#currently eating peanut butter off a spoon straight from the jar as i wait

[confusionmeisss]

wanted to make myself some blts, but thought we didn’t have any bread so i was sad, but then i discovered some in the freezer :)

but now i have to let the bread defrost (?) dethaw (?) unfreeze (?) what word do i use here?????? idk i gotta wait for bread to be soft. there.

[greatshell-rider]

Jerry leaned against the open doorway to Lani’s room. “Hey, I killed a guy in the back alley.”

His sister sat hunched over her desk, a lamp pooling light around her head as she scribbled rapidly on a notepad with one hand and flipped quickly through a thick book with the other. Jerry was hardly surprised to find her still awake; it was only an hour or two past midnight. “Cool,” she said without looking up. “Put it over there.”

She didn’t gesture towards a “there”, so Jerry lugged the guy’s corpse into the room and dropped it against the far wall with the window. After a second’s hesitation, he cracked the window open. He didn’t know how soon Lani would get to the body, and while she might not care about a stench, he had to live with her.

“Didn’t think Dalpho would act so soon,” Lani commented as Jerry made to leave. He slowed and she continued, “Might throw a wrench in our current plan.” He saw a smile curve up her cheek at that.

Oh no. No. “Wasn’t Dalpho,” he said hurriedly. “Just some crook jumped me wanting my purse.” He scowled, flexing his hands and feeling the blood drying on them. “Tried to warn him off with my sword, but he was determined.”

“Or desperate. Don’t you ever spare a thought for all those poor souls out there? The whole city’s starving, Jerr-Bear, and you only think of yourself. Tsk.”

Clenching his jaw, Jerry reminded himself of the resolution he’d made this morning: No responding to Lani’s taunts. If he succeeded, he’d promised himself a spoonful of peanut butter (or the closest approximation to it this ’scape could produce) as a reward.

It is not worth it, he told himself. He took a deep breath and walked toward the door.

“It’s funny,” she mused idly, “how this keeps happening. Whenever I get jumped, we’re all friends by the end. But for some reason, showing off your pretty blade always makes things worse. What’s up with that?”

He threw a dirty look over his shoulder, opening his mouth to remind her how her “friends” always ended up. But he saw her smirk, recognized that glint of honed mirth in her eyes, and forcibly swallowed the retort.

“Shut up,” he growled, and slammed the door shut behind him.

She snickered behind the wood, and Jerry nearly turned right back around to tear the door off the hinges and smash it over her stupid head. He stood before it, hands clenching and unclenching, anger radiating through his body so painfully he had to bite down on his tongue so as to not scream. He’d just killed a man and, as always, his sister. Didn’t. Care. So why did he?

Spoonful of peanut butter, Jerr-Bear.

Jerry forced one lungful of air in, then out, then in, then out. He drew back his foot and slammed it against the door, found the shudder that went up the wood to be satisfying if not relieving, and limped into the kitchen to get that peanut butter.

“I’m going to eat the entire fucking jar,” he muttered.

But his sword, still dirtied, was lying on the table. He couldn’t put it away until he saw it cleaned and inspected it for damage. And he couldn’t eat with it dripping on the floor like that.

He sighed, dragging his hand down his face before remembering that it, like the sword, was also covered in blood. Swearing by the names of every deity he knew in both English and Wide and the other alien curses he’d picked up over the years, he went to the sink and scrubbed himself clean as well as he could, though the blood on his tunic was likely going to stain—the fabric was off-world, and so far had reacted poorly to most materials on this ’scape—and he got too frustrated to finish picking his fingernails clean, then stomped over into his room to get his stupid maintenance kit to get the stupid blade all nice and sparkly for its next stupid victim.

“Who’s the real victim, me or them, huh,” he muttered as he sat down with a towel over his knees, the kit set out on the table, and the sword in his hands. “Who’s the one who has to clean everything up in the end?”

Speaking of, there were smears and drips of blood all over the apartment from dragging the corpse in. That needed to be cleaned as well.

“Everything needs to be cleaned around here,” he snarled, scrubbing harder than what was polite with a rag at the blade. “Should just burn it all down and don’t bother building anything on top. Or else the ghosts will get at it.”

He was rambling nonsense. It was too late. He should be in bed. He should’ve been in bed hours ago. No, he wouldn’t have slept, but at least there were no random strangers to murder in bed. Not so far on this ’scape at least. Yeah there had been that one time, but that had been one time—

Rambling.

Jerry determinedly finished cleaning his sword in silence, not letting himself think a thing but focus solely on the monotonous, repetitive motions that had become familiar habit so long ago they should’ve been comforting now. Should have.

When it was done, he held the sword up, tilting it back and forth to watch the steel be highlighted at different angles. It wasn’t reflective enough to mirror his own face in it—which would have been far too thematically symbolic for Jerry to hold his lunch—but as he held it he couldn’t stop picturing the moment again and again, sliding the blade into the man’s gut before he could plunge his knife in Jerry’s throat or arm or whatever his wild swing had been aimed at. One moment, as shiny as it was now, the next, slick with gore. How quickly a thing became spoiled, and how easy to wipe it all away as if it had never happened.

Rambling.

Scowling, Jerry slid the sword into its sheath—good leather and metal, not flesh and bone—and put it on the table again. He tossed the towel onto the nearest puddle of blood (He was not scrubbing floors tonight. Not tomorrow either. He would make Lani do it. New resolution.) and, feeling exhausted, went to the cupboards. He didn’t even really want to eat anymore, but he did deserve at least one spoonful. Miserably, he pulled a cabinet open and dug through the mishmash of their rations gathered across the ’scapes and dumped in here in case of emergency to the fake back he’d installed early on. He pried the cruddy door open and wrapped his hand around the one remaining jar of air quotes peanut butter he had left.

The moment his fingers touched the plastic, he knew something was wrong. The weight was off.

Slowly, he pulled the jar out, dragging it through the rations without trying to maneuver it safely out. Old dusty packs of dried oatmeal and crumbled crackers fell to the floor, piling around his feet, as he held it up to his face.

He stared at the jar.

It was empty. Licked clean. Drawn on the lid in black marker, a smirking face winked at him.

Oh. Oh! Two murders tonight, then. It was a pity he’d already cleaned his sword.

The plastic squeaked. Jerry blinked and realized he had squeezed the empty jar so hard it was now crumbled in his fist, twisted in painfully distorted warpings.

“I’m going to do that to her bones!” he announced, cheerlessly, to no one.

“Wuh?” came a muffled yell from Lani’s room.

“You ate my peanut butter!” he called back, since apparently she’d been listening at the door. Waiting. Knowing. Giddy with excitement, no doubt.

“It wasn’t even good!”

“I am going to kill you!”

“Can’t! Locked the door!”

“There’s a window!”

“Ha! Wait, let me get a camera, I want to remember this!”

“Lani, I’m going to kill you! Straight up!”

“Thought you were bi.”

“You should see what I did to the jar.” He brandished it, though she wasn’t even in the room. “I didn’t even mean to.”

“Funny, the similarities between that statement and what I said about thugs in alleyways . . .”

“Going to kill you!”

“The day you say that sentence in past tense or at the very least present, I might start believing you!”

“Haha!” His voice dropped. “I’m going to bed.”

He closed his ears to whatever Lani said next and did that, crashing face-first onto the cot, which nearly buckled underneath his weight, and lay there with his eyes open, staring at the pilled fuzz of the mattress. He’d forgotten his sword in the kitchen. He always meant to have it on him, or close enough to be within arms-reach. He’d always had it, ever since Lani found out it in the sewers . . . he should go get it. Just in case. It was all he had to keep himself and his sister safe.

From the ghosts?

Rambling.

It could stay in the kitchen. For one night. Please, give him one night.

Jerry covered his eyes with his hand. Maybe that would help him sleep. But he could feel it, the dried blood still under his fingernails. He should’ve just cleaned that out, so it wouldn’t distract him. But it seemed, no matter what he did, he could never get every little bit out . . .

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

Arsinoe&Billy 4 🤗🤗

This one was fun. Also the child of forced Heterosexuality™ was fun to write!

Teacher/Single Parent AU

Arsinoe has to say, that of all the students she teaches, the one who is simultaneously her favourite and also her least favourite was Mary Chatworth. The young blonde girl was bright and as sharp as a whip but also seemed to be the most pissed at the world and questioned every single thing any authority figure said to her. Which was fine with Arsinoe (she remembers being seventeen and traumatised) but made it extraordinarily difficult for her to teach the course content on time. 

But, she wasn’t going to call Mary’s parents. Getting a young women in trouble for wanting knowledge wasn’t her style.

Which was why she was surprised when she got a phone call from Mary’s father. He had simply requested a meeting with her and that was that.

He was waiting by the office building and turned to her when she approached. She was almost thrown off balance for a second as he watched her approach with his deep hazel eyes. Still, she remained professional and reached a hander out.

“Hi, you must be William. I’m Arsinoe, Mary’s legal studies teacher,” she says as he takes her hand a shakes. His hand is warm and smooth and he flashes her a blinding white smile.

“Just Billy is fine. Only my mother calls me William. Shall we?” He says with a warm voice and gestures for them to go. She nods and lets him fall into step with her.

“So, I was surprised to hear from you. I saw no reason to contact you regarding Mary so I have to ask why you wished to speak to me?” She asks, turning into her classroom and taking a seat at on of the desks. Billy sits across from her with a sigh.

“I got a call from a Mr. Arron saying her behaviour was unacceptable and I should ask any of Mary’s other teachers and they would say the same thing. You’re her favourite teacher so I was hoping you could enlighten me to her behaviour. I’m really worried about her lately…,” he trails off and she shoots him a confused look. He catches it and sighs again, running a hand through his clean cut blonde hair, “her mum and I split up amicably when she was younger but lately she’s not reacting well to Christine’s partner. I really am hoping Mr. Arron is wrong,” he says nervously and Arsinoe laughs.

“Don’t tell him I said this, because I have to see him at family lunch on Saturdays, but Arron is wrong most of the time. Mary is fine, she wants knowledge and asks a lot of questions, which can make it hard to move onto the next topic, but one should never fault a student, especially a young woman, for wanting to learn more. Arron’s just a tool,” she says with a smile. Billy laughs quietly.

“And you’re related to Arron? Who you just called a tool?”

“He and my sister drunkenly eloped years ago, I still haven’t forgiven him for not inviting me,” she shrugs. He laughs again, gentle lines forming around his eyes.  “Oh and feel free to tell him you talked to me when you go see him. I have the power of making him sleep on the couch whenever I want so…,” they laughed again.

“Well, I might go see him now,” Billy says standing. Arsinoe stands with him and shakes his hand. “I’ll make sure to pass on your information to him. Thank you for being so gracious with Mary, she really does enjoy your classes,” he goes to walk away and she is almost sad to see him go until he turns back to her and seems to pause as if considering what to say. Finally, he seems to work it out. “Feel free to say no, but would you like to go to dinner with me sometime? As a date?”

Arsinoe doesn’t let her happy surprise show on her face and instead moves to her desk at the back of the room, grabbing a pen and a slip of paper.

“I would like that. Here’s my number,” she scrawls it quickly and hands it off to him. “Have fun telling Pietyr he’s wrong.”

~

It seems that no-one in her family realised that Mary Chatworth noticed everything, even with her head in a book. She knew that her mum liked women before her new step-mother came into the picture, she knew her grandmother became less of a bigot after her grandfather died.

And she knew her dad was seeing someone new, and it was going well, considering he had been going on dates with obviously the same person for the last 6 months. Which led her to her current predicament. She was spying.

She had been steadily following her dad in traffic, staying two cars back so he didn’t notice she was following. Eventually he dropped his car off with a valet at a fancy restaurant - too fancy for her to have ever been taken to. Still, she gets lucky when her dad is seated in front of the window. He orders something with the server and waits, so she waits.

Her phone dings and she looks over at it.

Message from Mum: How’s the stakeout going? Also, will you be home in time for dinner?

She texts back, Boring, Dad’s still waiting, and probably not but could you put a plate in the microwave in case?

Message from Mum: Will do. Also, tell me if she looks interesting so I can tease Billy about it later. Love you

She snorts and throws her phone down on the passenger seat, watching her dad in the restaurant again. Finally, she sees him smile and stand, kissing a woman who approaches him. She is as tall as him with dark hair chopped around her chin and when they pull away Mary is stunned.

“Holy fucking shit,” she whispers to the empty car before lifting her phone and snapping a photo, sending it off to her Instagram group chat.

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Mary is the only Responsible One™: Are y’all seeing what I’m seeing?

Evil Twin Uno to Mary is the only Responsible One™: is that your dad on a date with ms. queen? holy shit bro

Evil Twin Dos to Mary is the only Responsible One™: crap dude are you okay?

Self-proclaimed Dingus to Mary is the only Responsible One™: that’s somewhere between oof and yikes

Viv with no nickname to Mary is the only Responsible One™: babe if you wanna come get high with me to forget that image, feel free to come over.

Mary scoffed at that. If there was one thing she would not be doing tonight, it was getting high. Her step-mother had the nose of a drug-sniffing dog.

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Mary is the only Responsible One™: I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe tomorrow night when I’m staying at dad’s

Everyone’s debatable favourite to Mary is the only Responsible One™: yeah, get out of the house so your dad can spend spend quality time with you legal teacher *wink emoji*

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Mary is the only Responsible One™: I hate you

Everyone’s debatable favourite to Mary is the only Responsible One™: wait, you’re not at your dad’s tonight. Stick around and see if they leave together

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Mary is the only Responsible One™: ew ew ew ew ew ew fuck you fuck everyone. 

She threw her phone back onto the seat and continued to watch. She had to admit, it was kind of nice to see her dad smile like he was now. She was so used to see him stressed or disciplining her that even though he laughed, he didn’t smile as much as he was on this date.

She threw her head back and groaned. If it came down to her opinions about it and her dad being happy, she had to let her dad being happy, even with a woman who she saw everyday in class. 

Somehow the HBIC (MChat) to Viv with no nickname: If they leave together I’m coming to get high. I need an excuse to be at dad’s house tomorrow morning.

Viv with no nickname to Somehow the HBIC (MChat): I’ll save you a joint 

~

She wasn’t still high, but she still smelled undoubtedly like weed, which is why she went to her dad’s. Plus, she wanted to see whether Ms. Queen had stayed over. She let herself into the house and went straight to the kitchen. She really wanted peanut butter for some reason and she knew her dad loved that shit.

She grabs a spoon from a drawer and the peanut butter jar from the pantry and hops up on to the counter, crossing her legs and twisting the cap off.

She’s happily eating spoons of peanut butter on her kitchen bench when she hears her dad’s bedroom door swing open and footsteps that are definitely not her dad’s pad down the hall. She braces herself just as Ms. Queen comes into the kitchen and freezes. Mary looks over the teacher, wearing the dorkiest glasses, one of her dad’s sleep shirts and a pair of shorts.

They stare awkwardly at each other until the teacher rubs her nose and fixes her glasses.

“You look and smell like you spent the night getting high. Let me guess, Vivian?” Mary nods silently and Queen snorts. 

“Sorry, miss,” she says and Queen shudders.

“To start, I’m wearing one of your dad’s shirts, we’re at the point where you can call me Arsinoe and to finish, I don’t care, so long as you were doing anything to endanger yourself or anyone else. I’m not trying to be your mum, you already have enough of them, right?” Arsinoe says and grabs another spoon before pushing herself onto the counter. Mary offers her the peanut butter with a smile.

“My step-mum was super overbearing when it first became evident she would be around a while, so thanks, I guess,” Mary says, resting her head against the cupboard behind her. Arsinoe passes the peanut butter back.

“Well, I don’t know how long I’ll be around, but I really like your dad so I hope it’s a while. But I was seventeen once and I remember how much it sucked ass, so you don’t have to worry about me cramping your style,” Mary interrupts her with a snort and Arsinoe laughs, “wow I really sounded old then, huh?” Mary nodded.

“It’s fine. My mum still says tubular,” Mary says, meeting Arsinoe’s eyes for a beat and suddenly both were laughing.

“Ah, good to see you two getting along. What are you doing here kid? You’re meant to be at your mum’s,” Billy says as he enters the kitchen.

“I, uh, may have gone and smoked with Viv last night and you know what Denise is like,” she shrugged and her dad pursed his lips at her.

“I don’t approve of you getting high but I am glad you were honest about it and that you came someplace you feel safe. Now go text your mum you’re alright and sleep it off, please?” He says. Mary passed Arsinoe the peanut butter and hopped off of the counter, hugging her dad.

“Arsinoe can stay, she’s chill,” she compliments. Her dad smiles happily before ruffling her hair and sending her off to her room.

Send me a number and I’ll write a fic

[sparrowkingsley]

I'm Not Okay

Laurel had been awake for hours. Her mind was on overload. Sleep eluded her as she glanced at her phone over and over checking the time. After three hours of restlessness she had gotten up. Her body exhausted but her mind forcing it to move.

She couldn't stop thinking about the conversation that her and her mom had. What did she want? What did she want to do?

As a kid her interests were many yet sometimes so fleeting. Although she was a master at martial arts she didn't want a career in that. Oplympic fame had seemed cool but ultimately unexciting to her heart's desire. As a kid she had wanted to be a pirate, not a career her parents would want her to pursue to say the least.

Treasure hunting. Time jumping. Exploration was what she really wanted. Hadn't she just wrecked her best chance at that though? Would she be able to finish the Legend Program now? Would she even get back her time license? Most importantly what would this mean for her time with Heywood?

Heywood. Another dilemma her mind was fixated on.

It's not like Laurel hadn't noticed. Sure a lot of times she missed social cues. Her mind usually pulled her away from the things right in front of her. Distracted or overwhelmed by her own mind she usually annoyed most people. But not Heywood. Heywood always put up with her.

The looks they shared had changed recently or rather maybe she had just began to notice. She remembered feeling this change before when she had started to date Josh freshman year. He and her had been close and their relationship had went from, "he is a really great guy to hang out with" to "I really want to kiss him".

Before him she never even really thought about wanting someone to kiss her. It was confusing that she didn't want what other high school classmates seemed to. Then things changed when she connected with Josh.

Two months later it was over. Logically Laurel knew it wasn't her fault. As they spent less and less time together, Josh focusing on track and her devoting so much energy on her time schemes, the feelings had just dwindled away.

She tried to figure it out. Hoped they could work it out. Except she couldn't. She couldn't change things back to how they were when they started. So she broke it off and she lost him. Lost their connection and then lost their friendship.

So now, with Heywood, her best friend, the person she trusted and cared about more than anyone else ... if she ruined things with her? She couldn't lose her. She just couldn't.

Steady vibrations of a familiar sound pulled her away from her worries.

"Hey Sprout, you hungry?."

Her bullfrog continued his bellows till she dumped a few crickets into his large tank. As he hopped out of the water to devour them Laurel began to feed her other pets as well. Grab more crickets for Luna, her leopard gecko and her chameleon Judo. Open up her mini fridge for her scorpion Calypso's meal worms and one large, thawed rat for Sunshine, her boa.

As she opened up Sunshine's enclosure the snake slunk her head out demanding Laurel's affection. Laurel let the snake climb up her arm, up to her shoulders, the snake's tongue flickering against her cheek as she began to sing 'You are my Sunshine' softly. Sunshine satisfied with the attention then willing slid back into her home to enjoy her meal.

Now what?

Laurel tried to distract herself from thoughts of her best friend. Push ups. Sit ups. Pull ups. A few rounds with her punching bag. Still her mind wandered to the same thoughts.

Punch. Those amber eyes that were warmer than sunshine. Punch. Her long, wavy locks of brown hair that she pulled into a ponytail whenever they sparred together. Punch. What about the fact Heywood had three inches on her. Punch. Their height difference was just infuriating and she never was gonna stop teasing her about it. Punch. The way she would switch from English to Korean and back again and not even realize how amazing that was. Punch! And her singing voice, her singing gave Laurel chills no matter what song it was. Punch, punch! Her laugh was just the same. No it was even better! Punch, punch! When Heywood laughed it gave her the best feeling in the world. Punch, Punch! It was the most beautiful sound in the universe. Nothing could ever replace it. Punch, punch!

And it was all- Punch! Punch, Punch! PUNCHPUNCHPUNCHPUNCHPUNCH!

It was all too much.

Just too much.

Think about something else. Anything else. Anything but her.

Laurel threw off her combat gloves, wiped off her sweat with a towel, then made her way downstairs. Maybe she could distract herself by eating something? She figured she could at least try at this point.

"Good morning, Laurel."

Laurel practically jumped out of her skin when she rounded the corner and saw that Ava was already in the kitchen.

"Oh fu- oh um hey mom. You're up early? What time is it? I mean it's Saturday and usually you and Momma sleep in on Saturday so, wait... it's Saturday right?"

"It is 6:32 am on Saturday, October 6th 204-!"

"Um okay mom, chill with the play by play of our current timezone okay. I get it. I'm grounded. Stuck in this time till my community service is over. Geezzz, you don't have to rub it in."

"Very well dear. Would you like to eat breakfast together? I am preparing something special for you."

"Um, sure? If you want."

Laurel was super puzzled by the way her mother was acting. She was super stiff this morning. Like she was on auto pilot. What was more odd was that she was dressed in her pantsuit. Which she rarely ever wore anymore except when meeting with the Time Tribunal or helping out on timeline case.

Laurel began to dig her way into the fridge, "Are you meeting some of your time cop buddies today or like are you and mom doing some nostalgic role-playing thing? Cause if so I don't actually want to know about it. But like if you are please make sure to play your annoying music super loud okay. I don't need to hear you getting sweet with each other like ever."

"Sara is at the dojo. She is with a client this morning."

Laurel froze. Did she just... did her mom just call her momma Sara? She slowly pulled a jar of peanut butter out the fridge and turned around to look at her.

"Um? Are you and mom fighting?"

Ava pulled a cooking sheet out of the oven, not even looking up at her, "Your mother and I are fine, honey. Why do you ask?"

"Cause you rarely call her by her first name. And yesterday you both seemed fine so like, did you get into an argument about my situation or something?"

"Of course not, sweetie."

Laurel opened up the silverware drawer and grabbed a spoon. Something was off. Laurel felt her gut twist into a knot of uneasiness. Then she saw what her mom was pulling out of the oven and the pit in her stomach only grew.

"If nothing is wrong why are you making snickerdoodles at 6:30 something in the morning? You only bake them this early when you are upset or your mind is on something. Mom, seriously what is going on?"

"Nothing is going on. I made them for you. They are your favorite after all. I thought you might enjoy them since you will be stuck at home for the time being."

Laurel opened the jar of peanut butter. She swirled the spoon around for a bit. Her foot tapped as she watched her mom set the cookies on the cooling rack and turn off the oven. She couldn't hold it in any longer. She really needed her mom.

"Mom, I was wondering if we could maybe talk? It's about, well it's about me and um Heywood. I know I said nothing was going on between us but I, I really need your advice."

"Of course, kiddo. Ask me anything you need to."

Her throat tightened. Her fingers clenched against the jar. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A chill ran down her spine. All because of one word her mom had just said. "Kiddo?"

"Yes. Kiddo. Do you no longer like to be called that term of endearment?"

Laurel blinked. Once. Twice. And for a few moments just started at Ava. Afraid to look away.

"Hey mom... can you look at me for a second?"

Ava looked up. Her eyes looking straight into Laurel's as she took a huge spoonful of peanut butter into her mouth and immediately put it back into the jar.

"Yes dear?"

Laurel took a few moments to swallow the peanut butter. Silence settling uneasy between them. Tension set into Laurel as she leaned against the countertop.

"You know, I've always been an obnoxiously clever kid. Over the years I have found a lot of ways to intentionally annoy my parents. Years of practice you see. So I'm going to break down a few things for you, okay? My mom, Ava, absolutely hates when I eat directly out of the jar of peanut butter. Seriously it is one of her greatest pet peeves. She likes to call me by a lot of embarrassingly cutesy nicknames. Things like sweetie, honey and her little beam of sunshine when she wants to really irk me. But fun fact only my Momma, Sara, calls me kiddo. Interesting, right? So I'm going to give you one chance. Just one to answer me before things get ugly. Where are my moms and who the fuck are you?"

Next thing Laurel knew the person who most certainly was not her mother was diving across the countertop. She immediately defended herself. Starting by using a jar of peanut butter followed by a right hook to her opponent's face. She was going to thank her mom later for insisting on buying the organic peanut butter in a glass jar.

The imposter had recovered quickly, grabbing a kitchen knife as they began to square off with each other. Laurel had scooped up the closest item near her. A rolling pin that had been knocked off the counter at the initial struggle. Not the ideal weapon. Laurel would make it work.

"It is a shame that you discovered the truth so quickly. This means I must aquire or terminate you at this time. Stand down or perish."

"Not gonna happen. I'm going to take you down. You will tell me where my parents are."

"An unacceptable outcome."

How many times had she sparred with her moms. Countless times. Sometimes for hours at a time. They had drilled into her ways to fight. They taught her how to defend, attack, to adapt to all the things she might have to face. Except what was right in front of her. Someone trying to kill her. Someone who was wearing her mother's face.

Sweat trickled down her neck as she bobbed and weaved waiting on a opening to strike. The blade thunked against the wood of the pin as she blocked strike after strike. The sound of it sending trembles down her whole body as she backed her way into the living room to gain more open space. Tight in the kitchen her movements had been constricted. Now she could move freely and she took the opportunity to switch to the offensive.

Everything was fast. Her body and mind in sync with the furious thumping of her heart. Adrenaline pushed her forward as the knife dug deep into the rolling pin. Then she pulled it back, ripping the knife out the hand of her enemy giving her the full opening she needed. One jab to the chest followed by a roundhouse kick right to the face. That is how she should have won.

Pinning her down Laurel had grabbed her by the collar. Her other fist was raised to strike again. She had been ready to demand where her family was. She had been willing to do whatever it would take. Till she saw the necklace. It was a result from her first heist.  A jade frog she had spent actual time on to carve with the help of Axl for weeks. She had made three of them. One for herself, one for Sara and one for Ava. It wasn't supposed to be there. It shouldn't have been there. She had froze.

That's how she ended up on her back instead. Wheezing for breath as she looked into eyes that pretended to be ones she had known all her life. It didn't feel real yet it was happening. Her fingers grasping at hands closing around her throat. Her thrashing slowing down against her will.  The darkness seeping into her vision. Laurel was going to die. Her time had run out.