch off of the Crosby family tree." Georgia interrupted, standing up from the floor.

"Forge your own path to the NHL without the family influence," Carson smiled, joining her as they headed towards her on the couch. "Yeah, we know. But think about it, you guys could become the greatest NHL family dynasty to date."

"I think to fall under that category, Tay and I would actually have to play a minute in the NHL," Morgan laughed, placing her container on their small table. "And you can't just forget about the Howe's, the Hulls, the Sedin's, hell even the Tkachuk's."

"Okay yeah, they're all great and all, but you're forgetting one important thing." Georgia said, shooting a smile over at Carson.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"That you're Morgan fucking Crosby and you take bomb ass pictures of hot ass hockey players." Carson smiled as she and Georgia jumped onto the couch and tackled her. "And that we loveeeeee youuuuu!"

They all burst into a fit of laughter as she struggled to get out from beneath them. That was another thing Morgan loved about their friendship. Whenever one of them was stressed out or down about something, the other two always knew how to lighten the mood and make it all better again. Their laughter eventually settled down as they climbed off of her and dug down into their own cushions on the couch. Morgan leaned forward towards the table and grabbed the fortune cookies, tossing one to Carson and Georgia, keeping hers in her hand.

"So, what do we think the mystic fortune cookie has to say about our futures, hm?" Georgia smiled, altering her voice to go deeper as she wiggled her eyebrows up and down. "Jackpot winner? Dean's list? Perhaps an NHL boyfriend?"

"Hey!" Carson said, sticking out her bottom lip. "Don't poke fun at my childhood diary you jerk, I shouldn't have even sent you guys those pictures of it."

"Cut it out Gia," Morgan said, nudging her with her knee. "We all know that you still think you're going to marry Dansby Swanson."

"Hey," She pointed her finger at her and kept a straight face. "Don't talk about my curly headed, hometown boy like that."

"Just saying, don't crush the hopes and dreams of 8-year-old Carson finding an NHL boyfriend when your dreams of marrying an MLB player are still alive and well."

"So does this mean we get to talk about your undying love for Geno and Tanger, orrrr?" Georgia smiled, taking another drink of her Pepsi.

Morgan tossed her fortune cookie at her and glared. "No, it does not. It was 2008 and I was 11, I grew out of that, thank you."

"Ladies, ladies, let's focus and open up these fortune cookies," Carson sighed, unwrapping hers. "I've got to finish up that paper before 10 if I want a decent night of sleep."

Georgia tossed Morgan her fortune cookie back as the three of them unwrapped the and cracked them, Morgan and Carson both tossing the shell into the bag from the Chinese Take-out, while Georgia munched on hers. "On 3?" Morgan asked.

"1."

"2."

"3."

The three of them all looked at their fortunes, Georgia being the first one to toss hers down onto her lap. "This stuff is so cheesy."

"Oh what? Can't handle the truth the cookie has to offer?" Carson scoffed, leaning forward and picking up her fortune. She cleared her throat and looked at the both of us, smiling before reading the paper. "You were reading the wrong side you dingus. Your fortune says, 'Wisdom is all around you, make sure you pay attention.' I guess the fortune cookie Gods know my astrology stuff isn't shit, huh? "

"It did not!!" Georgia scoffed, leaning over me and snatching the fortune out of her hands, flipping it over and glaring at Carson. "You liar, it says 'A short stranger will enter your life with blessings to share.' I'm sorry, but does this mean I should expect Lucky the Leprechaun to walk through that door sometime soon?"

Carson just rolled her eyes and held her own fortune up. "'You will be successful in love.'" Her voice faded off as she tossed her fortune onto the table. "Well, tell that to the tub of ben and jerry's half baked sitting in our fridge waiting to be devoured."

Georgia and Morgan shared a look, both unsure what to do. Carson's High School boyfriend had broken up with her this last summer after she had found out he cheated on her with some girl in his sister Sorority. She's gotten over him thanks to summer trips to visit Morgan at home with Georgia by her side, but still, the sting was obviously still lingering. "It's decided," Georgia said, clapping her hands. "You'll be my semester project."

"I'm not being your semester project," She picked up her lo mein and sighed. "Again, may I add. Remember Tucker from the spring semester? Yeah, look how well that worked out."

"That's not very Cancer of you," Georgia teased, sighing before waving Carson off. "Okay, so we'll wander away from the frat bros. But there's no discussion, finding you a new boo is my semester project."

"Morgan, please shut her up and read us your fortune."

Morgan just laughed and shook her head, her eyes skimming over the small piece of paper. "My fortune says, 'A dream you have will come true.'"

"That's it? That's all you're gonna say?" Georgia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Morgs. That sounds like a good sign to me," She took a bite of her lo mein and chewed, swallowing soon after. "Like some good Universe vibes about that job you submitted for?"

Morgan sighed and tossed the fortune into the empty container her dinner came in. "Like I said, I'm not getting my hopes up." She stood up and picked up her trash, heading into their small kitchen and tossing it into the trash. "I'm gonna go ahead and call it a night though. I've got some reading to do."

"Literally only a little over a month into school and I'm already over it." Georgia groaned, picking up her stuff. "Schultz has us going over some old cases already and not to mention Burns with the photography stuff. It's already overwhelming."

"I hate us all for being double majors. It's totally throwing a huge dent into our college fun." Carson chimed in as the two of them joined Morgan in the kitchen. Carson reached into the fridge, bringing out her near empty bottle of moscato. "If you need me, I'll be in my room finishing this baby off and watching Grey's...again."

"And I'll be reading on cold cases." Georgia added, heading down the short hallway to her room.

"I'll be crying into my textbooks," Morgan joked, following down the hall and standing in front of her door, which was next to Georgia's. "Goodnight besties, I love you both."

"Love ya lots!" They both called out as they walked into their respective rooms, closing the doors behind them.

When Morgan got into her room, she leaned against the door and sighed. Over her last three years of college, she'd learned to pick up on some designing tips to make her room feel more like home. Her Pittsburgh Penguins decorations on the wall closest to the closet; complete with a signed picture collage of the 2009, 2016 and 2017 Stanley Cup teams. On another wall, pictures of her friends and family, both from here and home. Some say it's hard to feel at home in a college dorm, but hers made me feel like she never left. And part of that reason was because of the two goofs she lives in between. Another part, is that her brother and sister both live five hours away in Pittsburgh– which is a nice substitute for the 16 hours away that their parents lived.

She made my way over to her desk and turned on the lamp, scanning her stack of books and picking back up reading where she had left off when Carson said it was time to go get dinner. They'd come up with a few traditions as roommates. Self-Care Sundays, where they indulged in chick-flicks, face masks and wine. Takeout Friday, where  they get Chinese takeout for dinner. And her personal favorite, Wine Wednesdays.

Hey, you can never have too much wine, okay?

Morgan flipped her book back open to the marked page and stared at the words, trying to remember where she left off at. She sighed as her phone vibrated on the desk and the screen lit up to show she had a text. She looked over at the screen to see it was from Nathan, her friend turned boyfriend, turned ex-boyfriend just five months ago. He's from the same province as her and works out with her brother in the off-season, which is how she met him. Well, technically they met when they both attended Shattuck St. Mary's together and knew of one another then– but it wasn't until he started working out with Sidney in the summer's that they started to really get to know one another.

Yeah, it's Nathan Mackinnon.

They dated for a little over two years, kind of struggling to make it work during the school year and hockey season since he played in Colorado, but the summers were their saving grace. Until one night they sat each other down and awkwardly tried to have the same exact conversation– 'I think we're better off as friends.' Totally amicable and no hard feelings left, but she'd be lying if she said neither of them were hurt about the relationship ending. They spent a long time loving each other, so obviously there would still be some hurt. She flipped her phone over and sighed. The time read 8:30. She needed to try and get this reading done before 10 o'clock at the latest, then she could get some sleep.

❒❒❒❒

Her eyes were starting to sting from reading so much, but she only had a page left and a notebook full of notes to use later on, so she had to push forward. When she finished reading the last sentence, she leaned back into my chair and stretched, taking a deep breath only for it to turn into a yawn. She closed the book in front of her and looked over at her laptop to see that it was a little past 10. Not too shabby for a deadline, but at least she reached it. She was about to close it when she noticed a (1) on her email tab. She considered just closing her computer and checking it tomorrow, but something in the back of her mind was saying to check it now. So she clicked on the tab and her inbox popped up, showing that she had an email from a Wyatt Coleman, whoever that was.

─

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝘸𝘺𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯@𝘨𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

𝐓𝐨: 𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘣𝘺@𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘯.𝘦𝘥𝘶

𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭: 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘗𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱

𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯,

𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴. 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘳 𝘉𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 10 𝘈𝘔, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵! 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 11! 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘦, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘬.

𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶!

𝘙𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴,

𝘞𝘺𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯

─

Morgan stared at her computer screen, completely in shock at what she had just read. She had literally just submitted her application THIS MORNING. And now, 12 hours later she was getting a reply to schedule an interview?

"HOLY FUCK!" She yelled, still in disbelief.

Before she knew it, her two best friends came barging into her room, Carson holding the empty bottle of wine and Georgia holding a heavy textbook, both of them raised as weapons. They looked around the room and Georgia sighed. "Listen, it's 10PM, you can't just scream like that."

"I got an email?"

Carson lowered her wine bottle. "I get a little frustrated at the spam of emails Penn sends me too, but I don't scream about them."

"No, I got the email," Morgan turned her laptop towards them and waved at it. "The internship email. They want to schedule and interview on Sunday...with me."

They both came closer and leaned over to her laptop, their eyes reading the screen. Georgia was the first one to break into a smile, Carson falling closer behind her. "I told you they'd want you, you immensely talented human, you." Carson squealed, leaning over Georgia and wrapping her in a hug.

"I guess it's true, being ridiculously talented is in the damn Crosby genes." Georgia laughed, joining in on the hug. "You are going to email him back, right?"

"Um, duh! Just as soon as you two leave my room. Then I'll shoot a text back to Nathan and then Sid and Taylor."

The two of them pulled away and shared a look. "Nathan, huh?"

"Oh piss off and leave my room." Morgan waved, clicking reply onto the email and typing up a formal reply. "Night losers."

They shut the door just as she finished typing up her reply, reading over it and finally pressing send. She let out a breath that she didn't even know she was holding and smiled. "Hell yeah."

#anon #answered #end game fic

[rodeoxqueen]

Ever since I got this idea I haven't been able to stop thinking about Dante being a stripper cowboy 😳😳 Maybe smol shy S/O was dragged by her friends into a strip club when she caught the attention the attention of a certain red devil? 👀🌹 I have a mighty need for some Dante erotica, I'm sorry 😅

Howdy Howdy,

Partner, there’s no need to apologize. If anything, I’m sorry this request was sitting in my inbox for more than a week. I was watching as many male stripper movies as I could find to make this accurate. Here’s a fully written work to make up for the wait. 

Part II is in the making, I couldn’t fit all that raunchiness into one chapter. For my male and gender-neutral readers, I’ll do my best to write inclusive installments that make you feel sexy and well-loved by this stripper cowboy. All readers deserve a lap dance.

Yours,

Rodeo 

Can You Touch This?-Cowboy!Stripper! Dante/Reader-(PART I)(AFAB! READER)

Tags/Warnings: 18+, AFAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Magic Mike!Au, Erotica, Minors Do Not Try It.

Read It On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256070/chapters/69242487

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 own 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 clearly 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 heels. 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 lady. 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 girl 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, 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 own 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, ladies.” 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, pretty girl?” 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, lil lady.” 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 own 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 really 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 lady 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 girlie, 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 purse, 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 purse weighed the heaviest on your mind. 

High heels 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. 

#dante x reader #dante imagine #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry #stripper!dante

[kookxin]

HUMAN¹; jjk

°§°

Pair¬ jungkook×she

Genre¬ angst, fluff, romance, cyborg!au

Synopsis¬ how would you feel, when you learn that the most vital organs of your body aren't organs, but machines?

Words¬ 1.5k

A/N: read HUMAN²; jjk as a sequel with this oneshot as the base story.

°§°

"No!"

"Jungkook! Listen to me—"

"No!" he cries out once more, sliding down against the wall, curling up and breaking into heart-wrenching sobs.

"I-I'm— I-" his voice cracks in between, and he finally gives up talking, crying his heart out. He hides his face behind the palms of his hands, wanting to escape the vision of the cruel world.

Her heart breaks into a million shards watching him break down like this.

It had been a mistake, her mistake, to let him go out of the safety of the house, their home, even for a measly thing as groceries.

No, she shouldn't have let him out. It is solely her fault for letting him out, when she knew how bad it would hurt him, no- shatter him, if he heard the truth.

The world didn't care how he would feel; it would rather watch him break down, and enjoy it.

Just because he's a cyborg.

It has been around 6 years or so, since the first cyborg was created. It had been an experiment to prolong human life, to give it a second chance. A study conducted way back had shown that around 17.9 million deaths around the world were caused by CVD (cardiovascular diseases), covering a good 80% in the charts which showed the annual death and causes of it.

What was needed was a change. Anything organic was to decay, so, the change had to be mechanic in nature.

Eventually, the invention of the mechanical heart was done, followed by the invention of the mechanical brain.

The heart was a full, complete organ, which worked exactly like the human heart, the difference being it was a machine. Whereas, the brain was a small chip, a software of sorts, which was to be attached to the back of the neck of the being, just over the spinal cord.

To experiment with the potential of the efficiency of these, and to test their work, these were installed into lab-produced human bodies (save for biological hearts). These cyborgs were then readied to be taken wherever by the doctors and volunteers who worked under the same company.

Years after the success of these mechanical organs, the cyborgs were set free to live there own life, with or without their guardians. Despite this, there wasn't a dearth in the number of people who refused to accept the cyborgs into the society, picking and bullying on them, and deeming them lower than the humans.

It was hilarious yet heartbreaking, considering that the humans who purchased and got the mechanical organs transplanted were considered wealthy and upperclassmen, just because they had had the fortune to be developed in an actual womb.

"I'm inhuman," she hears him breath out, defeated, "just a machine." He sobs out. All those days with her, he had never really thought about what his life was, before her. Now he knows, he never did because he did not exist, before her. The thought breaks him even more.

Every time he went out with her, to her work, the Lab, he would wonder as to why she really even needed to visit the place, given the fact that she had a perfectly personalized laboratory back at home in the basement. Yet, he would revel in the company of the cyborgs there, he thought, who were homeless but temporarily sheltered there. Though, now he knows why he felt a certain connection to them.

"Just a machine..." he sounds quashed, crushed; he is, since the moment that nasty, hateful cashier had snapped at him condescendingly, and cursed at him for being who he really is, at the supermarket. 'Just a machine', he'd claimed. Although she can't feel the limit of his pain, she has a heart-crushing idea of it. Imagine finding out that you aren't what you believed you were your entire life, you knew you were. Imagine finding out, that your heart you felt happiness, sadness, empathy with, loved with, isn't it; it is a mere machine, just to keep you running.

But, she knows he isn't.

"You're wrong."

He pauses, trying to keep his hiccups, tears cascading down his plump cheeks, to listen to her; she was, and is his reason to go on. Always will be.

He sniffs, brows downing towards his eyes in puzzlement.

"You are wrong. You are so, so much more than that. You are my soul friend, the sweet person I turn to whenever I need support, company, love. You're my muse, and my reason to do better; my reason to even do, at all. You are the person who has done nothing, but give and give, offered love to every passing creature. You are my reason, my source to perfect euphoria. Without you, I am a mere shell of a girl, Jungkook,", her little nimble fingers gently dance across his damp cheeks, wiping away his tears, and trying to erase away his sorrows too.

His eyes flutter shut and the feel of her breath, so close to him, and the soft, yet precious words; his newly formed tears meet with her fingers, and so she leans in to connect her forehead with his.

"I love you, Koo, so much, with my whole life," her unoccupied hand finds his, takes it in it's grip, and brings it to his chest, resting these over where his heart is situated, "and therefore, I gave you mine."

It is this moment that everything stills, and his breathing, and hers, are the only things audible. Her palm that still rests above his, presses his hand further onto his, and he receives the lively vibrations of a beating heart right there. His expression grows distant as he focuses on the beats inside of him, those that he thought would never be his. Strange, that a few hours ago, he had been cruelly told the truth of his existence, and yet here he is, feeling a continuous series of heartbeats under his skin. 

Ecstasy floods his being in a form of tranquil warmth, and his unfocused orbs of sight trace their way back to meet hers, growing wider with bewilderment. Sure, he is joyous at the fact of possessing that one biological instrument that condemns oneself as alive, yet he can't help but calculate and evaluate this fact; it is how his brain was programmed, being empathetic and perceptive, yet perspicacious and analytical. His lips curve down the slightest.

He studies her, watches her every shifting expression. She is smiling wide, from ear to ear, ever so radiant, and her glossy eyes express glee, yet there goes a flicker, almost indecipherable. His brows fall into a frown once again.

"...How?"

The growing pool of tears in her eyes, finally breaks, letting these cascade freely down her cheeks. She closes the little distance between them, and places a kiss on his lips, so gentle and fondly. It feels like a promise that she seals with it, an eternal one, but he has yet to find out what it is.

She breaks away daintily, compelling him to open his eyes back again.

"I told you, Koo, I gave you my heart, you have it," she whispers, then chuckles breathily, "it's just that I took yours without your permission."

His eyes blow wide with disbelief and horror, and she immediately shakes her head.

"No, Koo—"

"Your heart—m-me?! What—do you mean—"

She nods, the smile still gracing her lips, and then cups his face delicately.

"Mhm, you are a real human being, with a very real heart," she wipes away a lone tear of his, "don't you ever dare say you are worthless again. Get that?"

It really doesn't take him long to get where she comes from. A surgery, that's where. He doesn't know when, but at the moment, he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, and keep her closest to him. He does just that.

He cries into her neck; he doesn't particularly know why, whether it's because of his elation to have been deemed worthy of having, possessing her heart, or for that sorrowful fact, that he took it away from her.

"You remember the yearly medical checkup at the Lab I take you to on your birthdays? I had it decided Koo, to gift you my heart," she chuckled breathily, as he clutched onto her tighter, "that was the day you came into it's possession, really and technically."

It had been a difficult procedure, getting the doctors actually convinced, to perform the transplant, ignoring it's little shortcomings, sedating him for the operation, and then lying to him about the reasons for staying there for a few days after.

But it was all worth it. It always will be as long as he's happy.

She has his heart now, and although it's mechanical, she treasures it dearly, because it's his.

He sniffles again, leaning back to look at her.

"W-why?"

She grins softly, leaning in to kiss his forehead lovingly.

"I told you Koo, I love you. My heart has been yours since the very moment I had met you."

°§°

All rights reserved ©

Do not copy storyline.

¬ Hajinꨄ︎

#bts #oneshot #bts jk #jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #angst with a happy ending #bts angst #cyborg #bts au #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jjk scenarios #bts jjk

[cocomaxley]

Something New

This is my submission for this week's @wackydrabbles. This week’s prompt is “I’m your [friend, spouse, partner, etc] of course I care.”

Summary: Baz has a crush, but isn't sure if she feels the same.

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Baz x Sienna

Word Count: 871

Thanks to @ao719 for pre-reading! 💜🖤💜🖤

Baz, Lexi, and Bryce sat in the cafeteria eating lunch. Baz froze mid bite when Sienna approached the group. This did not go unnoticed by the other two doctors. Bryce nudged Lexi, nodding his head at their friend.

Lexi called out, “Hey, Sienna, come join us for lunch!”

Sienna shook her head. “I have to walk and eat. Mitch called in sick today. I’ll see you guys later at Donahue’s.”

Lexi flashed Baz a mischievous grin. “If I didn’t know any better, Dr. Lahela, I’d think that Dr. Mirani has a little crush…”

This pulled Baz from his stupor. His cheeks flushing harder. “I do. I think she’s the nicest person and so so so cute.”

Bryce clapped his shoulder. “Then ask her out. You two would leave a trail of rainbows and glitter behind you as you skipped down the halls holding hands.”

He shook his head. “She’s been so upset since Danny passed away. I figured she needed time. Plus, I’m super scared. What if she says no? I’d still have to see her every day.”

Lexi looked at him thoughtfully. “They weren’t dating per se. After she broke up with that loser boyfriend of hers, she needed time to be single. You’ll never know if you don’t ask her.” Then her face lit up. “You want me to ask her for you? I totally would do that.”

“Dear God, please don’t!”

Later that afternoon, Baz whistled as he walked towards Dr. Ramsey’s office. When he turned the corner, he noticed Sienna at the far end of the hall with her back towards him. Her head was down. His face fell when he realized that she was quietly crying.

He approached her. “Hey, Sienna, are you alright?”

She wiped her tears, plastering a fake smile on her face. “Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

Her lower lip betrayed her as it trembled, her eyes once again filling with tears. Baz didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug.

“What’s wrong? If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand, but I’m here if you need me.”

At that same moment, Lexi and Bryce were leaving the locker room with smiles on their faces. They adjusted their clothing to make sure that no one knew about their afternoon escapade. He noticed Baz holding Sienna at the other end of the hallway. He flashed him a thumbs up. Baz shook his head trying to let his friends know that it was not the time for jokes. He knew deep down that wouldn’t stop them from whatever they were about to do.

Lexi bent over, pretending to slap her own butt while Bryce stood behind her thrusting his hips. Ethan exited his office, reading a patient chart in his hand when the pair caught his attention. His lips formed a thin line.

He barked at them, “why do I always see you two acting like idiots?”

They abruptly stopped what they were doing. Baz grinned watching them get scolded by the tenured doctor.

Lexi cleared her throat, straightening her jacket. “Ethan, we were…”

“We were making fun of Baz.” Bryce explained.

Ethan shook his head. “You are doctors, show some decency...at least pretend to be mature adults.”

Lexi saluted at him as he continued to walk down the hall. “You got it, Dr. Ramsey. Won’t happen again.”

“Until next time…” Bryce said quietly as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders leading her in the opposite direction.

Sienna pulled away from Baz. “Thanks, I needed a hug like that. I’ve been so sad since Danny and Bobby died. It's sweet that you care.”

“I'm your friend, of course I care.” He wiped a tear that rolled down her cheek. “I’m here to give hugs anytime you need them. I love giving hugs...and I’d...like to give you more hugs...”

He groaned after he heard the words that came out of his mouth. Way to sound creepy, man.

Sienna looked up at him both confused and amused. “You would?”

“Yeah, well...the thing is...I…” He cleared his throat trying to muster up as much courage as he could. “Yes, I would. I like you, Sienna. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I know Danny’s death has been hard on you. I didn’t want to be an opportunistic jerk and ask you out while you’re still in mourning.”

“Baz…”

“I get if you’re not ready or don’t feel the same way. It’s ok.” He took a couple of steps away from her, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“That’s very sweet. If you ever decide to ask me out, the answer would be yes.” She took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze before walking away.

It took a few moments before her words registered in his mind. Then his face lit up. He bolted after her.

“Wait! Sienna, wait!”

He finally caught up to her. He held up his finger as he doubled over, out of breath. “You’ll go out with me?”

She nodded her head, biting her lip.

“How about we ditch Donahue’s tonight and go to dinner after shift is over?”

She smiled widely as she replied, “I’d love to.”

********

Sucks to be my friend tag list: @ao719 @emichelle @the-soot-sprite @zaffrenotes @burnsoslow @annekebbphotography @loveellamae @aestheticartsx @mfackenthal @flyawayboo @princess-geek @poorchoicesplayer @rookie-ramsey @dcbbw @speedyoperarascalparty

#wackydrabbles #wacky drabbles #wackydrabbles prompt #baz x sienna #choices: open heart #open heart #oph #oph 2 #oph2 #bryce x mc #choices baz #choices sienna #choices bryce

[renasrouge]

A Student Seating Shipping Planning Session

read on ao3

summary: in which miss bustier is a shipper who just wants her otp to be canon, and she’s willing to recruit her colleagues to do it.

word count: 1311

a/n: this is the first fanfic i wrote from over a year ago, so i figure it should be the first that i post on here too. just a warning, it’s not meant to be realistic, and the genre leans heavily toward crack. hope you enjoy!!

“Welcome to the first student seating planning session of the school year,” Miss Bustier announces cheerfully as the screen behind her illuminates in a full-screen presentation. “Let us begin!”

Ms. Mendeleiev and Mr. D'Argencourt stare back at her with blank faces. Miss Bustier guesses they’re a bit upset that she called them for a teacher meeting so early in the morning.

Mr. D’Argencourt slowly raises a hand. “Excuse me, but why am I here for this?”

“Essentially,” Ms. Bustier starts, “I know that all of us have been taking our student... pairings into strong consideration for a few months, and I know it's not necessarily in our job descriptions, but we need to talk about our students.”

Ms. Mendeleiev takes this pause as a cue to slam her fists on the table. “These teenagers have too many personal problems and absolutely no regard for lab safety. No respect for their educators! Just this last Wednesday, I found Alya Césaire blogging during my lecture. Blogging! Those uncultivated 21st century children... and don't even get me started on Alix and Kim, always betting in my class! Caline, you've had the same issues, correct?”

But Miss Bustier is already far gone, plotting ways to make DJWifi a reality.

“Caline!”

Miss Bustier snaps out of her reverie and realizes that she still needs to start the meeting. “Sorry. Yes. The shipping fates of our students are a matter to all of us, so I think we should start with the first topic. First, you two are strong student shippers, correct?”

Silence.

“I'm sorry, shippers?” Mr. D'Argencourt asks.

Miss Bustier gapes at her coworkers' ignorance. “People who ship.”

This time, Ms. Mendeleiev jumps in, continuing her rant from earlier. “Those pesky kids still have no regard for lab safety and listen to that sickening music during my class—”

Miss Bustier sighs, wondering why she even bothered with this. “Shipping. Ships. Pairing students.”

Mr. D'Argencourt strokes his mustache with the tip of his fencing epee (which he had brought to the meeting despite multiple glares of disapproval). There’s a pregnant pause as Miss Bustier waits for him to catch up.

"I still do not see... ”

As a last resort, Miss Bustier swipes the remote from the table. She absent-mindedly flips through the presentation slides, scrolling past the seating charts of every class in the school. She stops on one particular class with too many ships for its own good and draws a line with her finger, linking the yearbook photos of a sweet pigtailed girl and a blond boy with green eyes.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste,” she says. “This is a ship.”

The recognition on Ms. Mendeleiev and Mr. D'Argencourt's faces is instant.

“Those two!” Ms. Mendeleiev shrieks, and Miss Bustier swears that the dogs across the street start to bark at the sound. “Always late for everything and going to the bathroom just when I'm about to reach the climax of my lecture! The ungrateful hooligans—”

"My star fencing student!” Mr. D'Argencourt jumps at the same time. “And... some other girl.” He tilts his head so that it rests on the epee's handle. “They may make a good couple.”

Miss Bustier feels like crying tears of joy. At least the PE teacher isn't a lost cause.

“Yes, yes, Armand! Look, they're right here—”

Miss Bustier trips over her words as she flips through the rest of her slides, finding one that she snapped in literature class last week. Adrien is sitting in his usual seat, diligently scribbling at his desk. Behind him, Marinette is gazing longingly at the back of his head. While Miss Bustier supposes that she should have reprimanded Marinette for daydreaming in class, it was such a golden ship moment that she couldn't disturb the peace.

"This is Adrinette,” Miss Bustier explains. “Marinette has a hopeless crush on Adrien—the entire school can confirm it—and from this picture that I took from the courtyard window, he likes her back at least a little.

“This is Adrien writing some sort of letter—a confession letter, maybe?—in class on Valentine's Day, and this is Marinette falling onto him on the school's front steps. She's a little clumsy, but I think Adrien finds it endearing. My point is that it’s our responsibility as teachers to advance this ship to its full potential, and—”

Miss Bustier has Ms. Mendeleiev's interest now. “So, Caline, you're proposing that if we move around the seating so that Marinette and Adrien are together, Miss Dupain-Cheng will be motivated to come on-time to class to see Mr. Agreste? And my teaching will be interrupted less often?”

“Well, I guess that would be a bonus, but we should have them sit next to each other to let Adrien realize his feelings for Marinette and fulfill one of many ships in the class.”

There's silence once more.

“Many? So there are other... ships?” Mr. D'Argencourt twirls his epee in one hand, and Miss Bustier resists the urge to confiscate it.

Focus on the ships. Focus on the ships.

“Yes, of course. Let me draw them out.”

Miss Bustier flips back to the seating charts and begins to connect the pictures.

"Here, you have Alya and Nino, DJWifi. Alya manages the Ladyblog and Nino is an aspiring DJ and filmmaker—you can see how they would help each other out in the future and be a media-savvy power couple, and they both even wear glasses—”

Ms. Mendeleiev stares.

"—and over here there's Alix and Kim, who sit diagonal, or alternately Kim and Max, which is a pretty good ship too, except Kim apparently liked Chloé back in February, which we can hope he got over, since that would invalidate both of the possible ships, and then right behind them there's Juleka and Rose—also a bit of a problem since Rose has shown clear interest in Ali, but she’d better get over it because Julerose is so cute—and, oh, Mylène and Ivan sit way too far away in class—”

Mr. D'Argencourt slowly shifts away.

"—but right now the only good thing we've got going on the whole right side of the seating chart is that Nathanael is far, far away from society where he can impact the golden beauty that is Adrinette, and we have to make sure that he doesn't move up behind Marinette, or my secondary OTP will in sincere danger, and there's the problem of how to put Chloé farther from Adrien, and Ivan closer to Mylène, and Alya where she can actually talk to Nino, and Nathanael preferably even farther away from Marinette, and Sabrina who-knows-where—I mean, we could ship her with Max, but I'm not sure how they would interact considering the current seating—and just augh! We need a new seating chart to promote my ships! Now! I can’t do this anymore!”

Ms. Mendeleiev and Mr. D'Argencourt sit in silence, watching as Miss Bustier catches her breath.

“Caline…” Ms. Mendeleiev starts softly.

“Ladynoir!” Miss Bustier wails, dropping to her knees on the meeting room carpet. “My OTP! There hasn't been an akuma attack in weeks!”

By now, she's sobbing, and Ms. Mendeleiev cautiously places a hand on the literature teacher's shoulder.

"I'm—I’m facing separation anxiety,” Miss Bustier admits between cries. “I spent f—f—five hours sorting ships for my classes yesterday night! The Ladynoir fandom is inactive!”

"Is there... anything we can do to help?” Ms. Mendeleiev says hesitantly as Mr. D'Argencourt backs away.

"Thank you, Silvia, but I'll... I’ll be fine.”

Miss Bustier collects herself, swallowing her tears and climbing into a standing position. Mortified, she realizes that she’s just completely embarrassed herself in front of her colleagues. In one swift motion, Miss Bustier swings her purse over her shoulder and yanks her laptop from the projector monitor, striding away down the hallway as quickly as possible.

She supposes it's time to calm her nerves and read some more Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #mlfanficion #ml fanfic #caline bustier #adrienette #ladynoir #my fics #meva writes

[wilberdojo]

The Battle Wits Can’t Win

Based off of this post by @enygmass  (Please read that first so you don’t go into this story blind.)

Warnings: Angst, cancer, depression, self-starvation, self-injury, death.

This story is pretty depressing and caused me to cry multiple times while writing and editing it. As such, I’d really like to thank my test reader @jrae2015 for powering through it to make sure there weren’t any errors I may have missed.

While he had always hated hospitals, now they were nothing short of unbearable to him. The walls were blindingly white as he walked down the corridor, thinking of how quickly the events had transpired. Edward Nygma had called him, voice shaking, terrified and on the verge of crying. He told him where to go, and Jonathan Crane did not hesitate to oblige. That's what brought him here. He could hardly even remember the drive.

The door was open. He thought it strange that police weren't there to guard the obvious villain in the hospital. He heard a sob break the atmosphere of coughing and beeping machines. The only reason he even paid attention to the small sound was because it came from Edward’s room.

Edward was not much for crying. Sure, he did it, as all people do, but never publicly if he could avoid it. Something had to have happened to make him cry as openly as this. The question was what?

Jonathan didn't ask, he simply walked in and looked over his chart. He recognized the words from his studies and quickly figured out the meaning.

Edward Nygma had brain cancer, and this time, there were no Lazarus Pits to save him.

The news hit Jonathan hard, like a ton of bricks smashing into him all at once. He felt lightheaded, yet hypersensitive. His stomach felt bottomless, yet in his throat. He felt sick, even though it wasn't his own diagnosis. He looked up, and his eyes met the red, tearful, droopy eyes of the Riddler, now at the mercy of what will be his deteriorating brain.

Jonathan put the clipboard back and sat down in a chair beside him.

“I'm here,” were the only words muttered between them. “I'm here…”

There was a knock at the door, pulling Edward away from his book to look into the eyes of Jonathan Crane, ones that were no longer cold and uncaring, yet still carried a sharp softness to them.

“Riddle me this. What's in my pocket?”

Edward rolled his eyes.

“You know that's not a real riddle. It's a question, not a riddle.”

“Well, your saying sounds much better than ‘Question me this.’”

“Touché.”

They both chuckled lightly as Jonathan made his way into the room, pulling a piece of candy from his pocket and handing it to the genius.

“You're spoiling me, Jon.”

“You were already spoiled.”

Jonathan sat down beside his friend.

“You don't have to stay.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“Yet you choose to stay in a hospital, a building that, if I remember correctly, you despise.”

“You do remember correctly.”

“Then why?”

“You think yourself not enough reason for me to stay?”

Edward opened his mouth to say something but found himself speechless from the last remark. He had to think on that. He had to do much more thinking lately. His mind was slow, and his remarks slower. Jonathan had noticed, he was certain.

“Was that a compliment?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

There was a short silence. Edward returned to his book, and Jonathan pulled out his own to read.

“‘Soon again I heard the tapping, somewhat louder than before.’”

“The Raven, Edgar Allen Poe.”

“‘There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something… You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.’”

“The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien.”

“‘It is my belief… That the truth is generally preferable to lies.’”

A moment of silence.

“Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire, J. K. Rowling.”

“‘Life is much more successfully looked at from a single window.’”

A longer silence.

“I'm… I'm not sure.”

There was a sense of urgency, of fear in his voice. Jonathan can always pinpoint fear.

“The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald.”

“I'm forgetting…”

“Everyone forgets books they haven't read in years.”

“Not me…”

When Jonathan came to the room, the door was closed and a doctor was standing guard. The doctor gave him a look, and Jonathan realized immediately what was going on.

It took a few minutes before they left, sure that Edward was going to be alright. Jonathan walked in and sat beside him, as always, and put a hand over Edward’s shaking one. Edward wasn't conscious, but his body was weak, tired, and unable to rest.

He woke up a couple hours later, Jonathan reading a book and still holding his hand. Edward rolled onto his back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. You?”

“Afraid.”

Edward looked at his friend, who had put the book down and had attention focused on him.

“You're never afraid.”

“I am, for you.”

“You don't need to be. It was just a nap.”

“I've been here since they were helping you through the seizure. Don't lie to me, Edward.”

Edward went silent, then looked away from his friend.

“I have every right to be afraid, and honestly I am terrified.”

“I finally scared the scarecrow.”

Jonathan opened his mouth to yell but stopped himself. He wanted to scream at him for making jokes at a time like this, but Jonathan knew that was how he coped. He held his tongue and mustered up a different response.

“Another impossibility made possible by the mighty Riddler.”

The staff was afraid to enter the room. They knew for certain that neither Edward Nygma or Jonathan Crane had eaten for three days. Jonathan refused to leave until Edward woke up, and that meant for anything. They had switched out Edward's IV to accommodate for the lack of nutrition, but they weren't sure what to do for Jonathan. They had an idea but weren't certain it would work.

When the nurse came in with two trays, Jonathan lifted an eyebrow.

“This is a single room.”

“I know. The second tray is for you.”

The nurse handed him the tray and he eyed it suspiciously.

“Eat. We know you haven't for days. It's complimentary.”

There was a moment of silence between them as she set the tray on a small stand for Edward, in case he woke up soon.

“Thank you.”

The nurse blinked in surprise, then smiled as she nodded at him. Jonathan began to eat once she had left the room.

Edward’s mental deterioration was at a one-to-one ratio for Jonathan’s physical deterioration. Jonathan was now a full-time resident of Gotham General Hospital and stayed permanently in the chair beside Edward. He was weaker from the lack of exercise and sleepless nights and would have days where he wouldn't eat.

Edward would have episodes of sleeping days on end, and Jonathan, in turn, would not leave for anything and refused to sleep, prompting nurses to advise him rest and bring him food. Edward was slowly forgetting how he used to speak with Jonathan, his mental dictionary slowly being ripped away, page after page.

What scared Jonathan most, however, were the seizures. He had witnessed three already this month, each stronger than the last.

It had gotten to the point he'd just deal with it himself before paging the nurse, turning Edward on his side and gently holding his spazzing hand, whispering sweet nothings to hopefully relax him as he rode it out. After each one, Edward would regain consciousness long enough to say he was awake, and that he was going to take a nap.

The last nap lasted twenty-four hours.

The worst part was, Jonathan knew this was only the beginning.

When Jonathan returned from the cafe, Edward was crying. This wasn't an abnormal sight, but it still hurt Jonathan to see him like this. There was nothing he could do to help, and he knew it. The Riddler had fallen, and there was no rope long enough to help him back up. He walked over and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don't touch me!”

Jonathan flinched, stepping back.

“This is all your fault! You should have done something, Jon! Why didn't you do something?!”

Jonathan said nothing, staying silent as Edward reared up more.

“You're a doctor! You should have been able to tell! You should have been able to prevent this! What, do you hate me? Did you want me to die, Jon?”

“I never wanted that…”

“Then why didn't you do something?”

Edward’s tone had softened to one of fear and sadness. Jonathan understood why. For a moment, they sat in silence. After a few minutes, Edward spoke up.

“Jon?”

“Hm?”

“I'm sorry…”

Jonathan sighed.

“Me too…”

Edward had been staring at Jonathan for an uncomfortably long time, but Jonathan said nothing, simply holding Edward’s hand and rubbing the back of it with a circling thumb. Edward’s mind was going more and more each passing day, and Jonathan was terrified. Edward could no longer solve riddles, not even simple ones. For most; the vocabulary was lost on him. Edward had forgotten his past, who his father was, what he was like, to which Jonathan had simply told him, “He was a bad man.”

Edward was now staring at Jonathan the way he stared at the riddle book; confused and forgetful.

“What's wrong?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“I don't remember meeting you. I remember us being friends, but I don't remember meeting you.”

Jonathan frowned. He knew it'd happen eventually, but not yet. Years of his life were being chipped away, one memory at a time, and he was helpless to it. Jonathan wished he could help, but the memory wouldn't last.

“We had to have met to become friends.”

“Well, yeah. Of course. I just can't remember it.”

Jonathan was stoic in front of his friend, but that isn't to say that was his common state of being. He would go to sit in his truck before having his outbursts of rage and hopelessness. He'd cry and punch the wheel, coming back with his cheeks puffy and hands bruised. Edward knew what he was doing, but couldn't find words enough to comfort him. Words were nearly completely lost to him. There wasn't much he could say any more. His vocabulary was now limited to mostly ten words. None of them, he regretted, were his friend’s name.

Jonathan looked at him. He could tell he wanted to say something but couldn't figure it out. That was something he really hated. The Riddler always knew what he wanted to say. This wasn't right, not at all. The least this monster infection could have done was leave his friend able to speak.

Edward stared at Jonathan with pleading eyes and weakly lifted his hand, which Jonathan took. He felt Edward write on the back of his hand with a finger, the only way he could say what he wanted to say.

You need sleep.

“I'm alright.”

You need help.

“I'll handle it. You should get some rest.”

Edward frowned. He could always tell when Jonathan was lying. Now was no exception.

Edward could no longer move that so-crucial finger that helped them communicate beyond the failure of his lips. He’d look dead if it weren't for the tear-filled eyes staring at the ceiling. Jonathan rubbed the back of his hand with a thumb, staring hopelessly at the ground. It wouldn't take much longer now, and they both knew it. It was only a matter of time.

A time neither were wanting to come.

When it ended, it was sudden. Jonathan was talking to Edward, mentioning poets he had loved and muttering their writings to him. He froze mid-word when the ECG flatlined. He pressed the call button before he had even realized it, and stood over Edward, staring into his green eyes that unblinkingly gazed at the ceiling. He was doing compressions already when the doctors arrived.

The world seemed to slow. He watched the doctors take over. He listened to the charging of the defibrillator and then watched Edward arch at the release of electricity into his body. The world felt fake. It was as if he was the only living person viewing a movie from the center. It was a horror movie, one he couldn't escape. One Edward couldn't escape. The doctors raised the voltage and tried again. However, Edward never took another breath. He had lost to the battle wits can't win.

Jonathan was famous for being stoic, but few thought he would keep this mask on the day of the public funeral. Police came to calm the crowds of people in green but promised to leave villains paying respects alone. Jonathan was in black, a straight face, more resembling a grim reaper than a scarecrow, and came to the casket’s side. As he looked down at the frozen face of his dear friend, he felt ill. He felt fake. The world was frozen and nothing existed.

Selina Kyle had seen Jonathan collapse and slowly helped him to his seat. She didn't have to ask to know he hadn't slept in far too long. He wouldn't have responded anyway. She looked at his hands, blood seeping through the bandages from where he had cut himself smashing all his liqueur bottles, and smelled heavily of the smoke from burning all the cartons of cigarettes he owned.

Edward had always complained of Jonathan’s unhealthy habits. It pained, no, angered him to keep their advocates in his house any longer. Jonathan only wished Edward was alive to see this turn of habits.

Jonathan rose and went to the podium with a prepared speech when he was asked to say a few words. He looked over the crowd, then back at the paper on the podium. Suddenly, he was a professor again, only this time teaching the life of his dear friend to his audience of villains, civilians, and law enforcement. He only got a third of the way through before everything melted away, and Jonathan had trailed off into silence. He stared at the casket. How had this happened? What more could he have done? There was so much wrong with the world. Could he have made it right?

Jonathan was not much for crying. Sure, he did it, as all people do, but never publicly if he could avoid it. Something had to have happened to make him cry as openly as this. The death of the Riddler was more than enough.

Selina stood and escorted him back to his seat as Oswald rose to finish Jonathan’s speech for him. Jonathan was angry and confused, just as much as he was devastated. Selina was unable to calm him.

Once the service ended, Jonathan returned to his truck alone. He sat in the driver’s seat and stared blankly at the wheel. It all seemed fake. All of this. Was this another master plan of the Riddler’s? One set to clear his name so he could retire? No. Jonathan would have known if it was. Edward wouldn't have put him through this. He wouldn't have forced him to watch his closest friend die if he, himself, wasn't afraid. Jonathan had been his comfort the past year and a half, as the man slowly drifted into the abyss. Jonathan missed him greatly, and that was a fact he couldn't deny. How could he deny it when he was driving to one of Edward’s old traps just to get a vision of the Riddler one last time?

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