#not only does he get the paycheck from the queen herself

[lord-save-me]

Thinking about how disgustingly rich Jack Harkness is

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

It looks like Meghan may be test-driving yet another narrative to handle the criticism about her failure to royal: it's all Harry's fault.

This started last week when reporters and journalists were speculating whether the Sussexes, had they stayed in, would have been able to help KP squash all the noise about Kate's condition and help BP squash the nosie about the royal family's bench strength by stepping up royal work. Hugo Vickers more or less said "no, because the Sussexes are only in it for themselves. Meghan wouldn't step up unless she personally benefited. She would have seen nothing in it for herself and would refuse to work."

So cue Esther Krakue, who appeared on Sky News Australia today. She agrees with Vickers that the Sussexes wouldn't have stepped up, but says it's because of Harry. Not Meghan. And the way she lays the blame squarely on Harry, she plays to both sides of the royal fence:

For the squaddies, she says "it's Harry's fault Meghan was a terrible royal because he made her start working before she was ready and willing."

For the rest of us, she says "Meghan lacked the temperament to be a proper royal because she wanted to be in charge and it's Harry's fault because he should have prepared her better."

That she speaks to both sides is making it a little harder to see whether this is Meghan setting up for a divorce narrative or whether this is an olive branch PR.

A quick disclaimer. I've no idea where Krakue falls in the royal reporting spectrum (is she a Sussex mouthpiece? Is she a straight-shooting royalist? Or does she go where the paycheck is?)

For me, I come down on "well, this feels like pre-emptive divorce narrative." Mainly because Meghan has been laying groundwork since 2017 for a domestic violence-based divorce narrative and "Harry forced Meghan to work" not only plays into that, it also implies he threatened Meghan.

Anyway. Here's the story.

And by the way, did you know this is the 11th time Meghan has tried to rewrite the story of her royal career? Let's review them!

#1. While they were dating/pre-engaged (2016 - late 2017): I’ll be the bestest duchess to duchess, better than Kate.

#2. While they were engaged (late 2017 - mid-2018): I’m going to hit the ground running and everyone will be so impressed The Queen will make me her heir.

#3. While “in” for 72 days (mid-2018 - late 2019): I’m only supporting my preferred charities and best friends, how dare you *coat flick*

#4. While Megxiting (late 2019 - March 2020): I don’t need the royals to do good work. They’re old-fashioned anyway. Watch me hit the ground running and being the bestest duchess to duchess.

#5. During the pandemic (March 2020 - March 2021): I’m not bound by the code of ethics the royals are so I can volunteer and support my most passionate causes, politics and political issues.

#6. While sobbing to Oprah (March 2020 - late 2021): I can’t do anything because Waity Katie gets all the help, attention, and money. I’m just a young black mother.

Next, Meghan loses control of the narrative as everyone shows up for the BRF after the Oprah interview, and even more so after Philip passes away. This collective effort establishes the narrative of Meghan's royal career as actually scornful "I should be getting paid for this" contempt (as summed up by Bower in 2021's Revenge). Meghan tries some things to backtrack over this but she just digs herself in deeper and deeper, leading to three competing narratives over Meghan's work--

a) “No one from the palace helped us, we had to do it all on our own because William and Kate were jealous and refused to let anyone help us.” (Sussexes)

b) “It’s your own fault. Harry should have better prepared you for the realities of royal life and actually, HERE ARE THE RECEIPTS, WE DID TRY TO HELP but you wanted your LA teams to do it instead.” (BRF and Royal Rota)

c) “She never wanted to work, she just wanted the fame and fortune, come on you people, it's so [bleeping] obvious." (The public and most royal watchers)

This lasts until the end of 2021 when Sunshine Sachs/Netflix/Spotify finally dig Meghan out through a few rounds of Olive Branch PR and Jubilee and Hollywood manifestations, leading to...

#8. While finally launching her Megxit career (end of 2021 to September 2022, The Queen’s passing): I’m finally doing the work I was promised I could do by the royal family. Look at what you could've had.

#9. After The Queen’s passing (October 2022 to end of 2022): I just wanted to work but they wouldn't let me do anything because they're jealous.

#10. During the Charles era (2023): I couldn’t do anything because the royals are racist.

And now, #11. Royal Health Crisis (January 2024): I never wanted to be a working royal, Harry made me and he didn’t prepare me appropriately.

[unfortunatelilbirdie]

((Headcanon i came up with the time I was gone

Qrow is the summer maiden but only three people know. Herself, ozpin and her teacher (the old winter maiden)

Adding to the above qrow became the summer maiden when she went on a mission with said maiden who died saving her because the previous summer maiden decided qrow's life was more important. (They had visions of the future)

So qrow than learned how to use her powers from ozpin and the winter maiden. And is able to achieve a lot with said powers but due to not being chosen by the magic it does have its price to pay, when she does use it. (Like wearing clothes and shoes much to small)

Certainly season Maiden have an element that their best with though they can use all of them one works better than the others. (Think sorcerer types in dnd) spring is wind, summer is fire, fall is earth, winter is water

And tapping into Qrow's semblance i sort believe she cam manipulate and actively transfer some bad luck to others and or objects while doing so is temporarily ( while on something else it isn't effected her) qrow can also amplify it for herself for aka make the bad luck worse for herself again this is only temporarily before it returns to normal. (Another way to think of it is is like breathing. On other people and objects is when you hold your breath, while amplify is deep breaths)

Qrow carries a small dagger that can be coated in poison(certain type of faunas) that can brake though someone's semblance (she knows someone)

Qrow is in charge of a secret group of cops (the votes were rig for her) that goes eliminating rouge hunters and powerful aura users. She was chosen by being nominated and than voted on by the counsel members of all four kingdoms. This also allows her access to top secret places. And qrow also has a rather nice paycheck.

Qrow doesn't always drink she just acts like it to get information. Or to make people let the guard down around her.

Just for shits and giggles when spying on Salam and she saw a chess board qrow put a white queen on it before disappearing (a screw you to Salam sort of how cinder did that but with a black queen)

Before yang switched style, qrow was teaching her how to use her weapon and once yang semblance came in encourage her that it was perfectly fine to switch fighting style to better complement her semblance. But that doesn't mean yang doesn't practice and will join in when qrow started teaching ruby.

Qrow will also be the next teacher to the next two maidens who will be chosen by the magic rather than by the user (because fuck cinder, raven would not let that risk live, and the winter maiden was already dying)

Qrow also has a bet going on with oz about who between which one of her niece will confess to jaune first since she see her old team in the three of them.

---------ship headcanon--------

Ozpin and qrow have a son name yin (though I did change the age I have decided he would be eight by the fall of beacon) aka yang 17, ruby 15, yin 8

Qrow has been married to ozpin for years, only ozpin and team strq know of it. (During the fall glyanda and ironwood would find out)

Yin is only known by his parents, taiyang, raven, one doctor (who i sworn to keep his mouth shut) and the online teacher who grades his paperwork but has never seen yin in person (aka yin is home schooled) though again after the fall a few more people will know of him.

She didn't want to but she left yin in the care of taiyang and yang before going to go find ruby and her friends.

[weaver-z]

YAY okay. So it's set in the 1970's, in the fictional town of Crystal Cove. The exact coastal state in which it is located is deliberately ambiguous (in Scooby tradition). This is an origin story.

Cast:

Fred Jones: The golden boy of Crystal Cove Prep! Everyone knows him, everyone loves him. Fred is a popular and eternally-cheerful student everyone can look to for guidance; he's level-headed in any crisis and has led the football team to multiple victories. He is also heavily masking undiagnosed autism; at home, he is obsessed with Rube Goldberg-esque machines and traps, a la several of his famous incarnations before this. His parents, the mayor and his wife, look down on his "hobbies" and ensure that he is very aware that his acceptance in the family hinges on his ability to perform his role as the all-American guy he's meant to be.

Daphne Blake: The it girl, the queen, the star. A dead ringer for Lola Falana. From a young age, she was a girl of contradictions: she wanted to be an actress (which her parents approved of) and a detective (which her parents disliked immensely), and she pursued both. Despite seeming to have it all in Crystal Cove (a relatively liberal town for the 70's), Daphne feels great pressure to perform well in everything she does as the daughter of an old money family that had to fight desperately to keep what it earned. She is Creole by ancestry.

Norville "Shaggy" Rogers: The class clown and total burnout. Shaggy is a third-generation Japanese citizen in America. He is enrolled in Crystal Cove Prep, which does not allow him to bring Scooby to class, much to his chagrin. Shaggy trained Scooby in much the way a service dog would be trained, as Shaggy deals with chronic pain and Erb's palsy that makes moving his left arm and upper body difficult; Scooby retrieves items for Shaggy and follows him unleashed, and the two have a deep bond. Shaggy is also known as the school's pothead; despite this, he maintains good grades with the help of his friend, Velma, because he loves his parents and wants to make them proud.

Velma Dinkley: The nerdy scholarship kid. Everyone cheats off her tests when they're not pretending she doesn't exist. Unlike other kids at Crystal Cove Prep, she's the child of a single mother who lives paycheck to paycheck as a local librarian. Velma herself is an aspiring private detective whose cases haven't exactly made the papers -- she's usually finding lost cats, not tracking down murderers. She shrugs off the bullying and cold shoulders she gets at Crystal Cove Prep with the help of her only close friend, her fellow bottom-of-the-social-ladder student Shaggy. He tags along on her detective work, because he likes to feel like he's a part of things, and she lets him because he's a damn good cook. Velma is also Jewish, and is one of the only Jewish people in Crystal Cove.

The plot: Two attractive, popular girls at Crystal Cove Prep go missing, and the police are strangely quiet about the case; they're giving the public the runaway excuse, and Velma isn't satisfied with it. When Daphne narrowly escapes a terrifying attack by a "monster," she enlists Velma (and by extension, Shaggy) to help her investigate the culprit: Fred's popular, enigmatic older brother. Something something hijinks ensue.

Hope everyone enjoyed this <3 teehee <3

Btw does anyone want to hear my concept for a possibly decent Scooby Doo reboot with added diversity/adult themes

[nonasuch]

here is a fun little star wars scenario that has been pinging around inside my head like a screensaver:

so let’s say there’s some very zealous, very low-ranking fresh young Imperial officer on duty the day they take the Senator from Alderaan into custody. 

and he is very very nervous because a) he’s been here for like a week and b) none of that week required him to be in a room with Darth Vader. which he now is. so he is trying to focus very very hard on Doing Everything Exactly According To Protocol, as a means of not focusing on the seven-foot evil wizard standing fifteen feet away.

and part of the protocol for processing new prisoners is to make a new file for them in the prisoner database, and enter all their biographical details and vital statistics and a gene sample and their known associates and the nature of their terrible crimes against the Empire and so on. which he does! very meticulously!

except the computer keeps throwing an error message. the stupid thing keeps beeping at him, this awful grating little noise that makes his shoulders ratchet up tighter and tighter every time it honks at him, and he can’t fix it and Darth Vader is right over there—

except oh god oh fuck the beeping noise must be annoying Darth Vader, too, because he’s coming over here and our poor junior officer is convinced he’s going to die before he even lives long enough to send his first paycheck home to his poor widowed mother —

he stammers out an apology. Vader just stares at him. he swears he’ll figure out the problem right away, sir, it’s probably a bug in the system, it’s just that for some silly reason it keeps saying this gene sample doesn’t match the one on file for the Senator so he can’t get her logged as a new prisoner just yet —

“Dismissed,” says Vader. the poor kid flees, gratefully.

Vader considers the matter. in fact, his underling was correct: the gene sample, which he saw taken through his very own helmet lenses, does not match the official record of Senator Leia Organa, heir to the throne of Alderaan. so: perhaps the sample on record was falsified. not impossible, but very, very difficult. and ordinarily a crime attempted by the lowly and desperate. he cannot see any need for it, in the daughter of a queen.

another possibility presents itself. Alderaan has no history of using royal doubles, as some worlds do. but Bail Organa has worked closely with royal houses where the practice is long-established. perhaps he was inspired. perhaps the girl they captured is not Leia Organa at all.

Vader runs the gene sample against the ship’s database. it is woefully incomplete, of course, containing only a fraction of the Empire���s billions of citizens: the ship’s own complement, a selection of known criminals and Rebels they might encounter, high-ranking officials whose identity must be confirmed should the Emperor require their presence. unlikely that this girl, whoever she is, would have a record here, or even a partial match—

the computer beeps at him. it’s a cheerful beep, this time, not the error message that stymied the junior officer. the computer reports that the gene sample is a partial match for Pooja Naberrie, the Senator from Naboo. they are, with eighty-nine percent probability, first cousins.

and Vader just. kind of stands there. for a minute.

when he goes to Leia’s cell, there’s no interrogation droid with him. he goes in. he shuts the door behind him. he stands there, silent, for frankly a worryingly long time, until Leia has run through her entire stockpile of  “how dare you, I’m a member of the Senate on a humanitarian mission” and “whatever you want, you can’t possibly think I would be of any help” and “well, if you’re going to interrogate me, get on with it already” and “are you even listening to me?” and  falls silent herself. 

Vader has been listening to her. he has also been listening to the Force, which seems to think that she’s not lying. obviously the humanitarian mission part is bullshit, that goes without saying. but the “I’m Senator Leia Organa” parts and the “I won’t help you” parts? yeah. he searched his feelings. he knows them to be true. the Force is singing in his head, bright and clear, in a way it hasn’t for nearly twenty years.

there’s still Tarkin to deal with, though. Vader turns and leaves the cell without a word.

Tarkin wants to blow up Alderaan. this is unacceptable, obviously, and Vader forbids it on the grounds that the Queen and the Viceroy possess vital intelligence, not disclosed to their daughter, that must be acquired. said intelligence being, not that he’s saying this out loud, how the fuck Bail got his hands on his daughter, and who else knows about it.

“the fate of the galaxy rests on it,” is what he does say out loud. from the way the Force harmonizes with his words, that might even be true.

so the Death Star just. parks there. in an incredibly threatening orbit around the planet. they issue a demand that the Organas surrender themselves, or else, but apparently the happy couple just left for a low-tech weekend retreat in the mountains, what awful timing, they’re sending someone to fetch them right away. Vader shuts himself up in his quarters, to seethe and watch the surveillance feed from Leia’s cell. he’s not really paying attention to much else. 

and it’s not like a random freighter getting tractored in for being an incredibly obvious smuggling vessel is the kind of thing you’d alert Darth Vader over, anyway. 

so he’s still sitting there, one great big thought filling up his whole entire head, watching Leia take a frustration nap, when her cell door opens. 

and a trooper comes in.

and the trooper takes off his helmet.

and he says, “I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”

(continued here)

[thealmightyemprex]

Fantasy Month :Alice in Wonderland

FOr the first film in fantasy month I shall look at Irwin Allens TV miniseries adaptation of Lewis Carrolls classic Alice stories

In this 1985 film Alice (Natalie Gregory) becomes lost in the realm of wonderland ,meeting odd characters she is eager to return home and prove herself not just a child ....And must also face her fears in the form of the Jabberwocky (Tom McLoughlin )

So this is one of many many many many adaptations of Alice in Wonderland.I have been aware of this version for a long time :Saw the VHS at blockbuster back when I was akid ,considered purchasing the DVD once and of course I know its a favorite for many Wonderland fans .Now with films like this ,that I didnt see as a kid ,I sometimes I deel a bit melancholly that it has taken me long to see it....I dont feel that this time.Now I did very much enjoy this ,this was a very fun time for me.....But I dont think it would of resonated with kid me,and being more mature ,familiar with the Alice story ,familiar with the entertainers within this and able to apppreciate certain moments ,I like it and feel no regret .That is to say,I also have problems,but I mostly really liked this

So what is this ?Where does this fall in the pantheon of Alice films .Well 4 things make it stand out

1.It adapts both Alices Adventures in Wonderland and Alice Through The Looking Glass ,first half is WOnderland ,second half Looking Glass . Most versions either just do Wonderland or mix in both stories together .As an adaptation I can only speak for the first half ,for I have only read Wonderland ....And its not adapted great ,some things they go too true to text despite their being obvious changes and certain scenes due to these changes become pointless(THe Caterpiller scenes purpose had been deleted so I dont know why it wasnt cut ).However the story does capture the madness I associate with Alice

2.The film adds a thread.Now the Alice stories are nonsense tales .just random encounters with weird characters ,not really a plot to speak of .THis movie add one about Alice growing up and her desire to go home ,first half really tackeling the growing up thing and the second is her facing her fears .I do like the idea of this arc for Alice ,even if I dont feelWonderland is the best story for this . The film also adds a villain in the form of the Jabberwocky from Lewis Carrols poem,who is the personification of Alices fears.I actually like this change ,I'm a big fan of the monster from the mind idea ,in fact the use of the Jabberwocky here reminds me of the Rhino from James and the Giant Peach (A childhood favorite of mine ) and I think the Jabberwocky is legit scary for kids ,the scene where he is introduced was legit spooky. What holds him back is he just represents fear and nothing concrete

3.THE ALL STAR CAST .Yeah its not the only version to get big actors but holy cow so many big stars are in this ,I cant comment on every single one .I'll start with the negative,cause while most of the cast is good some feel like they are collecting a paycheck : I dont know why Shelley Winters and Donald O'Connor and Shelley Winters are even there as the Lowrey Bird and Dodo ,they feel wasted. I was mixed on Sid Cesaras the Gryphon while always good honestly just feels like Sid Cesar in a Gryphon outfit .My least favorite was Sammy Davis Jr as the Caterpillar,dont get me wrong ,Davis Jr was a great performer ,but he is reallly stiff and miscast here .There are also cast members who I think are good ,but not my favorite versions of these characters like Red Buttons as the White Rabbit and Anthony Newley as Mad Hatter .Then you have some that I think are great even perfect like :

Telly Savalas who is wonderfully mysterious as the Cheshire Cat

Roddy McDowall as the March Hare,who steals the Mad Tea party scene

Jayne Meadows anbd Robert Morely are pitch perfect as the Queen and King of hearts

Ringo Starr is a ton of fun as the Mock Turtle

FRom what I understand Carol Channings performance as the White Queen has people kind of split but I adored her ,she is so fun to watch

Harvey Korman as the White King is fun cause.....Look I just like Harvey Korman

Merv Griffin,PAtrick Duffy,Steve Allen (Who also wrote the songs ) and Pat Morita are BRILLAINT as the conductor and passengers on the train,which maybe my favorite non musical scene

Karl Malden REALLY impressed me as the Walrus ,especially his singing ability

Eydie Gorme and Steve Lawrence were a unique take on Tweedledee and Tweedledum

And Lloyd Bridges is so darn lovable as theWhite Knight,and was happy he got to play a role in the finale ,fighting the Jabberwocky

I didnt even mention Sherman Hemsley ,Johnathan Winters,Beau Bridges and Ernest Borgnine!!!!

4.The songs ! This is a musical with songs by Steve Allen .....And for the most part the songs work.Yes some are filler and not alll of them work,but there were more that did work then didnt .I think the songs in the first half are more memorable.The two songs that stood out to me are the Walrus and the Carpenters song (Who knew Karl Malden had a musical flare to him)and really my favorite scene is Cheshire Cats song Theres No Way Home ,which mysterious and kind of sad but beautifully sung by Telly Savalas. Its the scene that stuck with me

Outside these main elements there are a few other things I wanna discuss.The prooduction design and costumes are very theatrical,this feels like a play,they are intenionally not realistic .The costumes remind me a lot of Fairy Tale Theater ,though the makeup is more stage makeup ,less cinematic here.I think I like the costumes,I've seen better but .....I've seen the 1933 version which this is much better then.I will say despite this being very light version.....There is a somewhat unsettling quality to it which I feel has to be part of Wonderland.WE have the obvious scary part ,the Jabberwocky,who is a big dragon monster ,but theres just the way characters react to Alice :The Cheshire Cat is very sinister ,the Mad Tea Party feel truly mad ,and some character are just very rude and mean .Theres also just odd creepy moments......CAroll Chyanning turns into a sheep out of nowhere and the Pig baby scene just has me very uncomfortable

This film does have a great grounding element:Natalie Gregory as possibly the best Alice I have seen. Alice here is very relatable ,when your a kid you wanna be taken seriously ,so I really connet to her.When she is scared your scared ,when she is happy you are ,and she almost outshines her older co stars .She is the ancor that makes the film work

Sooooo this review went on for a while.I just had a lot to say about the film.I think it is flawed but it is very enjoyable

@ariel-seagull-wings @amalthea9 @princesssarisa @filmcityworld1 @the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @angelixgutz

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

¤~°Scary Monsters! Screaming Halloween Show: Spooky Sweet°~¤

(Y/N) and Yuu felt the warmth of the sun on their backs as the two walk to Ramshackle. The two quiet as Grim chatters about on Yuu's shoulder. "Yuu, um.. Where exactly were you from before Twisted Wonderland?" The female dorm leader asked her vice dorm leader.

(Even though she thought Yuu would be suited much better as dorm leader.)

Yuu shrugs his shoulders lightly so Grim won't fall. His left hand and right hand carrying two bags, while (Y/N) carried the other bags with ease. "To be honest, I'm not really sure.. I don't really have time to think about it."

Yuu said plainly to (Y/N)'s question.The (h/c)-nette hummed in response. Not minding the young males simplistic wording. Instead she just smiled at him, "I'm from (Y/H), well... From what I remember."

She answered simply, like Yuu. "Huh. Really? I think I remember a place like that on the map, I don't think I've ever been there." (Y/N) (e/c) eyes widen, "maybe I could show you around if you ever visit! I think you would like it."

Yuu nods, smiling back at his crush. "Sure, I wouldn't mind." (Y/N) ruffled Yuu's head, his locks turning slightly messy. The male huffs at her antics as Grim laughs. "Sorry, couldn't help myself, you look cute when you pout. Kinda like Riddle!"

The female joked, Yuu only shakes his head as the two were finally on NRC grounds. Grim hops off Yuu shoulder and fly to Ramshackle without the two. Chanting that he wants to eat tuna. "Grim..!"

Yuu calls out to the furball, who didn't hear Yuu. "Fnga!! A monster!" Grim cries as a paper dragon was covering the Ramshackle grounds. Not seeing the students scattered around the area. Working diligently on decorating the whole place.

(Y/N)'s mouth turns into a excited grin, while Yuu looks at it confusingly. Not knowing of the spooky event they would soon participate in!

_______________________________________________

(Y/N) hears a knock on the Ramschakle dorm, curiously. She gets up from her spot on the couch and goes to open the door. Unlocking the front door, the female looks around the area. Not a single ghost, person, beastman, fae, in sight. Only a lonely brown package at the bottom of the floor.

(Y/N) picks up the box carefully and takes it inside. When walking to the lounge room, the three ghosts that lived in Rambschakle float down stairs to see what's up. (Y/N) sits back on the couch, with the average sized box sitting on her lap. "Did you three order something?" (Y/N) asked undead friends, the three shook their heads.

"I wonder what's in it?" One of three spoke up."Maybe it's something from the headmaster?" (Y/N) nods, "it could be.." She mutters quietly to herself.

(Y/N) opens the package with hesitation in each of her movements. A piece of (color) neatly folded fabric was in the box. "Huh?" Taking the fabric out, it reveals to be a lot more fabrics!?? (Y/N) and three ghosts look over the first piece of cloth and fabrics that had been in the box.

While the other colorful fabrics still sat at the bottom of the package. "Why is this here..?" (Y/N) asked, holding the (color) cloth up in front of three ghosts. "It must be left overs from the Diasomnia dorm!" The chubby ghost shouted in glee.

"Oh, right! It was probably for their costumes for the Halloween event!" The young female said, but was still puzzled. "Where did this even come from..?" "It came from the box," the smaller ghost said. "Right.. what I meant was, who sent it here?"

Pouring out the fabrics from the box to see if there was a note, or a price tag, nothing was there. "Strange.." The slinky ghost said as he rubbed his chin. (Y/N) could agree with that, but she was more drawn to the cloths scattered around on the couch. A idea pops in her head as she folds up the cloths and lays the dress on the couch.

"I think I got a idea on what to use this for. You three, please protect the stuff on the couch and watch over Yuu and Grim. I need to get some stuff from Mr. Sams shop!" (Y/N) ran out of Ramshackle and tried not to knock into the paper dragon that Senior Vanrouge and his other dorm members worked on.

Not seeing Yuu's confused stare from one of the Ramshackle window's. Once she had returned, she had a pumpkin in one hand. A bag in the other. "It's time to REALLY get into the spirit of Halloween!" (Y/N) placed the pumpkin on the counter and heads up stairs to Yuu/Grims room.

Not before taking the "mystery" box with her.

______________________________________________

It was finally Halloween week! The decorations and costumes were ready. The Halloween committee had decided to drop by Ramshackle to make sure everything was in order. "Wow, everything looks great!" Kalim said with enthusiasm as his ruby eyes shined.

Mallues turns a bit smug after Kalim priase. "Thank you, the Di dorm worked very hard on this." Lilia chuckles at the dorm leader and his haughty tone. Cater takes a few pics, while Deuce looks around. "Where's (Y/N), Yuu and Grim? Shouldn't they have met up with us now?"

"Maybe something came up?" Epel said, looking around the area as well. Vil sighs, "being fashionably late is not something you should do." Jack ears perk up as footsteps came towards the group. "I hear something, I think their on there way here."

Jack was most definitely right about that! Grim came to the group first before the dorm leaders. "Nyaha! Stare at the AMAZING Grim and his awesome costume!" The little feline shouted in pride and glee. His little hat tipping a bit.

"Grim! You're a ghost for Halloween?" Deuce questioned Grim, the furball gives a toothy grin. "Of course!" "What about the others.." Idia asks quietly.

A tired sigh escaped a familiar vice-prefect. Yuu showed a few steps behind Grim. "Hey guys, sorry for being late." Yuu apologized, yet the student didn't look exactly like himself at all! Yuu was dressed up today.

Yuu wore loose white shirt and a slightly grayish vest that had a tail coat attached behind him.The vest had small spider web designs that were a light shade blue, even some at the tail coats end. A pair of simple white pants and shoes. Yuu hair was rather messy, but looked very fluffy.

The final touch was a blue bow-tie that wrapped around his neck.

"You two look great!" Cater said as he started to take a few photos. "Not bad, Yuu!" Deuce says as he pats his friends back rather harshly. Yuu does his best not to double take and nods at his fellow first year.

"Thanks. You should tell (Y/N) and the ghosts that. They worked hard on them."

Almost like a genie being called. The female appeared before the group. "I'm glad you guys liked it." The (h/c) haired female said. "I had no clue what to do durring costume making, I'm greatful the ghosts had helped out."

The dorm leader says bashfully, rubbing the back of neck. "So.. What do you think!" She said with smirk, a creepy gleam in her eyes. The Halloween committee stares at her with awe.

(Y/N) wore a (f/c) dress that had bits of rips and tears. A few peices of uneven fabric hanged off her dress, almost like someone had clawed at it. Splashes of fake blood covered some areas of the dress. A simple white sash was also on her dress, covered in hints of fake blood as well. The sash said "Queen" on it in pretty hand writing.

A plastic tiara was placed crookedly on her head head. Her hair (styled/same). She held a knife in her hands that was drenched in fake blood. "Pretty cool right?" (Y/N) asked the the group.

A confident smile on her face as she waited for someone to respond. Surprisingly, Idia was the first to talk. "You look so.. MOE!" Idia fanboys internally at her costume.

Azul doesn't comment on his friends wording, he just stares at (Y/N) choice of outfit. "What was your thought process for these costumes, (Y/N)?" Jade asked for Azul. Even if the Leech brother was also in slight shock. Which was uncommon to him most days.

(Y/N) swings the knife around, like she was playing hot patato with it. But stops after Jade asked his question. "Er.. well you see. In Yuu's and my world, there was a story or song.. I can't really remember which?"

"But, it was a song about girl who wanted to become the "queen" of her dance that her school was having. Though someone stole her dream and she went on a murderous rampage during the party. Her name was Sarra, I think.. It's a bit fuzzy trying to remember. Anyway, I was inspired by it and then made these costumes with the ghosts help!"

(Y/N) explained, yet Vil looks at her with confusion. "Where did even get those clothes?" Vil gestured to her dress and Yuu's outfit. "I found them outside of Ramshackle. I think it was leftovers of from the Diasomnia dorm?"

"The rest I bought at Sam's shop using some of my paycheck." Yuu overheard her and looks at (Y/N) with worry. "Oh, I see." The handsome vampire said, walking over to her. Vil gently grips her chin, looking over her face.

"Hmm." He hummed, caressing one of her cheeks. "You need to put on some make-up." Vil says as he let's go of her. Pulling out a tiny tube of lipstick, he carefully applied it to her lips.

"I'll put on the rest once we are inside." Not caring for the hateful or unhappy stares of the Halloween committee. Vil goes back to Epel side. The first year looks anywhere but his dorm leader. His fists clenching tightly.

Kalim joyfully jumps over to (Y/N), "you look so pretty! And scary too!" Caring very little on how close they were. The fake werewolf holds her arm as he bombarded (Y/N) with sweet compliments. Cater steps in front of the two.

"(Y/N)-Chan~ Mind if I take a pic of you? Your super scary cute right now!" The female nods as Cater starts snapping a few photos. Hashtaging the pics under, super cute, NRC Halloween event! Cater then takes a selfie as well after, "thanks (Y/N)-Chan!"

"I think it's time to get going." Jack tells the group. Everyone agreed and started to walk to the main campus. Yuu and (Y/N) stayed in the back of group. "You didn't tell me you used your paycheck."

Yuu said as he stared at the female straight in the eye. The (h/c)-nette hurriedly says that she still has enough money for other necessities the three might need in the future. But Yuu only shakes their head, "I could of pitched in." "No way Yuu, you already used most of your Madols on groceries. You need to relax once in awhile and let me treat you!"

Yuu still was not convinced, (Y/N) sighs at him. "We can talk about this later. Right now, I want you to enjoy yourself tonight!" (Y/N) said with a determined, but a pleadding look in her (e/c) eyes. Yuu goes silent, though finally caved in. "Alright.."

"Good, cause I didn't want to abuse my power of dorm leader to make you." (Y/N) jokes, in her head she was cheering for her victory! Yuu gave her a small smile. (Y/N) grasps his hand as the two try not to lose the group.

The End!

(Alright. So I decided to add Yuu in this one because I think Yuu needs more love and free time. They keep dealing with so much stuff, so they need a break! I choose Sara Berry for (Y/N) outfit as a spooky easter egg. Grim and Yuu are her victims, so I gave them ghost costumes! Anyway, Happy Spooky Month! 👻 🎃🃏🍭🍬🍫🎇🎆)

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

just full on bodies you with a semi NEW FIC JUST DROPPED BABES

we are leaving cute high school world and entering pain town. this story will have mentions of self harm and suicidal ideation. Please take care of yourselves and don't engage if that sort of content is triggering to you. (be nice to yourselves, i love you)

The worst year of his life starts out the same as so many good days, it almost makes him dizzy to think back on. He feels, later, that a start to this much torment, this painful, should have begun completely fucking miserable, but it had been just any other day. It starts the same way so many days before it starts. His eyes open. He’s in his bedroom, in his bed, like normal. He’s staring up at his black ceiling, wrapped up in his bedspread. His phone buzzes, and he groans, reaches for it, scans messages. A good morning from Barbara, an unread goodnight from Adam, a text from that talent agency that there was something they could use his voice for. He throws back his blankets, rubs sleep from his eyes, and dresses.

In high school his uniform had been an oversized striped hoodie, but for his birthday a few years ago, Charles had bought him several nice dress pants, suit jackets, and collared shirts, and he’d sort of settled into that as his new everyday. He likes how he looks, because this shit is expensive, custom, made to fit his more generous frame, and both his partners always say he looks handsome in a jacket and tie. (Sometimes Barbara yanks him around by the tie. Sometimes Adam snaps his suspenders.) And besides, his dad had taken his preferences into consideration, because all the pieces he’d been gifted had that pattern he was drawn to, thick black and white stripes that absolutely stand out in a crowd. He dresses quickly, throws on his suit jacket over his pinstriped shirt. He adjusts his tie, and gives a grin. Too many teeth, too sharp, and he waves a hand in front of his mouth, and tries again. Human teeth. There we go, B-Man. He lifts his legs, not especially in the mood to walk, and begins to make his way downstairs, for breakfast. He passes by Lydia’s room, and considers harassing his sister, but he remembers how bad he needed his Saturday sleep-ins at fifteen, and takes pity on her, floating past her door silently.

His father, always an early riser, is already in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee, and Betelgeuse lets his feet hit the floor, so that his heeled boots clack against the kitchen tile.

Charles knows the sound, doesn’t even turn around. “Morning, BJ. Any plans for today?”

His relaxed, not exactly actively working lifestyle is not his dad’s favorite, but he’s got a long time, a lot longer than any other person, to work a job. He's just enjoying the time he gets with all his favorite breathers, before he doesn’t have it anymore. At least, that’s always been his excuse. It's not that he can't find work, or that he’s unhirable to a normal job, it’s that he’s trying to enjoy life. Obviously.

But there's good news this morning.

“Got a text from th’ agency. Some voice work,” he grunts. His insanely gravely voice is not always in high demand, but it's been getting some attention lately, mostly because the last commercial he did voice over for, he had to sing, and the request for more of that has been promising. The big goal is some acting gig, on stage, preferably, but he’d take TV, too. He loves the attention, he loves the rush, he loves entertaining. Unfortunately he’s got a demonic aura that makes breathers nervous on principle. He knows if he could just get a break, he’d have a lot to give… but he’s maybe not working on getting that break as hard as he could be.

“Very nice,” Charles finally turns, and smiles, clearly approving. He sets a cup of coffee in front of his son, and BJ glances at it. “Be a pal and wake your mother up?” “This early? On a Saturday?” He squints. “You tryna take me out via Emily attack?” “We’ve got that check up to go to,” Charles says. “I don’t want to be late.”

He shrugs, takes the cup, and vanishes from sight, appearing upstairs, next to his mother. Emily is still wrapped in the bedsheets, snoring lightly, but he knows the trick to rousing her. The coffee cup is waved around her nose, allowing the aroma to hit her senses, and, eyes still closed, she reaches for it. He pulls the cup back.

“Come on, ma,” he scratches gently at her scalp. “Time to get up.” “Coffeeeee,” she groans, reaching at it blindly again, and he grins, and walks backwards, setting the coffee on the dresser, across the room. “Coffee’s over here, Deetzy,” he tells her, and she finally cracks an eye open, and groans. “Evil. Evil son.” “Yup,” he agrees, easily. “Come on. Chuck says you got some appointments to keep.” His mother groans, and kicks back the sheets, before standing.

He’d been twelve, and herself only about thirty when she’d found him, and now, ten years later, at 40, her age is showing, a little. She’s been growing in gray hair for the past few years, and it hasn’t taken over her natural sunshine yellow, but it’s becoming a bit more noticeable, and the slight lines forming around her mouth and eyes are a new addition to her features. Chuck’s aging in much the same way, but with fewer laugh lines. The hair at his father’s temples is going gray, and if he really looks, he can see the beginnings of salt and pepper in his father’s beard. He doesn’t like looking for it, though, and doesn't like the feeling gnawing in his guts at seeing his parents age. If he had his way, they’d stay frozen in time, the way he probably will. Demons don’t age, past a certain point, and he’s pretty sure he’ll be hitting it, soon enough.

He watches his mother shuffle across the floor, and claim her prize of coffee. She takes a long sip, and then groans. “I don’t want to go to the doctor,” she complains to him, and he pats her shoulder. “I know, ma,” he gives her a very sympathetic smile. “But you gotta. Or Chuckles will throw a fit. It’s just a check up, right? No biggie.” She rubs at her temple, and winces. “Getting old sucks,” she tells him. “I’ve been having the worst headaches, recently.”

When they make it back downstairs, Chuck's got breakfast going, and Lydia is sipping her own coffee. Black, like her heart, she always says. He passes her by and ruffles that mop of long blonde hair. “Beetle breath,” she greets him, as he takes a plate from Charles, and sits to eat.

The voice over work isn't as big a deal as he was hoping. He adjusts his tie, fiddles with the collar of his pinstripe dress shirt, and steps out of the booth. “Fuckin’ peanuts,” he complains, and his agent just shrugs. “Gotta start small, BJ. We need someone to do some crooning for this other comercial, some car sale, or something. You feel like playing Sinatra for a bit?”

Not especially, but he does it anyway, and then meets Adam and Barbara for lunch. Adam’s taking classes for business management, and he’s just about done. He wants to take over his grandpa’s hardware store, outside of the city. Way outside, actually, in some little town in Connecticut. They’ve got shared plans, shared dreams, and all of it hinges on this little store in this little town. BJ isn’t too worried. His boyfriend’s hobbies come and go, but Adam really, really enjoys woodworking, and getting to own a place like that sounds like getting to own his own playground.

Barbara, meanwhile, is stuck in clerical work, which she finds mind numbingly dull, but it's a steady paycheck, and it’s afforded her a ticket out of her dad’s place, so that’s something. She and Adam share a tiny studio apartment in Queens, and for all the time Betelgeuse spends there, he might as well live there, too. But three people in a studio isn’t any of their idea of a good time. Speaking of…

“I was on zillow, today,” Adam starts, and he and Barbara lean over with varying degrees of interest, as Adam shows them his phone. It’s a house, predictably, but a nice one. Old fashioned, and a little creeping looking. He likes it.

“She’s a bit of a fixer upper,” he says, admiring the house. “But the price is right, and look at all this character. Classic Queen Anne, with the original crown molding! Tons of space, lots of room for the three of us.” “Maybe a forth,” Barbara smiles brightly, and he matches her enthusiasm. She’s wanted to be a mom since he’s known her, six pretty amazing years, and while a lot has changed in that time, her maternal desire is as strong as ever.

“Maybe a fifth,” BJ grins, wiggling his eyebrows at her, and she flushes. “One from each of my boys.” She agrees, and she reaches across the table, for his hand, which he gives her. Adam takes her other hand, and they’re lost in that fantasy for a moment. He’s not actually sure he can give her what she wants, since he’s not exactly human, but Adam can, at least. And he gets to be part of it. Goddamn, he’s lucky.

“So? Tell us about this commercial you just did!” Adam smiles at him.

“S’not a big deal, just some radio ad,” He tells them, but he’s flattered that they’re always overly enthusiastic about his bit parts. “I heard you on the radio in the office, a few days ago!” Barbara remembers. “My coworkers couldn’t believe that was your real voice! You make such a good villain.” Of course he does. He keeps the smile on, because he knows Babs, knows that she means it in the sweetest, most lovey dovey way possible, but he’s never going to play the hero, because no hero sounds like a demon. He can’t get in his head about this, not right now. Not when the weather’s so nice, and he’s sitting across from the people he loves the most.

“I am the villain, babes,” he grins at her, and stands, leaning over to kiss and rub his stubble into her neck, until laughing, she pushes him away.

“Maybe you should come to the office with me, tomorrow,” Chuck says, over dinner. BJ resists the urge to stab himself through the eye with his fork. “M’not that into real estate, pop,” he tells him, and Emily smiles. “You know BJ’s an artist.” “I just think if he gave it a try,” Charles says, looking to his wife. “That he’d excel at it. I mean, good lord, all real estate is, is making deals and fast talking. He’s built for that sort of thing.” Betelgeuse grimaces. “But then I’d have to spend any amount of time around your coworkers, an’ those other big money creeps.” “Those big money creeps write the checks that paid for this house, BJ,” Chuck reminds him.

“I’ll be sure to send Maxie Dean a fruit basket.”

“Skip the fruit, just send that freak ass a basket of snakes,” Lydia says, and he grins. “Do not do that.” “Psh. Whatever, dad,” he pitches his voice into a teenage whine, and his father gives a dry smile in return. “So, that doctor appointment?” Lydia looks to Emily, and their mother smiles. “Got some scans done, no biggie. Checkups just suck. I’ve been having those migraines, recently, but the doctor didn’t seem to think it was a big deal.”

He’s staring down at his mother, in hospice, and those words echo around his mind. No big deal. The doctor didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. Just a couple migraines. Just some dizziness. Just some nausea. Just a tumor. Just another breather’s life, coming to an end.

Her bedroom is dark. The curtains are drawn. He’s sitting to her left, Lydia dozing to her right, and Emily is sleeping, dozing lightly. Chuck’s talking to the nurse in the hall. The last twelve months are a blur. He can’t remember individual days, can only remember when those test results came back. He remembers, vaguely, holding her hand during treatments. But there’s nothing any breather alive can do about the tumor, about the placement of it. At least she’s at home, at least she’s laying in her own bed. At least she’s not stuck in the hospital. Her sun colored hair is gone. Her smile is gone. That mischievous glint in her eyes is gone. All Emily does is sleep. All they can do is wait. read the rest of this chapter, plus the second one i couldn't help but post, over here, on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/32243065/chapters/79911316

[jjmaybanksbaby]

enamel pins, school dances and summer movie nights

or: alternatively, i hate everybody but you

pairing: kiara carrera x rafe cameron (platonic)

warning: cursing, underage drinking, some fighting, rafe cameron being sappy because that deserves a tw of its own

word count: 7.2k words

MASTERLIST

"I’m so glad that they’re still doing this. Keep calm. Carry on," Kiara said to the boys as she stuffed the change from their tickets back into her wallet.

It would have been an understatement to say that JJ and Pope hadn’t been eager to attend the outdoor movie night hosted by the Island Club. In fact, they'd spend thirty minutes listing all the things they would rather do when Kiara proposed the idea. She'd let them grumble about going for the better part of an hour since she knew there was no way the pogues would let her go to something on Figure Eight alone. Pogues always had each other's backs, always. Kiara figured the least she could do was pay their entry fee. Plus, she knew JJ and Pope didn't exactly have extra cash laying around for movie nights.

She would have dragged all three of the boys with her but John B hadn't been back to the chateau all day. Since the cell towers were still down thanks to the hurricane, she could only guess where he was.

"Welcome to the summer movie series. All proceeds go to...." The announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers as Kiara lead the boys to an empty space in the middle of the crowd.

"Back to OBX life. You know? Aren’t you guys glad that I made you come?" She really didn't have to ask, she was already sure of their answer.

"Ecstatic," Pope responded, his tone clearly lacking enthusiasm.

"My couch was pretty comfy, I’ll be honest," JJ echoed.

"We’re out of the green zone, man," Pope leaned over, commenting to JJ, out of earshot of Kiara. She didn't know about Topper's boat and Pope wasn't really interesting in bringing her in as another accessory to the crime.

"Dude, tranquilo, okay?" JJ whispered back.

"We're in the middle of Kooklandia. This is the last place I wanted to be."

"Shut up, Pope," JJ snapped, his wide eyes with warning. This was Kiara's thing, they weren't gonna let the Shakespearesque fued between Kooks and Pogues ruin her fun.

-

"Hey, uh…can I get two Pepsis, pleases?" Kiara asked the employee currently manning the snack bar.

"Sure," he replied.

Kiara slide the money for the sodas across the counter and took the cold drinks, watching Rafe slowly approaching from out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey, Kie," Rafe said. Kie felt her pulse spike at a nickname he'd originally given her. "Hey, what’s up? How are you?"

"I’m fine," she replied, intentionally angling her body away from him, her gaze resting anywhere but on him. For someone whose presence she uses to be able to relax in, now the sight of Rafe put her on edge.

"Good, good. Um...Tell your boy that we know what he did." Rafe held her stare and Kiara couldn't stop her lip from curling up in contempt.

"Sorry, what boy are you talking about?"

"Uh, he’ll know." Rafe smiled as if this conversation was bringing him some wicked sense of pleasure.

Rafe opened his mouth as to say something else but Kiara turned away from him. "Bye," he called to her as she walked away.

"Douche," Kiara said, loud enough that she was sure he would still hear her. She threw a glance over her shoulder, feeling Rafe's eyes still watching her.

-

Kiara handed Pope a Pepsi. "Just saw Rafe, and he said, and I quote, 'Tell your boy that we know what he did.' What is that?" She finished, handing JJ the second soda.

"Um...Where is he?" JJ asked back.

"Right there." Pope and JJ's heads turned around to look with her.

"Great the whole death squad," Pope said.

JJ grabbed the top of Pope's head, knocking his snapback off as he forced it forward. "Don’t stare, bro," JJ paused. "Just warning you, bro. If they corner me, I’m coming out swinging, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Pope agreed.

"Slice and dicin’. I’m on edge right now, okay? If that doesn’t work, I got this right here." JJ held up his worn backpack.

Fucking hell, Kiara thought. He brought the gun.

"Yeah, yeah. So, we just gotta stay in the group. They can’t come get us if we’re in the group," Pope remarked.

"Like a school of fish.”

"Stay in the school. Can’t leave the school. Stay in school," Pope repeated to himself.

"I’m sorry JJ…" Kiara interrupted. "Please tell me that you did not bring a gun here. JJ, there are kids."

"No Kie! I didn’t bring the gun. Everything’s fine, okay?" JJ assured, his frantic tone betraying him.

"Oh wow, thank you. That’s really convincing. I love that JJ." Kiara looked from JJ to Pope, trying to assess what kind of trouble they’d caused now. "Founding principle, you guys. No secrets amongst Pogues. What is Rafe talking about?"

Pope leaned it, bringing his face closer to Kiara's. "Kie, it might go down tonight."

"What does that mean?" Their vagueness was making Kiara extra suspicious. "'Might go down tonight.' What did y’all do?"

The boys look at each other, neither of supplying any answers to Kiara's questioning.

"Deny, deny, deny," JJ said quietly to Pope under his breath.

The opening score of The Addams Family cracked through the weathered speakers forcing an end to the conversation. A memory popped into Kiara’s head before she had time to stop it. This was Sarah Cameron’s favorite movie. Sarah used to mouth the lines along with the actors every time they watched it together.

There were a lot of glamorous parts of being best friends with the Kook-queen Sarah Cameron. When they walked down the shiny hallways of the Kook Academy literally arm-in-arm peoples' heads turned and watched them go by. All the mean girls with their once snarky remarks were suddenly complimenting Kiara's "unique style," begging her to tell them where she bought her clothes. (In truth, most of it was actaully thrifted since that was much more eco-friendly.) Plus there was the way Sarah swiped her Daddy's black card without a second thought. Kiara’s family lived on Figure Eight, they were a part of the Island Club but they would never have the kind of east coast old money the Cameron's had.

It wasn’t something Kiara usually minded. The whole money thing. Kiara never saw herself as less than because she didn’t wear a watch that cost as much as college tuition on her wrist. But it was more than that: Kiara never really saw herself as much of a Kook to begin. She didn’t want that lifestyle. She never had. It was her parents who pushed it on her. Her mom had grown up under the crystal chandeliers and ever-watchful eyes. She’d debuted into Outer Banks high society at the age of seventeen like every Kook at that age still did. An action which Kiara scoffed at. Her mom was fully prepared to be another success story of the ring-before-spring pipeline, returning to the Outer Banks after four years of college with an MRS degree and a husband who would be balding by his early forties.

But in a Hollywood-worthy meet-cute that involved one drunk sorority girl and her vodka-induced need for pancakes, Mike Carrera stumbled into Anna's life.

Mike Carrera was the opposite of Anna in every way that counted. His whole life had been hard work and grit, fighting for the things that were rightfully his and taking them when people still refused to hand them over. He had a pipe dream of owning his own restaurant, a borderline fantasy that he was dead-set on making sure came true. Anna loved him and he loved her right back. They eloped to Vegas the week after graduation even though own Anna’s mother was halfway through planning the wedding. They bought cheap rings and a second-hand dress since they were still living paycheck to paycheck. Though the bright lights of Vegas had made the impromptu wedding seem a bit more glamorous than it really was, they both knew deep down their love was the real thing. They promised each other till death do us part and meant it.

When Anna found out she was pregnant, she talked Mike into going back to the Outer Bank. Anna swore up and down the move was only so her parents could help with the baby. They'd live on the cut, work for what they deserved and be happy. Then Anna's parents bought them a house on Figure Eight as a wedding gift and Sunday dinners at the Island club became protocol. Anna slipped back into her life as a Kook and brought Mike with her. When the restaurant turned into the tourist hot spot, the zeros in their bank accounts started growing. The Carrera's got rich but their money could never compete with the trust-fond generational wealth of their fellow Kooks.

The Outer Banks only had one elementary school. All the kids on the island were thrown together at an age where no one yet realized the lines between the haves and have nots. Fifth grade was when it got messy. Every fall the class size heading to the Kildare County Middle School dropped by half when all the Kooks transferred to St. Andrews “Kook” Academy. A breeding ground for Ivy-league-bound eighteen-year-olds who lived with the cushions of their parents' bank accounts.

Kiara begged her parents not to make her go to the Kook Academy. She would have rather died than leave her best friends, Bea and Joey, who were both Pogues and staying at KDMS. She didn't realize that middle school would rip the three of them apart. By eighth grade, Kiara had her new friends. Pope Heyward, John B. and JJ Maybank, but he still went by Junior back then. Even if they were bothered by Kiara's status as half-Kook, in the same way Bea and Joey had been, they never showed it.

Mike and Anna didn't see the need to send Kiara to St. Andrews if she didn't want to go but as high school inched closed with every year, the whispers about the Kook in public school grew louder. The summer before freshman year, her parents offered her a deal - though it was hardly a fair one in Kiara's mind. She could either stay at Kildare County High School but she'd have to work in the restaurant in her free time or she could go to St. Andrews with complete freedom for a year. Kiara knew her parents wanted her to transfer so she caved and agreed to a year at St. Andrews to make them happy. Anna prayed her daughter would find her people at St. Andrews and that one year would turn into four but Kiara knew she had already found her people and was counting down the days till she could go back to them. It was only when Sarah Cameron decided the new girl might be cool that Kiara stopped marking each passing day with a big red x.

-

There was less than a week left in their Christmas break and Kiara was seated across from Sarah at the Cameron's dining room table bent over her practice problems for Mr. Harrings' freshman science. He infamously gave out the hardest pop quiz of the year the first day back after break and Kiara's grade couldn't take her failing it.

"What’s avocado’s number?” Sarah asked, looking up from her paper, her pen frozen in midair.

“What’s what?” said Kiara, thoroughly confused at Sarah’s question.

“You know,” Sarah paused, scanning Kiara’s face for any sign of understanding. “Avogadro’s number. Some kid in my class thought the dude’s name was avocado so we’ve been calling it avocado’s number since.”

“Ah, Avogadro’s number,” Kiara repeated, shifting her papers around until she found the one with all the formulas and constants written on it. “Six point zero two two one four zero seven six times ten to the twenty-second power.”

Sarah punched the numbers into her calculator. “Thanks, babes.”

“Of course.”

Rafe’s heavy footsteps carried through the Cameron’s massive house announcing his arrival home. He strolled into the room, a thick stack of papers in one hand and a garment bag draped over the opposite arm.

“Hey loser,” Sarah said, not inspired enough by her brother's presence to look up from her work.

“Hi Rafe,” Kiara echoed. "Where you been?"

"Being Ward's errand boy. I forgot the key to his office where I was supposed to drop off this contract so he's gonna kill me for that. But," Rafe paused digging into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet pouch. "Merry late Christmas," he finished, handing the bag to Kie. "I saw it and I thought you'd like it."

Kiara reached into the pouch pulling out a small enamel pin of the earth, shaped into a heart with the word "love" in silver written over it. Kie smoothed her thumb over the cold metal.

"You know since you're gonna save the planet and everything," Rafe added.

"Thank you. I love it!" Kiara jumped up from her chair, throwing her arms around his waist wrapping him a hug.

"No problem, Kie." Rafe said.

"Hey, I'm trying to save our planet too." Sarah pipped up.

"Shut up, Sarah," Rafe cracked. "I gave you your Christmas present last week."

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him, Rafe doing the same in return.

"What are you guys working on?" Rafe asked.

"Science," Kiara replied, reaching down to grab her backpack from underneath the table.

"Is that for Mr. Harrings' class?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," Kie said, half distracting by trying to decide which spot to put her new pin in.

"I think I might still have my old test from that class if you want them.”

Sarah's head snapped up at the offer. "No way."

"Sound any more surprised, Sarah. I was offering them to Kiara anyway, snob," Rafe shot back.

"I'll share," Kie assured her best friend.

Kiara followed Rafe up the grand staircase, flopping on Rafe's bed while he searched for his old work.

"Henry Spiegel was talking about taking you to a he formal in the locker room before we left for break," Rade relied from inside his closet.

"Isn't he the freshman who made varsity lacrosse?" Kiara asked back. She contemplated the idea of going to St. Andrews' Winter Formal with him. Henry was nice enough, plus he was pretty good-looking. She could stand going with him.

"I told him if I found out he'd asked you, I'd make sure he missed the next three games because of a black eye."

"Rafe."

"What? Do you really think I'm gonna let some dweeb with half a brain who only wants to get in your pants take my little sisters to formal?"

"Who am I supposed to take?” She shot back.

“I don’t know. Not him,” Rafe said, emerging, a small stack of papers in hand.

“You know Denny asked Sarah last week.”

“I know.”

Kiara paused, “You will you take?”

Rafe shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Maybe Ashely M. Seniors don’t really go to the actual dance.”

Kie took the pages of old test for Rafe’s outstretched arm and riffled through them. His name was scribbled on the top of each one in his messy handwriting.

Her eyes drifted up to the Duke basketball poster in the corner of Rafe’s room.

“When do you hear from them?” Kie asked.

“March,” said Rafe, his voice void of emotion.

“I know you’ll get in.”

"My dad'll make sure of it.” Rafe sat down on the bed next to Kiara.

“You don’t know that.”

“I found a card addressed to Ward from the Dean of Student last week thanking him for 'the generous donation from such a valued alumni.'”

Kie's head dropped to rest on Rafe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well he’s a dick.” Rafe’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, reading the text on the screen. “I gotta go. I told the boys we’d go hit at the Club tonight.”

“Thanks again for these.” Kie held up the papers. “And for the pin," she added.

“Mr. Harrings always includes the names of the scientists from the unit as bonus questions. Don’t forget to look those up,” Rafe said as he stood up from the bed. "See you around, Kie." He placed a small protective kiss on her forehead before he headed back downstairs.

-

"JJ?" Pope slapped JJ's shin to get his attention.

"What?" JJ whispered back over the sounds of the movie.

"I gotta take a piss.”

"Hold it."

"I can’t hold it. I drank too much soda."

"It’s too exposed. They’ll totally see us."

"I gotta go," Pope pleaded. He peered behind him to see Rafe, Topper, and Kelce still parked in the same spots at the back of the crowd. "They’re blocking the bathrooms," Pope added.

JJ looked around, thinking up a Plan B. "Alright. Come here. I know where.”

"Hey, where y’all going?" Kiara asked, turning her attention away from the movie.

"We gotta wring it out," JJ responded deadpan.

"What? You gonna hold it for each other," Kiara questioned, disgusted at the thought.

JJ shrugged off the comment and lead Pope through the crowd, the two of them ducking behind a large oak tree.

Kiara turned back to the movie playing on the giant screen, leaving the boys to their own devices. Besides, they wouldn't dare start something with all the people around. They were idiots but they knew better than that.

"Crap," Kiara cursed under her breath when Rafe trailed by Topper and Kelce brushed by her, heading in the same direction Pope and JJ had went. She watched their figures disappear behind the screen before she jumped up from her seat.

JJ's gun, the thought flew her mind.

She picked up his backpack with no intention to use it but better safe than sorry. Especially when it came to those Kooks in particular.

"Hey, kick his ass, Top!" Kiara heard Rafe yell as she rounded the corner.

Kiara felt a full-fledged panic run through her body as she took in the sight. Kelce had pinned JJ's arm behind his back and was Rafe pounded his fist into JJ’s face. A foot away, Pope was barely holding off Topper. Whatever Pope and JJ had done had obviously crossed a line.

Kiara ran in without another thought, swinging JJ's backpack in front of her. "Let go of him, Topper! Fascist asshole!" She screamed at him.

Topper grabbed the bag from her, ripping it out of Kiara's hand and throwing it aside. Kiara jumped on Topper's back, desperate to distract him.

"Hey listen, Pope," Topper yelled over the sounds of the movie. "All you gotta do is accept a little personal responsibility."

"Screw you, kook," Pope spit back.

Kiara felt arms wrap around her waist, yanking her off of Topper. The too-familiar scents of Rafe's cologne filled her nose and his breath was hot on her cheek.

She kicked her legs struggling against him, "Let go of me, Rafe."

"Stay out of this, Kiara," he warned, tossing her onto the ground. His gaze fixed on her for a second before turning away. Kiara swore she saw a look of guilt flash across Rafe's face, wordlessly apologizing for tossing her away so harshly but she didn’t have time to think about that while her boys were still in trouble.

"Kie! You okay?" Pope yelled, struggling against Topper who had wrapped his arm around Pope's neck.

"Come on, man. Just admit it," Topper shouted. "Admit you did it, bitch!"

JJ's backpack had conveniently landed close to where Kiara lay. She rolled over, pushing herself onto her knees and crawling over to the backpack. She riffled through it, her hand landing on the cold mental of the gun.

"You don't mess with me, Pogue! You hear me?" Topper continued. Kiara looked up at Topper's face which showed no signs of mercy. Meanwhile, Rafe's fist smashed into JJ's face again and again. The situation was getting worse by the second. “I'm gonna give you one chance. One chance, Pope. One chance. Come on! One!"

Kiara dropped the gun back into the backpack pulling out JJ's lighter instead, two Js craved onto the surface. She had to go big to stop Rafe, Topper and Kelce. Kiara crawled over to the edge of the sheet the movie was being projected off. Fuck, this has to work.

"Finish him off, Top!" Rafe directed.

Kie flicked on the lighter, the wind blowing out the flame the first few times. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed the edge of the sheet and held the blue flame up to it. The fire lit up her face as it took hold, spreading faster than she had expected. The crowd yelped, scrambling away as the orange flames climbed toward the sky.

"Guys! Fire!" Rafe yelled, taking in the sight.

"Get off of him!" Kie pushed Topper away from Pope who fell to the ground gasping for air. "Kelce, let go of JJ!"

"Let's get out of here," Rafe started, fleeing the scene. The other Kooks not far behind him.

"You good?" Kiara asked Pope helping him off the ground. "We're okay." She assured. Her heart was racing, her hands still shaking.

"You're a freakin' idiot," Pope responded.

"I saved your ass. Come on." Kiara threw her arm around Pope's shoulder, leading him away.

The sounds of the film continued to echo over the speakers as the sheet burned to ash behind them.

-

Kiara sat slumped against the wall of the St. Andrews hallway that lead into the cafeteria. The frill of her $200 dress fanned out around her. The dress, in her opinion, had been a colossal waste of money but had Sarah actually squealed when Kiara walked out of the fitting room in it. Kiara had tugged at the awkward way the skirt st on her hips but Sarah wouldn’t shut up about how perfectly the blue color fit the Winter Wonderland theme so Kiara bought it. Now, the sequins itching against her collarbone were just annoying her and Kiara couldn’t help scratching at them, making the already red marks on her skin even angrier. She was so fucked. Denny had pulled out a flash during pictures and somehow it kept ending up in Kiara's hands. The whole dance thing had Kiara incredibly anxious so she kept taking sips of the flash to keep her self busy. First during pictures, then during dinner, and in the limo on the way to the school. Now the flask was lying empty on the floor next to her and her nerves were no less settled.

She longed for her pogues so much the pain of missing them made her stomach hurt. Well, that or the alcohol. At that moment, she would have given anything to be back with them. Back with Pope and his overly nervous tendencies, back with John B. and his ideas that usually lead them into trouble, back with JJ and his flirtatious banter that left her blushing a lot more than she cared to admit. They were her family, where she belonged. Not in the gated communities of Figure Eight with mansions so big they had rooms no one entered for weeks. This whole year had been a mistake. She couldn't stand the fakeness of everybody and everything that came as a side effect to bank accounts with the kind of zeros that could seriously help if the 1% gave up being so selfish. Even Sarah's save-the-sea-turtles-with-men façade was fading away revealing another rich kid who didn’t give a shit about who she hurt. 

The doors of the cafeteria swung open, the bass of the DJ's music filling the previously silent hallway. Kiara looked up to find Rafe jogging down the hall to her.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, sliding down the way to sit next to her.

"The room kept spinning and...uh...I thought I might throw up so I went to find a bathroom," Kiara answered.

"You know the bathrooms are on the other side of the school?"

Kiara giggled which turned into a little burb which made her giggle even more.

"Jesus, Kiara. How drunk are you?" Rafe picked up the flask from the ground. He could smell the alcohol on her breath without even getting closer over. “Who's is this?"

Kiara paused for a moment, trying to remember. "Denny's."

"Sarah's date, Denny?"

Kiara nodded her head.

"Fuck," Rafe muttered. "Okay, let's get you out of here before any of the chaperons see and write you up." He stood up and held out both hands to held Kiara to her feet too.

Kiara pulled herself, leaning against Rafe for stability. The doors swung open again and Rafe's date marched into the hallway.

"Ugh, thank God. There you are. This dance is so lame. C'mon, we're all going to Joey's."

"I'm not coming. I have to take my sister home. She's totally trashed."

The girl's eyes moved over Rafe's face, landing on Kiara. "No," she corrected. "You're my date. You have to come with me."

"Did you not just hear me? I'm taking my sister home," Rafe replied.

"Are you kidding me? She's not even your real sister. She's hardly even a real Kook. I bet she's just using Sarah and you for your family's money. Just look at her dress. It's the same one every other wannabe trying-to-hard freshman has on. Pathetic."

Rafe pulled Kiara closer into him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder protectively. "You can fucking leave," Rafe spit back. "I don't wanna hear you ever talk about my family like that again."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I was gonna hook up with Brandan tonight anyway. He's way hotter than you." She spun on her, stalking off in the same direction she had come.

Kiara looked up at Rafe, her bottom lip shaking as tears welled in her eyes. "Are you mad at me?" She asked.

Rafe laughed. "Of course not, Kie. Ashley can go fuck herself. Or she can go fuck Brandan. I don't really care." He wiped away the tear that had slide down Kiara's cheek. "Let's go find Sarah so I can take you both home."

-

Sarah was sitting on her date's lap back inside the cafeteria turned South Pole for the night, laughing loud enough at Denny’s shitty jokes that it was throughly annoying everyone around her.

"Get up Sarah," Rafe commanded.

Sarah surprised at Rafe's sudden presence scrambled off her date's lap. Rafe reached down and grabbed a fistful of Denny's shirt. He cocked his arm back and swung his fist straight into Denny's nose which gave a definitive crack on impact. Sarah let out a gasp and rushed forward.

"What the fuck?" She screamed at Rafe, shoving him off her date.

"You're date's an ass. Kie's completed wasted thanks to him" he said to Sarah. "Let's go. I'm taking you both home."

Sarah glanced at Kiara, who was standing slightly behind Rafe feeling both embarrassed at how much she had drank and grateful for Rafe's protectiveness.

"But I wanna go to the afterparty," Sarah protested. "She has you." Sarah's eyes locked with Kiara and Kiara's heart sank. She could tell her "best friend" wasn't about to give up the rest of her night just because she was nervous and had drunk too much.

Kiara shifted awkwardly on her feet. Sarah could have a least pretended to be conflicted, considered missing the party for a second. God, Kiara missed the unwavering faithfulness of her pogues.

Kiara tugged on Rafe's hand and he glanced over his shoulder at her. "It's fine," she slurred. She really needed out of this itchy disaster of dress as soon as possible.

"You're a really great friend," Rafe said to Sarah.

"Whatever," Sarah replied, her voice almost mimicking the way Rafe's date had said the same words. "Let's go find some ice for your nose, Denny."

-

They had found the gold. It was fifty feet down a well under an ax-murders house no less but they'd fucking found it. John B's crazy plan had worked and all they needed to do was get the gold out, a job which had effectively been delegated to Pope. Of course, first they had to wait for John B to get back from his fishing trip with Ward Cameron, some twisted form of pseudo father-son bonding. What was it with men and finishing? Couldn’t they pick a sport that didn’t actively destroy the environment?

Pope sat atop the kitchen counter, a pencil tucked behind his ear, his mouth moving as he made silent calculations. JJ stood in the doorway of the chateau, dripping water from the hot tub onto the floor. Kiara had thrown off the couch cushions and was rifling through the desk draws, slamming each one with frustration when they didn't hold what she was looking for. Kiara noticed this morning that a pin was missing from her backpack. It didn’t seem like a big deal but with every passing second her panic escalated.

“What are you looking for, bro? I swear this house is like one of those Where’s Waldo? books.” JJ asked Kiara.

“Did you just make a reference to a book, JJ?” Pope chimed in from across the room.

“Just because I chose not to read, doesn’t mean I can’t Pope,” JJ replied.

“Both of you are idiots. It’s a picture book anyway, you don't read it. Can you help me find my pin, please? It's the one I've always had on my backpack. The earth, shaped like a heart," Kie explained.

"Right," Pope replied, sliding off the counter where he was sitting. “Why do you care about it so much anyway?”

“It was a gift."

“From who?”

“From someone at the Kook Academy.”

“Sarah?”

“No.”

“You had other friends there?” JJ mocked.

Kie hesitated. “Fine, it was actually from Rafe as a Christmas present.”

JJ and Pope automatically stopped and looked up at each other.

“Bro, please tell me this isn’t the same Rafe who almost beat Pope’s face in last week."

“It’s not about Rafe. It’s about the pin,” Kie said.

“That’s from Rafe,” Pope finished.

“You guys weren’t there. You don’t get it. Whatever," she huffed. “Don’t help me find it then.”

“No, please Kie. Enlighten us," the sarcasm dripped off JJ's voice.

“I said you don’t have to help,” Kie repeated.

“Hey Kiara,” Pope said, grabbing her wrist. He was always the first to tell when something was off with her.

Kiara shrugged him off, wiping away her tears with her tshirt hem before the other pogues saw them.

“There was just this time,” she started, still overturning books like the pin might have been under there. “At a dance. This senior called me a fake Kook. She said my dress looked tacky like I was trying way too hard to fit but I would never fit in because I’d always be a fucking Pogue. Which of course I don’t wanna be a Kook, I was just playing dress-up for the year to please my parents and it’s like she saw straight through. Rafe was there. Like an older brother. Told her to go fuck herself. That if she ever talked about me like that again, he’d tell the whole she had an std.” Kie paused to wipe her runny nose. “He was basically my family so when Sarah dropped me like I was nothing I was sure that meant Rafe didn’t think I was worth his time anymore too. I never reached out to him again and now he just looks at me the same way he looks at every other Pogue.”

Pope cleared his throat, clearly mildly uncomfortable with Kiara’s sudden expression of emotion. It was an almost unspoken rule among the four of them that they didn’t talk about Kie’s kook year. It had sucked, bottom line. She’d shown back up the summer after ninth grade and it was the four of them again just like middle school. No one had the guts to ask about anything that had happened that year so it never got brought up.

JJ couldn't stop himself from remembering what Rafe had said at Midsummers. Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a Pogue. Fucking jackass. If he'd been like a brother to Kie, of course he'd know just how to hit her where it hurt.

JJ clinched his fist, wishing security hadn't pulled him away before he'd gotten a chance to swing at Rafe that night. “I still hate him,” JJ announced. “The entire Cameron family thinks they're the shit because they eat from golden spoons or something."

"The expression is born with a silver spoon in their mouth but JJ's right. All Kook’s suck," Pope added.

-

Rafe had wrestled off Kiara's heels after she almost face-planted in the school parking lot on the way to Rafe's truck thanks to them. He'd gotten up her all the back to the Cameron's house and in the front door successfully without her throwing up. Rafe tried to get Kiara to walk up the stairs but she'd sat down on the bottom declaring she would just sleep there so Rafe had delicately thrown her over his shoulder and didn't put her down until he dropped her on Sarah's bed.

Kiara closed her eye instantly and hummed softly, pleased with the comfortable spot she'd landed.

"No sleeping yet. You gotta drink some water first. Hold on."

Rafe dashed across the hall to his own room and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen from his bathroom for Kiara in the morning. He also snatched the half-drunk water off his nightstand. It wasn't the best option but it was something.

"Okay, okay. Sit up," he said to Kiara, setting the water and medicine down on the bedside table.

Kiara grumbled but pushed herself upright until her back was against the headboard.

"I'm so happy you're my big bro," she said, reaching out her hand to tousle Rafe's hair. "It's always just been my mom and dad and me. And my turtle, Leo, before I lost him." Kiara felt tears wetting her cheeks again at the thought of her lost pet. "I just thought he might wanna play in the yard but then he ran off." The crying made Kiara hiccup which made her cry even more. "He ran off, Rafe. Turles aren't supposed to be fast.”

Rafe couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I didn't peg you as a sad drunk," he said, putting a hand on Kiara's shoulder to calm her down. "It's okay, Kie. I'm sure Leo is just fine."

Her sniffles stopped momentarily and she looked up at Rafe through her tear-soaked eyelashes. “You know no one ever called me Kie before you did. Now everyone does."

Rafe chuckled. "Alright, drink some water and you can sleep."

Kiara accepted the water bottle and pressed it to her lips, taking a swig. "You promise you're not mad at me? About Ashely and the dance?"

"I promise, Kie. I'd much rather make you sure you're okay."

"You're getting soft, Rafe," Kiara teased as she snuggled herself under the sheets.

"Never," he replied, reaching over and clicking off the lamp on the bedside table before he stood up. "Hollar if you think you're gonna throw up."

"Never," Kie repeated, giggling to herself as Rafe left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

-

John B's face was plastered on wanted posters up and down the island. The entire county was looking for him, desperate to be the first to claim the twenty-five thousand dollar reward. The wholesome treasure hunt John B. has advertised to the Pogues at the beginning of the summer had gone way south, like equator-level south. None of them had eaten a decent meals in days, much less slept more than few hours. The whole thing was taking its toll but the stacks were too high for them to slip up now. They all knew the odds. John B's word would never stand against Ward's. They had to get him off the island.

JJ and Kiara pulled up the boatyard, the keys to the Phantom clutched so tightly in JJ's palm that they left little indentions. He'd emerged from his house, his jaw set and only held up the keys in response to Kiara asking how it went so she decided not to push him on it.

JJ shoved open the rusty metal door of the garage. "There she be. Hey, girl," he remarked. "1983 formula four-oh-two SR1." JJ pulled the sheet covering the boat off, the sunlight streaming in through the windows making the dust lingering in the air visible. "The Phantom," JJ announced proudly.

"Mmhm," Kie hummed.

"First boat to make the run to Bermuda in under sixteen hours, Kie," JJ paused. "Forty years old! Forty. And it's still the fastest thing that Kildare's ever seen."

"It's kind of a junker."

"Really?" JJ turned to her. "She's right there, Kie. She can hear you. Let's just put it this way. You would not be smokin' weed right now if she never existed, okay?"

"I just hope it runs," Kie replied.

"Oh, no, she'll run alright. She's faster than any of the cutters the boy in blue got."

The sounds of motorcycle engines roared from outside the garage.

"Pope. Finally," Kie exclaimed, jogging to meet him. Hopefully, the Outer Banks sun had burned off any weirdness still lingering from this morning, she prayed.

Rafe appeared from behind the boat and Kiara stopped suddenly, not expecting the sight of him.

"Hey, there. What's goin' on? JJ?" Rafe said and JJ also froze at the sound of the eldest Cameron's voice. "How you guys doin'?”

Barry whistled, announcing his own arrival. "Well, well...." The sounds of a gun cocking send the blood rushing to Kie's ears. JJ raised his hands in the air, backing up as Barry pushed the gun to his chest. "See, don't think I forgot about me and you on the side of the road. I'm here because I want my motheruckin' money."

Barry grabbed the side of JJ's face, shoving him to the ground. "JJ! JJ!" Kie screamed as Rafe pulled her back from the scene. "Rafe!" Kiara struggled against Rafe’s taller and stronger physique.

"That's what I'm here for, ain't it," Barry shouted lifting JJ's head up by his hair.

"It's not you we want, Kie. Alright, Where's John B?" Rafe asked.

"I don't know," she screamed back, her hand slapping Rafe's face on instinct.

"I really wish you didn't do that.”

"Look, I know what you did.” Kie’s voice wavered.

"What? What'd I do?" Rafe's face inched closer to hers.

"You murdered Peterkin."

Rafe's hand flew up to Kiara's throat, wrapping his fingers tight around it. Kiara's mouth fell open in a silent scream as she clawed at his hand. "Don't you ever say those fucking words again," Rafe warned.

"Rafe," Kiara pleaded. Eighteen months later and Kiara could tell Rafe didn’t have a single ounce of warmth left for her. The Rafe that had protected her from handsy freshman boys and made her drink water so her hangover wasn't as bad, the Rafe that had once held a deep sibling-like affection for her was gone, replaced by someone with pure blinding disdain for pogues of any kind.

"Understood? Do you understand? Where's John B? Where's John B?" Rafe asked again, his tone growing impatient

"I don't know," Kie yelled. Rafe’s hand was growing tighter around her throat with every word, forcing tears to her eyes. Fuck this. Rafe Cameron wasn’t about to be the thing that killed her. This rich, white asshole couldn’t get away with two murders.

"Where's John B? Huh?"

"I don't know! I don't know!"

Rafe's hand fell away from her throat suddenly. "Don't touch her," Kiara heard Pope screamed, his voice full of rage as he swung a metal pole into Rafe's back. The look on his face was something Kiara had never seen before from Pope. It sent a chill down her spine.

"Hey!" Barry yelled as he attempted to throw his gun to Rafe but it landed on the ground a few feet short.

"Kie! Kick it!" JJ hollered and the gun disappeared under the boat out of reach.

JJ picked up Barry slamming him into the boat. Pope's fist continued to connect with Rafe’s face. Again and again. Crap, he wasn’t stopping.

"Pope," Kie said. "Okay, Pope. Pope! Pope, that's good! Stop!"

JJ, having thrown Barry aside, moved to pull Pope off Rafe. "Hey, Pope! He's had enough, dude."

"He's good." Kie pleaded as Pope reached for a piece of plastic tubing, pulling it tight around Rafe's neck.

"Snap out of it, man. Snap out of it, dude!" JJ said.

"Pope!" Kie yelled again. "Pope, that's too much!"

"Stop, dude," JJ added. "Dude, cmon! Stop! Stop, dude!"

"Pope! Get off!" Kie desperately tried to make eye contact with him

"Let go! Come on!"

"Look at me!" Kie screamed in one final attempt to stop Pope from going to far. Rafe's face was already turning a concerning shade of red. If Pope crossed this line, Kiara feared there would be no coming back. She already had one fugitive to deal with, she didn’t want another.

Pope dropped the tubing, eyes wide with fear.

"Shit. Oh, shit." JJ said.

Rafe coughed from the floor, blood smeared down his chin.

"Okay, we gotta go. We gotta go." Kiara announced, hustling back the car. They had to get the boat ready for John B. They had to get him off the island. Her Pope-like organizational instincts kicked in protecting her from processing anything that had just happened. Letting her forget the look in Rafe’s eyes as his hand closed around her throat. Three o’clock at the dump. They had to stay on schedule. Three o’clock. Three o’clock. Three o’clock.

-

The single yellow heart Sarah had responded to Kiara's ‘Happy Birthday!’ text with stared back at her mockingly. She closed out of her messages, opening Instagram instead. Story after story showed the party she hadn't been invited to. A shaky video of everyone singing to Sarah, her face lit up by the glow of the candles. A bathroom selfie of all the girls who Kiara had through became her closest friends, their faces flushed red with joy. She clicked the side button of her iphone making the screen going black. Kiara couldn't stand to look at it all happening for another minute. She flopped backward on her bed opting to stare at the plain, white ceilings of her bedroom instead.

She should have been, standing by Sarah's side, smiling along with everyone in a tipsy haze of happiness, not watching it happen via Instagram. Kiara knew she wasn't doing anything productive by throwing herself a pity party but God, she was pissed. She wanted Sarah to know it too. She picked up her phone from where she'd dropped it next to her on the comforter.

The line rang twice before a voice answered the call.

“Kildare County Police, what’s the emergency?”

Kiara hesitated. Sarah was sure to figure out it was her who had ratted on the party and that would be social suicide enough. But Sarah really had brought this on herself. She should have invited to Kie to her fucking birthday.

“Hello? Anyone there?” The operator asked.

Kiara brought the phone back up to her ear. “Hi, I’d like to file a noise complaint, please. Two six six St. Margaret Street.”

“Yes, the Cameron’s house,” Kiara confirmed, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks and steading her voice as she relied the rest of the information to the operator.

Happy birthday to you, Sarah Cameron.

taglist! @surferkie

[scullydubois]

Only the Light ch. 6

read on Ao3 here. read earlier parts here.

This was getting quite long, so I decided to cut what I planned to be chapter 6 in half. I’ll try to keep the chapters a bit shorter than they have been cause I know lots of people prefer that. Anyway, that means I’m now almost done with chapter 7 so that’ll be posted in a couple days too. 

Please let me know what you think in the tags or message me! I’d love to know if you think something like this should have been canon or even if you think it was canon, just not shown to the audience (is that possible? haha). 

Description: As Mulder and Scully begin their investigation in Aubrey, Scully finds herself sympathizing with the detective who found the bones more than she would prefer to.

*includes a few lines of dialogue from season 2, ep 12 “Aubrey.” Credit to Sara B. Charno, writer of that episode!*

WC: 2595 words

tagging @today-in-fic​. Thanks for all you do!

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

Scully stares at the bones on the autopsy table in front of her. She has always been capable of separating her feelings from her work. Too good at it, even. But right now, looking at these bones that have been in the ground since before she was even born, all she can think about is how they once were a living, breathing person’s. A partner. A son. An FBI agent just like her. She had narrowly escaped a similar fate. How? What made her survive while this man became a bundle of bones to be poked and prodded? She knows she shouldn’t dwell on it, but sometimes she wonders if her luck would stop if her overthinking did. 

Mulder mentions the killer the detective was investigating. Three victims, all young women between twenty-five and thirty. Scully’s current demographic. He doesn’t say that part, of course, but Scully’s thinking it, and perhaps he is too. The word ‘sister’ was carved onto their chests, then painted on the wall with their blood. That could have been her. 

Nevermind that she wasn’t alive in 1942, let alone living in Missouri. Horrific, misogynistic crimes had been happening well before she was born, and they would happen well after. Scully had no doubt something like this could happen to her at any time. A petite, female FBI agent? She would be the perfect victim.

She had been the perfect victim. And she survived! But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t victimized by all of it. Surviving doesn’t mean living. She is coming to terms with this. It is like going through it all over again.

She lifts one of the rib bones, runs her fingers over it. The rubber gloves catch on a series of tiny cuts down the length of it. Were these a result of decades underground, or had these been inflicted before the detective bled to death? She shivers at the thought.

“Scully?” Mulder’s voice anchors her back in reality. 

She turns around. “Yes?”

“Are you cold?”

He had seen. He grips the edges of his jacket, prepared to place it on her shoulders at a moment’s notice.

She shakes her head. “No. I was just imagining being cut like this.” She points to the razor marks, each one a separate wound. 

Mulder winces. “Do you think that’s what killed him?”

Scully turns the bone over in her hands. It has known pain, and she can almost feel the ghost of it in the marrow. 

“I don’t know,” she says, meaning it. “That would be a horrific way to die.”

“Most ways are,” Mulder replies, not missing a beat. They stand there, this dead body adjacent to them, thinking about death, and life, and what it means to be a person. What a situation they have gotten themselves into. 

A few minutes later, they are looking at computerized scans of the bones when BJ, the detective who dug them up, enters. She asks Mulder a question about the case, but doesn’t seem to listen to his answer. It’s like she’s in a trance.

Just as quickly as she arrived, she goes, excusing herself and staggering out of the room. Mulder and Scully exchange a glance like two gossiping high schoolers. Wordlessly, Scully follows after BJ. She finds her in the women's restroom rinsing her mouth. A pang of guilt circulates through Scully’s insides. She and Mulder have involved themselves in something that is, frankly, none of their business, but it’s too late to back out now.

“Feeling better?” she asks, holding a clean paper towel out for BJ, who ignores it and pulls one from the dispenser herself.

“I’m fine now.” This is all she offers. 

Scully has given this answer enough times to know that BJ is most definitely not fine. She considers her options: she could respect BJ’s hostility toward her, pretend she saw nothing, & return to Mulder, or she could probe further into the situation and try to comfort BJ. She knows the terror that BJ must be feeling.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” The words leave Scully’s mouth before she registers deciding to say them. 

The terror surfaces on BJ’s face. “Does it show?”

“No, not yet,” Scully reassures, patting the detective on the shoulder. She will try to be the comfort she wishes she had at the moment. The comfort she knows she could have, but...

BJ interrupts her train of thought--”Now I know why my mother only had one child. She told me about the nausea, but not about the nightmares.”

Scully blinks. There’s that pang of guilt again. “Nightmares?”

BJ nods. “It's always the same. I'm in a house, it feels familiar. There's a woman that's been hurt. There's a mirror... I see a man's reflection. I recognize his face, but I don't know it. What I remember most is the blood.” She looks up at Scully with desperate eyes. “There's a lot of blood.”

Scully swallows. Hard. She can feel acid in her throat, the contents of her stomach threatening to follow BJ’s lead. She’s glad to be in the bathroom. Nightmares are not a particular indication of pregnancy, she knows this. But she also knows that changing hormone levels can trigger vivid, sometimes upsetting dreams--she had not connected those dots until just now.

“Have you talked to anyone about these nightmares?” Scully asks.

BJ shakes her head. “I'm sure it's something about the pregnancy. If anyone else knew I was pregnant…” She trails off in a way that makes Scully ache for all the women that have ever feared their own body, herself included. There could be no worse betrayal than one’s own body.

“Brian would kill me if I told anyone,” BJ finishes. Her fear is evident in her voice. Scully packs as much sympathy as she can into her glance at BJ. 

“Thank you for opening up,” she says. “I’m sorry about your situation. Let me know if I can help.”

BJ nods in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything. She lingers near the sink, as if waiting for the bell to dismiss her.

Scully can feel her uncertainty. “I won’t tell anyone,” she reassures.

BJ releases a breath. “Thank you. I need to...sort things out.”

“I understand.” Scully offers her a soft smile. BJ reciprocates, then quietly exits the bathroom.

Scully stands there a moment, hands in her pockets, heart in her throat. Then the queasy feeling passes, and she moves on.

She returns to the office and takes a seat next to Mulder. He’s gobbling some cookies while the computer analyzes the cut patterns on the bones. It is interesting what their line of work does to them; how it desensitizes them to the most gruesome of wounds, the most horrific of situations. She sometimes forgets that ordinary people don’t play doctor on dead bodies for a living, or chase phantoms, or get abducted by--well, plenty of people claim that’s happened to them. And she doesn’t see why, considering how unpleasant it all was. Is. Maybe that’s why people talk about it, because they just want someone to believe them, someone to know, but Scully’s mind has never worked that way. It’s exactly the kind of thing she’d like to forget forever and never share with anyone else. How shameful to get caught up in myths like that.

Mulder lifts an eyebrow, expecting a report on BJ. 

Scully shrugs. “Food poisoning.”

“Yuck. Remind me not to have what she’s having,” he wisecracks.

Scully’s teeth clamp down on her tongue. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, Mulder,” she says, a knowing edge to her voice. She wishes she could say the same about herself. 

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

They return to their motel after sunset. Mulder walks Scully to her door- number 13, to the right of his--and parts ways with her chastely, telling her he’s planning to set his alarm for 7am and saying goodnight. 

“Night, Mulder,” she says, twisting her key in the lock and pushing hard against the door stuck from humidity. She casts one final smile his way before entering her room, shutting and locking the door behind her.

Mulder turns his key in his room’s lock, but waits for Scully to disappear into the safety of her room before opening his own door. He is not going to lose her again.

Relieved to be in a space of her own after a long day of traveling and consorting, Scully switches on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room. One queen-sized bed with a plaid comforter, a boxy TV with an antenna, a flimsy wooden desk, and a bathroom about three Scully steps deep. It is not much, these lodgings never are, but at least it’s not coming out of her paycheck. She pulls her badge from her jacket pocket and throws it on the bed. It does a backflip against the mattress. She shimmies off the jacket then, folding it up and setting it in the side of her suitcase reserved for the dirty laundry. One time Mulder saw the way she organized her suitcase and laughed. He’s more accustomed to throwing his worn clothes in a garbage bag...or just wearing them over again. 

The shoes come off next, lined up neatly by the door. She craves a shower. After spending the day with decades old bones, she is in need of a baptism. 

She flicks the bathroom light on, and the fluorescent bulb buzzes in protest. There’s no telling when this motel was built; the wall is supposed to be light blue, but entire sections of paint have chipped away into an aged white exterior. Fissures snake through nearly every square of the floor’s tile like they’re there for decoration. Scully looks for her reflection in the mirror and gets the blurry outline of a woman instead. The mirror is somehow permanently fogged. 

She ponders the science of that while she pulls back the shower curtain and turns the knob for hot water. It spurts noisily out of the faucet, interrupting her peace. Speaking of interrupting her peace...she remembers that she forgot to leave Missy the number for the motel. She is not used to someone keeping such close tabs on her. She switches off the water and heads for the phone.

She dials the number, her own number--now her sister’s too--and waits. One ring, then another, then Missy’s steady voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Missy. It’s me. I forgot to leave the number, I’m sorry.”

“So I take it you’re not coming home tonight?” She knew her sister never was, but she’ll milk it anyway. 

“No, we got a motel.”

“You already had the reservations, didn’t you?” Melissa inquires. “Or else how would you leave the number?”

Scully rolls her eyes, though she knows her sister can’t see it. Missy can probably sense it anyway. 

“We did, but we would have cancelled them if we didn’t need to stay. It looks like we’re taking the case.”

“Is it an interesting one, or can you not say cause it’s vital to the security of the nation or something,” Melissa teases.

“It’s pretty freaky, but nothing really supernatural. Just your run of the mill humans hurting other humans.”

“Hmm...I thought the suspect had to be like, a werewolf, to qualify as an X-file.”

Scully smiles. “Well, it’s like Scooby-Doo. You always think the culprit is some crazy creature, but then you unmask them and it’s just a cranky old man.”

“Even worse!” Missy quips.

Scully laughs. Her sister’s right. At this point, she’d be relieved to find out that the worst atrocities of humanity were not committed by humans after all, but by some beast with no morals, just instinct. Maybe she’d feel less guilty if she didn’t have to atone for all the sins she’s seen. If they weren’t the sins of humanity. 

“Anyway, you’ve got this number now, so just ask for room 13 if you need me. Or room 14 if you want to prank call Mulder, I don’t care. I’m about to hop in the shower, but did you have a good day?”

“Uh yeah, work was busy and I just got home a little bit ago. I’m waiting on some pad thai from that restaurant you suggested. Probably gonna veg out, watch some Golden GIrls, maybe do a face mask.”

“You’re living a life of luxury,” Scully murmurs.

“Very much so. How was your day?”

“It was...good.” Her voice rises unevenly between the words.

“That’s a ringing endorsement.” 

Scully can hear the hollow noise of Missy twirling the phone cord around her finger.

“The first day on a case is always a bit overwhelming,” she assures. “We’ll get through it.”

“I’m sure you will,” Missy replies with a flat voice, not at all impressed by her sister’s answer. 

“We always do.” There’s a note of optimism in her voice. The statement is more of a prayer than a reassurance. 

“Well, come home safely, okay? I’m not used to sleeping in a big city by myself.”

“I’ll be home as soon as possible,” Scully says, not holding herself to any safe returns. 

“You’d better.” The cheekiness in Missy’s voice takes Scully back to the conversations they had when Scully had just moved to college and would recount the titillating tales of living in a co-ed dorm. Having never had such an experience, Melissa would live vicariously through her stories, and Scully would realize that her sister would make much better use of the situation than she ever did. “Love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Missy,” she says with some weariness. She puts the phone in the receiver, closes her eyes, and wonders how many times she’s uttered that exact phrase. Twenty-nine years worth, so the number’s got to be high.

She returns to the bathroom, feeling significantly grungier than just a few minutes ago. She repeats the routine with the water, slipping off her pants and blouse as the room steams up. By the time her bare skin hits the water, sweat is sliding down the ugly walls.

Usually the motels they stay in don’t have very warm water, so this is a treat. She doesn’t usually take hot showers, seeing them as wasteful somehow. Maybe she subconsciously doesn’t want to increase her water bill. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t apply right now, and every muscle in Scully’s body softens as the water runs down it. Touch. How many times had she been touched today? Surely this is one of the only instances featuring a force with any life in it. It's the most intimate too. She ravishes in it. 

There’s a noise, or rather, a sudden absence of noise, and Scully realizes that Mulder’s shower is on the other side of the wall and he has just turned off the water. She pictures him on the other side of the tile, naked and dripping wet. Slick all over. If only she had x-ray eyes... This is what partners do, isn’t it? She has goosebumps despite the temperature of the water. 

She blinks her eyes closed, holds her breath, and tilts her face toward the showerhead. Baptism. Rebirth. New beginnings. The chance to make up for missed opportunities.

She carries this energy with her through the rest of the night. Through buttoning her silk pajamas from hips to collarbone, through towel-drying her hair because she left her blow dryer for Melissa, through flipping the channels and finding nothing but reruns she never cared to watch in the first place, and through dozing off with her hair cascading off the pillow. Not all nights are as delightfully simple as this.

---thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!!

[one-leaf-grimoire]

crocodile tears

Chapter 1: in which marina has the worst day of her life

Hi! And welcome! Yes, I am publishing the first chapter of this fic on my Black Clover blog, I know it’s a little bizarre. Ahem. Anyway- I hope you guys will read this and enjoy it if you like jojo! I know there’s plenty of overlap between these two fandoms. DM or inbox me if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

Synopsis: Marina considers herself to be a normal teenager, despite both being the daughter of a senator and the center of many bizarre happenings throughout her life. However, everything gets turned upside down when her whole family is kidnapped. In that moment of fear, something within her awakens. Little does she know, this power is called a Stand, and she has caught the eye of the worst person imaginable. Marina must learn to master her stand, and decide where her loyalties lie: with the man who saved her life or with her newfound friends?

Warnings: Violence, frightening scenes, language, and Dio being toxic lol

March 6th, 1988

Cool water enveloped her body. Everything was cloaked in a sea green haze.

She was laying on the bottom of the riverbed, staring up at the muted sun. A crocodile swam by, almost lazily. It did not notice her, and she didn't feel scared.

It was just a crocodile.

"Marina... Marina, wake up already!"

Something cold and clammy grasped the 17-year-old girl's foot. Marina let out a scream and quickly recoiled under the soft white linens on her bed. "Five more minutes, mom!"

Marina’s mother scowled at her only daughter. She was already dressed in long, light pants and a tropical looking shirt. An over-sized hat adorned her head atop dark brown hair, a few shades lighter than her only daughter's. "Marina, we have five minutes before the ship docks. Dad's already gone up to eat."

"Well, that's just Dad," the girl grumbled back, pulling the covers more tightly around her shoulders, as if this cocoon would keep her safe from her mother's impending wrath. "He gets up early every day, that shouldn't mean that we also have to be up at the crack of dawn."

"It's not the crack of dawn, it's nearly ten o'clock already. The ship is running a little early, so we'll have more time to explore Alexandria."

Marina's only reply was a grunt. Her mother sighed. "What is it with you this morning?" She shook her head and swung her bag over her shoulder. "I'll be up on the top deck watching us dock. It's nice and warm outside, so dress accordingly. We'll see you in five minutes, or it's going to be a very long time before you get to go on another cruise, young lady." A few moments later, and the door shut.

Marina groaned and finally blinked her eyes open, immediately feeling the pounding pain of a migraine wash over her temple. Ouch... did I have a nightmare last night? Usually I sleep like a baby on these cruises.

Marina and her family had been on numerous cruises throughout her life. Her father, Mitchell Porosus was a state senator, and earned a comfortable paycheck, so the Porosus family was able to go on trips whenever congress was on a break. Marina wished her dad was around more, but overall the family dynamic was happy and harmonious. Marina had her 17th birthday recently, and this cruise was supposed to be a celebration of that. 

“You know what that means?” her father had told her that day. “You’re the same age as the Dancing Queen! You know, the song? Dancing Queeeen, young and sweeet, only seventeeen-”

Of course they were in public when they said that, so Marina was horribly embarrassed by her father’s terrible singing voice. For someone with a public reputation, he sure didn’t mind ruining it!

But in the end, it was sweet. Her father loved ABBA and Elton John, and Marina imagined that the two of them would dance to Dancing Queen or Tiny Dancer at her wedding.

Marina loved her dad and mom, and that was the reason why she finally dragged herself down from the bunkbed. From their room on the second level, she could see the dock inching closer and closer. With a yawn, Marina turned and walked into the bathroom, where she finally was able to look upon her tired face in the mirror. Her short, black hair was frizzled, but a few brush strokes later reverted it to its usual sleek form. Marina stretched her arms above her head, wincing a little as she heard her shoulders pop. Jeez, good thing I don’t have a swim meet today, my joints are all out of whack. Her blue-grey eyes, still bloodshot from a fitful sleep, harbored a major case of the dark circles. Nothing a little makeup couldn't fix.

A few minutes later, Marina was finally dressed in some high waisted jeans and a non-descript tank top. She had her trusty mirrored sunglasses on, yet the sunlight from the window was enough to make her eyes water. Leaving her room, she walked down the hallway, strutting with her hands deep in her pockets, her fingers running over the ID card given to her upon embarkation. Marina Porosus.

"Finally, there you are," her father greeted when she made it down to the gangway. "Ready to see Egypt?"

Her father was a tall man, with jet black hair like Marina's. While her mother's eyes were a warm brown, his were blue. He looked like your stereotypical senator, even if he didn’t act like it.”

"Do they even have any pyramids in this town?" Marina asked, a bit apathetically.

Her mother shook her head. "No pyramids, but there used to be a library here, the library of Alexandria!"

Marina raised an eyebrow. "Used to be? Well, what's here now?"

Her parents were at a loss for words. "Well, why don't we go see!" her father exclaimed optimistically, throwing his arms around his daughter and wife. 

For the first time that morning, Marina smiled. Even if it was just her parents and her, the three of them would have a good time.

Alexandria was lively place, full of noise and life. Most of it was centered around the port, where the single cruise ship was docked. It was like any other port Marina had visited, except the air was much more dry than the Caribbean. Even Italy was more humid. Marina walked behind her parents as they made their way farther inland. “There’s some ancient ruins I want to check out,” her father said excitedly. “And are you still curious about the Library of Alexandria, Marina?”

Marina shrugged. “Was I curious to begin with?”

“Yes!” her father asserted. “Anyway, there’s a museum all about it farther inland. The walk is a little long, but it’ll be fun!”

Marina sighed, shaking her head a little. She knew her father had enough money to rent a cab, but he was stubborn and insisted that walking “built character.” 

“Tarot card readings! Have your fortune told by the Tarot!”

For some reason, Marina’s feet stalled. Slowly, she stopped, then turned her head towards the source of the voice.

No... it wasn’t the voice that drew her there.

It was... something else.

Like magnetism. Gravity. Marina’s gaze fell upon a short, clocked figure, sitting at the mouth of an alley. The voice was feminine, wracked with age, but Marina couldn’t be sure. For a moment, she almost kept walking, but a moment of hesitation was all it took.

“Dad! Can I get my fortune told?”

Her parents stopped and looked back at her. Her father eyed the fortune teller suspiciously. “Ah, Marina, you don’t believe that stuff, do you?”

“So? It’ll still be fun.” Marina looked back over at the fortune teller. She still had that weird feeling, like that person was someone she knew. “Anyway, Tarot Card readings originated in ancient Egypt, so isn’t this a good experience to have while here?”

Well, her father couldn’t deny that. “Here-” He handed the cloaked figure a twenty dollar bill. “Will this suffice?”

“Certainly.” A deck of cards appeared from under the sleeve of their cloak, and instantly shuffled itself. They spread out across the makeshift table. A wrinkled hand gestured at the line. “Go ahead... pick three, my dear.”

Slowly, Marina reached down. With one finger, she slid one card forward, then another, and then a third. The fortune teller swept them up immediately and placed them face up. Marina’s eyes narrowed as she saw the pictures on the cards, but couldn’t read the writing on them. “So? What does it mean?”

With a soft chuckle, a withered finger pointed at the first. “This card represents your past... This is the Six of Wands card! Confidence, recognition, and success... you’ve known all three throughout your life.”

Marina gulped, shrugging a little. Maybe... but everyone’s had some sort of success in their life! That seems a little too broad.

“And this is the present-” They gestured at the middle card. “This is the Tower Card... it represents catastrophic change, and... awakening.”

Awakening? That’s interesting... I don’t know what that could be.

“Tell me...” Marina looked up to see an eye peering out from behind the hood. It narrowed curiously. “This card is one of the Major Arcana... it represents a milestone in your life. You must have noticed, then... even if you don’t know quite yet...”

Marina wasn’t sure she liked the way the fortune teller was spinning this. I haven’t noticed anything like that! “Okay... and the last card is the future?”

“Yes, yes...”

The fortune teller’s finger fell upon the face of the last card. Unlike the first two, it was reversed, facing away from Marina. “This card, when reversed, represents dissatisfaction, delays, and... an endless, fruitless search for closure.”

Marina felt a chill go down her neck.

“The World.”

The family left the fortune teller behind after that. Even as they searched farther inland, visiting temples and museums, Marina could not shake the slowly growing pit of dread in her stomach. 

A few hours later, it was almost time to get back on the ship. The problem was that the small family had made their way a little too far inland and were now in real danger of being left behind. 

"This is all your fault, dad!" Marina scolded as she jogged behind her parents. There was a taxi station nearby where they could get transport to the port. "You always geek out over this historical stuff and make us late to things!"

"Well, your mother wanted to get that hat from that store back there, too, so I'm not the only one to blame," he yelled back. "In any case, we can just hop on a taxi and-" His face fell, and the family skidded to a halt. The entire plaza was slammed, bumper to bumper traffic as far as they could see. "Mitchell, we're definitely going to miss the boat," her mom said quietly. Of course, Senator Porosus stayed enthusiastic, shaking his head. "No, we'll make it if we run."

Marina groaned as her father and mother started to run again. "Seriously?" It wasn't that Marina couldn't keep up; she had been swimming her entire life and had great stamina. It was just so damn hot out.

"If you hurry, we'll make it back in time for dinner," her mother encouraged, spurring Marina on into a true run.

With her dad leading the way, the trio raced down the street towards where they thought the port was. There were a lot of people walking on the sidewalks, but it wasn't hard to weave between them without disturbance. Marina craned her neck and, with a ton of relief, spied the top of their ship up ahead. "I can see it, Dad!" she exclaimed, already thinking about what she was going to eat for dinner tonight. "We're going to make it!"

"Here, let's cut through this road." He pointed at an alley that seemingly cut over to where the embarkation area was. "We can beat some of the line as well."

"Perfect!" Marina changed course and ran ahead of her parents and into the alleyway.

For a moment, the sounds of the busy streets died away, leaving only three pairs of footsteps slapping their way down the stone path. The buildings on either side were tall enough to block out the afternoon sun, leaving them in a comfortable chill.

Up ahead was a corner. Marina quickened her pace and turned into...

A dead end.

"Shit," her dad exclaimed, earning him a sharp kick in the shin from his wife. "Ah, excuse my french. Back luck, huh." He shrugged, ever optimistic. "Well, I guess we can double back and keep running."

"Yeah," Marina’s mom agreed.

Marina sighed. What a let down! Well, it wouldn't take too long to get back, at least, at this rate we’ll make in in time-

Marina turned around to see that five men, all armed with guns, had cornered them in the dead end.

"Look at this, just the man we were looking for!” one of them pointed at Marina’s dad. “This is the senator we were told to capture? He doesn’t look like much.”

“Don’t worry, this is him... Senator Porosus, a friend of yours sends this message:” one of the men grinned. “You’ve been in my way for too long, Mitch. It’s time for me to put the fear of God in you. Enjoy your extended stay in Egypt!”

“What? Who hired you?” Mitchell gulped and pulled his wife and daughter behind him. Marina felt her mom's cold hand clutch her arm. This time, she didn't try to shrug it off. “I’ve done nothing but get along with everyone. They all want to see me reach the top! I’m gonna be President one day-”

“We’ll see about that.” The man in charge raised his gun. “For now, come to our truck. We’ll make you and your family comfortable until someone generous pays your ransom.”

Oh no, they had a truck somewhere.

"Look... I don’t care what you do to me.” Senator Porosus said, his voice shaking a little. For someone in so much danger, he was staying pretty composed. “But leave my family out of it!”

“Mitchell-” Marina’s mother whispered, her grip on Marina loosening slightly. “Just do what they say, and-” She was cut off with a scream as one of the men yanked her away from her family.

Marina's eyes widened. Shit! This is actually happening- It was like a scene from a movie, some horrible, scary movie, and panic spiked through Marina’s veins. "MOM! DAD!" Someone grabbed Senator Porous as well, and now two more were advancing towards Marina.

"Don’t even try, you’re just going to get hurt!” one of the guys said with a twisted grin. Marina screamed and struggled anyway as her arms were twisted behind her body. 

No... NO!

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This was supposed to be their last stop before flying home, where Marina would finish up the year and enjoy the summer with her friends. But now-

Catastrophic change... and-

With one last burst of strength, Marina wrenched her arm away, freeing herself for a moment. She turned around, her eyes wide and crazed with adrenaline.

Awakening.

The gun leveled at her head was suddenly crunched into a flat piece of scrap metal. The man holding it didn’t have a moment to realize what had happened, because numerous spots of his arm suddenly burst with blood.

He opened his mouth to scream, stumbling back, but it was as if something was clamped down on his arm, hard. Bones crunched as he was suddenly wrenched to the side, and the movement sent him flying into the nearby brick wall.

Marina froze.

What- what on earth-

But then something hit her in the back of the head, hard, and she fell back down to the bottom of the river.

The crocodile continued to circle high above.

And that’s chapter one!!!! I hope you guys are intrigued 0.0 Please comment/inbox/etc if you have any theories or thoughts, I always appreciate them! I’ll probably post the next chapter on Friday. I changed a couple things to make the story flow better than it did when I first released it. Anyway, see you next time!

Also, did anyone catch the meaning of Marina’s last name? hehe...

[aaliyah-babe]

The One With George Stephanopolous: Part One

pairings: eventual joey x reader

authors note: i own nothing from friends, all credit goes to their respective owners. feedback is always appreciated!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together!

“oh that’s good!” pheobe exclaimed after she heard what monica would do if she was omnipotent for a day,

“okay pheobe,” you said,

“okay. if i were omnipotent for a day i would want, um, world peace, no more hunger, good things for the rainforest. and bigger boobs!”

“well, see. you took mine,” ross said, “chandler what about you?”

“if i were omnipotent for a day, i’d make myself omnipotent forever!” he answered and you scoffed, so did rachel,

“see, there’s always one guy! “if i had a wish i’d wish for three more wishes!”” she quoted,

joey entered the coffee house and everybody waved at him,

“hey, joey! what would you do if you were omnipotent?” monica asked him,

“probably kill myself,” he answered, not understanding,

“excuse me?”

“hey, if little joey’s dead then i got no reason to live,”

“joey, uh... om nipotent,” ross cleared it up,

“you are?” he gasped, as ross got up, “ross, i’m sorry!”

“how does she do that?” monica asked, referring to the sleeping pheobe in the coffee house,

“i cannot sleep in a public place!” ross answered,

“yeah me neither, i always feel like somebody’s watching me,” you said, “kind of like what we’re doing to pheobe right now,”

“would you look at her?” monica asked,

“we already are,”

“she is so peaceful,”

pheobe stirred in her sleep before her eyes shot awake and she screamed, sending monica jumping back,

“what? what?” she exclaimed, “hi,”

“it’s okay, you know. you just nodded off again,” ross said to her,

“what’s going on with you?” you asked her,

“i got no sleep last night.” she told you,

“why?” ross asked her and you sat up straight,

“my grandmother has this new boyfriend,” you already knew where this was going, “and they’re both kind of insecure in her, and deaf! so they’re constantly reassuring eachother that they’re having a good time! you have no idea how loud they are,”

“well if you want you can stay with me tonight,” you offered,

“thanks,” she thanked you,

“hey wait guys! why don’t you two come over, and we’ll have like a slumber party, like back in highscool,” monica said,

“oh yeah that would be great!”

“yeah sure mon!”

“... 95, 96, 97. see, i told you. less than 100 steps from our place to here,” joey said to chandler, walking into the coffee house,

“you got way too much free time,” chandler said walking over to you all.

“hey! there’s the birthday boy!” joey smiled at ross, jumping over the seat and sat next to ross and you, “ross, check it out. hockey tickets, rangers-penguins tonight at the garden and we’re taking you!”

“happy birthday pal!” chandler said, confusing you,

“we love you man,” joey kissed ross’ cheek,

“that’s funny,” ross laughed, “my birthday was seven months ago.”

“so?”

��so i’m guessing you had an extra ticket and couldn’t decide who got to bring a date? huh?”

“well, aren’t we mr. the-glass-is-half-empty?” chandler said making you chuckle,

“oh my god. oh. is today the 20th, october 20th?” ross asked, making joey nod,

“oh, i was hoping you wouldn’t remember,” monica said which made you and joey share confused glances,

“what’s wrong with the 20th?” joey asked,

“11 days before halloween- all the good costumes are gone?” chandler joked.

“today’s the day carol and i first... consummated our... physical relationship,” ross said and you nodded slowly, while joey stared at ross, “with sex,”

“you know what? id better pass on the game,” ross declared, “i think i’ll go home and think about my ex-wife and her lesbian lover,” ross got up,

“to hell with hockey, let’s all do that!” joey tapped your leg before getting up,

“come on ross!” chandler said to him, “you, me, joey, ice, guys night out! come on, what do you say big guy? huh? huh?” chandler threw punches that didn’t hit ross in the stomach,

“what are you doing?” ross asked.

“i have no idea,”

“come on, ross.” joey persuaded,

“alright, alright, maybe it will take my mind off it,” ross answered, “will you promise to buy me a big foam finger?”

“you got it!”

“look! look! look!” rachel yelled running in, “my first paycheck!”

everybody clapped as she ran and sat next to you,

“look at the window, there’s my name! hi me!” she smiled at the envelope,

“i remember the day i got my first paycheck, there was a cave-in in one of the mines and eight people were killed,” pheobe explained,

“you worked in a mine?” you asked her,

“no i worked in a dairy queen, why?”

“god! isn’t this exciting? i earned this. i wiped tables for this, i steamed milk for it, and it was totally...” she read her paycheck bill, before her face fell, “not worth it. who’s “fica”? why’s he getting all my money?” you chuckled at that, “i mean what? chandler, look at that!” she showed chandler,

“oh this is not that bad,” he handed it to joey,

“oh you’re fine for a first job!” he then handed it to ross who read it,

“you can totally live off this,” he handed it to pheobe who showed you and monica,

“oh yeah!” you guys lied

“hey by the way, great service today!” ross said getting money out from his pocket,

“oh yeah totally!” you did the same, putting it on the table as well as everyone else.

“hockey!” the men yelled, walking to the door, but before they could leave, three women walked in looking around and one was pregnant, everybody stared at them,

“hockey!” the men repeated, leaving the coffee house

the women looked around while the pregnant woman looked at the counter, straight at rachel, “rachel?” she asked.

rachel turned around and gasped, “oh my god!” she screamed as the three women started screaming loudly,

“oh, wow,” you sighed leaning into pheobe,

she ran over and hugged them,

“i swear i’ve seen birds do this on wild kingdom,” monica leaned over to you and pheobe,

“what are you guys doing here?” rachel asked,

“well, we were in the city shopping and your mom said you worked here, and it’s true!” the middle one giggled,

“look at you in the apron, you look like you’re in a play,” the one in black and white said,

“god, look at you, you are so big!” rachel said, referring to the woman’s pregnant belly,

“i know, i know! i’m a duplex!” she rubbed her stomach before shrugging,

“so what’s going on with you?” rachel asked the girl in black and white,

“well, guess who my dads making partner in his firm?” she pointed at herself, making all the girls scream again,

“and while we’re on the subject of news...” the girl in the middle showed her hand which had an engament ring on it, making everybody scream once again,

“look, look, i have elbows!” pheobe said, making you, pheobe and monica make fun of the girls by screaming like them, making them all look at you, and you guys shut up.

tomorrow was your date so you headed back up to get an outfit while monica and pheobe helped you pick one,

“what about this one?” monica asked, holding up a black dress,

“yeah that’s nice, but it’s too formal, we’re only going to a dinner,” you told her,

“okay well i have an idea! what’s your best feature? body wise?” pheobe asked and you shrugged,

“i don’t know?”

“your boobs,” monica nodded,

“oh, 100%,” pheobe agreed,

“well i might just have to agree with you on that one,” you shrugged,

“okay, so now that we have figured out what is your best feature, we need to figure out which outfit compliments that outfit the most, so take off your clothes and let’s get started!” you and monica looked at her, “why do i sound like joey?”

you laughed before going to change in your bathroom while they picked out more outfits, the first one was a pink dress, that cut down to about thigh length and didn’t compliment your breasts at all, but you showed the girls anyway,

“okay, this one is nice, but it doesn’t show the ladies,” you pointed at your breasts,

“okay well next one, is this red, louis vuitton dress, and it looks like it would compliment them,” monica handed it to you and you changed putting it on, before walking back in and both their mouths dropped,

“oh y/n! you look so gorgeous,” monica said to you, making you blush,

“really?” you asked,

“oh 100% stunning, if i was a lesbian, i would be coming up with the worst pick up line ever right about now,” pheobe said to you, making you smiled,

“well this is it then, but now i need shoes,” you said,

“oh i have a great pair back at my place, i’ll go get them,” monica said, leaving you and pheobe here,

“so what’s he like?” she asked you.

“oh he’s dreamy, 100% my type, fluffy black hair, with blue eyes, just really, really gorgeous,” you explained while she gasped,

“wow he sounds like a prince, i cannot wait to meet him,” she said,

“yeah well pheebs you will tomorrow, he’s picking me up at the coffee house at 7,” you told her,

“here they are!” monica walked back in, handing you the shoes, they were black heels, that looked really nice. you put them on and looked in the mirror, liking what you saw,

“okay yes, this is what i’m wearing,” you smiled, you got out of your date clothes and into pj’s for the slumber party, as you guys walked back over to monica’s apartment.

let me know if you want to be in future tag lists!

taglist: @zestygingergirl

[fandom-meanderer]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Pt. 11]

Pairing: Batfamily x Batsis!Reader

Part: (11/?) [First] [Previous] [Next]

Genre: General Fiction

Fandom: DC Universe

P.o.V.: 3rd

Word Count: 3,793 Words

Warnings: Language

Further Notes: From now on, I’ve decided that chapters will be longer! I hope you enjoy :D

Eve had proved to be beneficial, the thought resided in Damien’s mind. Thanks to her, he was able to clear a few things up.

First of all, her, his sister, and the others in combat were all a part of a unit known simply as the Brigade. Their roles in battle are determined by the main color of their uniform, black being front-liners and white meaning support. The embroidery further specialized, red being combat specialists, silver being magic, and copper being artillery. Amongst the Brigade, his sister was the Captain, and her right hand was Alexander.

The nation they were in right now was known wholly as Caelum, while their zeroed in location is a small village known only as Hymnal. They were currently at war with the neighboring nation Imperium. From his understanding, the people of Caelum all came from different Earths, while the one they stood on at the current moment was artificial, man-made. But despite that there stood an established government, a monarchy to be specific, and an absolute one at that. The Brigade was at their mercy and, according to Eve, they couldn’t have had a worst ruling family, for reasons unspecified.

Regardless, Damien’s eyes shift over to the blackened window, they’ve been sitting in the house for who knows how long now. He was certain that the land beyond them was scorched even further down that the earth it once resided on. He scratched his head, he came here out of impulse and, no doubt, the others were probably looking for him. He couldn’t stop the wave of guilt that overcame him, but at the same time he couldn’t care less. They were the ones who didn’t understand, it wasn’t his fault, he was doing this for his very-much alive sister, after all. They, for some reason, wouldn’t understand.

—

(Name)’s vision was starting to blur. How long had they been fighting again? How many of the monsters have come? God only knows. (Name) looks over at the forest. There aren’t anymore approaching, but that doesn’t cancel out the ones still fighting. She takes a step back to steady herself, but with the growing casualties, the overlapping dissonances, and the lowering visibility, it was clear that if she stayed on field she would just become a hinderance.

“Captain?” The voice was indiscernible, be it because of sheer exhaustion or the loud howls, it didn’t matter. (Name) felt two steady hands on her arms, holding her upright.

“Don’t worry about me, I’d be fine even if I didn’t want to be,” (Name) musters out. “Who… who are you?” (Name) turns her head, but her vision just continued to blur.

“Damn, you’re in no condition to continue,” the voice continued. He slung her arm around his shoulder and led her to the safe house.

“Captain!” Another distorted voice.

“Sister?”

‘Eve and Damien,’ the Captain relaxed as whoever it was laid her on the floor. Eve kneeled over her and began performing a healing charm.

“I’m heading back out there,” the voice continues.

“Right, I’ll take care of her here, Carter,” Eve says. (Name) groans, and finally blacks out.

“What… what’s wrong with her?” Damien asks. Eve just scrunches her face.

“She’s pushed herself too long,” Eve shakes her head sadly. Damien’s eyes glossed over his sister, or whoever the hell that was. His sister didn’t look like this. His sister wasn’t supposed to be covered head to toe in blood, she isn’t supposed to have a dislocated arm, or a giant gash across her abdomen. His sister would have never worn a military uniform, let alone be the Captain of one. (Name) Wayne would have never step foot near danger, no, she would have run away and called one of them.

And, if rumors are true, she tried to call all of them that night.

“Damien, how long do you think we’ve been here?”

“A few hours?”

“For you, yes, but the Captain has been here since the fight broke out,” Eve frowns. “Which was two days ago.”

“What? That’s impossible,” Damien grunts.

“For you and me, yes, but the Captain is a special case,” Eve explains. She moves her hands to the unconscious woman’s head and rests it gently, a calming light emerging from underneath her palm. “We all arrived at different times, the latest one was Nixon, he arrived just a few hours ago.”

Damien’s mind flashes back to the man who told (Name) to abandon him somewhere and he quickly grimaced. He definitely wasn’t going to get along with him any time soon, and hopefully if things work out, he wouldn’t have to. If things worked out, in just the next day they’ll be back in the manor, as things should be.

“Either way, your sister will be back up in no time,” Eve reassures. “From what the transmissions have been saying, she’s going to make a beeline back to the Capital as soon as she wakes up… She’s been away from her post for too long, and the Royal family is starting to become impatient.”

“Post?”

“Oh, well she is the Captain of the Guard, plus, with what Alex has been saying over the transmission, one of us is going to have to head over to the Kingdom Capital and explain what’s going on,” Eve says. “Carter was going to go before, but the Captain volunteered herself. Knowing her, she’s probably going to take you with her.”

“I see.”

“She would prefer to stay, but with the hoards dying down and with Alex’s mentor coming along soon, the Captain is assured everything will be fine.” Eve quickly retracts her hand as (Name) groaned softly. Slowly, she opened her eyes and pushed herself up.

“Thank you… Eve…” she mumbles. She rolls her dislocated shoulder a bit. “Can you… Can you pop that back?” Eve nods and does as she is told and (Name) let out a satisfied sigh and thanks her.

“Anything for you, Captain,” she smiles. (Name) turns over to look at Damien.

“You and I have a lot to talk about, Damien,” she rubs the back of her head. “And as much as I’d rather rest for a bit more, I’m going to have to cut to the chase. We’re going to the Capital, and you’re coming with me. No arguments.”

“Alright,” Damien bit his tongue back.

“Eve, do you mind?”

“Not at all!” Eve stood up and waved her hand in a circle, a large portal materializing. “I’ll send you updates, Captain.”

“Please do, and be safe.”

“When am I not?” With that, (Name) nudged her head towards the portal and watched Damien enter first, then she followed close behind, the portal closing itself right as she entered.

Damien and (Name) stepped out of the swirling vortex and found themselves in the middle of a technology wonderland. If you can think of it, it’s there. Flying cars, androids, hover boards, holograms, etc. (Name) raised her eyebrow and laughed.

“Welcome to the Kingdom’s Capital,” she says. She digs through her pockets and holds out a small cube.

“Jason… Jason has taken you on his motorcycle before, right?” The name seemed uneasy on her lips.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, this will be the exact same but three times faster,” she smirks. “Try not to get whiplash, Boy Wonder.”

“Do not—” he stops talking once she tosses the cube to the floor and it expands into a large motorbike.

“Climb on,” she says, gesturing to sit in front of her. “Oh, come on. Some knights ride horses, I ride bikes, it’s much more effective.” Damien shakes his head out of his shock and obeys. In a quick rev of her engine, the two sped down the streets of Capital City.

Damien thought he wouldn’t have been so awestricken by the sight, but for some reason he was. He knew they were speeding down the highways, that much was evident by the blurring lines of light that surrounded him, but time seemed to be at a simultaneous standstill, it felt peaceful, as strange as that sounds. He decided to chalk it up to their departure from the previous war zone.

The two come to a slow at a rather run down area, and (Name) helps him off while she recondenses the motorcycle back into it’s capsule. Unlike the marvel of mainstream Capital, this area seemed more familiar, the roads were a bit less kept, there were overgrown plants in some areas, the shops had certainly seen better days, but it felt familiar.

“More like Gotham?” (Name) seemed to have read his thoughts. He only nods. “Yeah, I thought so too, follow me,” she nudges to a bar, and the two walk in swiftly. It was empty, even the barkeeper was absent, Damien looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was only 8:32 am.

“Is it that early?”

“Being in battle really fucks with your sense of time,” (Name) explains. She opens a back door and gestures for Damien to ascend the stairs first. She closes the door behind them and leads him to the eighth floor. After a series of torn wallpaper and stained carpet, they stop in front of a plain looking unit. “Home sweet home,” she kicks open the door and pushes him inside.

“I thought you were the Captain of… whatever it was,” Damien eyes her suspiciously.

“Yeah, I am, but those idiots in the Brigade break so much shit it comes out of my paycheck,” (Name) deadpans. “I’m going to go take a shower, the Queen would have a heart attack if I got blood anywhere in the mansion. There’s some juice in the fridge if you’re up to it. We’ll grab lunch later,” (Name) instructs. She disappears into the hallway and Damien is left alone once again.

He sits on the couch in the small living room and bounces on it slightly, feeling the stiff springs under him, and he looks around the unit. It was nothing like where they used to live in Gotham, even her dorm was better than this, from what he remembered. A true downgrade, and he was certain (Name) would want to come back to the Manor just from comparing it to this alone. He looked out the window, the skyline of Capital in perfect display.

At least there was that one thing worth it in this place. He continues to stoop around and his eyes land on the mantle, the only thing sitting on it was one of his father’s tools, he remembers that Dick had jokingly called it a “batarang.” He picks it up and feels the weight in his hands. Now why would his sister have kept it if she never wanted to go home.

“I made it myself.” (Name) read his mind once again. “It’s not made out of the same metal though, but I figured if I could replicate it I could apply it to other weapons for the Brigade to use.” She walks up to him and takes it from his hand, placing it back to it’s rightful place. Damien looks her over, one wouldn’t have been able to tell that she was just massacring monsters only an hour earlier. Instead, she was in a pristine uniform with a specific emblem etched onto a badge on her shoulder.

“Ready to go, kiddo?” She asks.

“Yeah.”

—

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?” Dick shouts. Tim rubs his head angrily and gestures toward the screen.

“Do you see him on the radar? No? Well, neither can I!” He argues. Jason rolls his eyes.

“Stop arguing,” Bruce sighs.

“Why am I even here?” Jason grumbles. He takes his helmet. “I’m out, this is stupid. He’ll come back when he wants to, and when he’s not thinking like some crazy lunatic.”

“Jason has a point, this isn’t Damien’s first tantrum,” Bruce concedes.

“Jason, Bruce, wait, come on, we should make sure he’s alright,” Dick reasons. Tim turns back to the bat computer and a notification pings. “It’s from an unknown source…”

“What is it?”

“If you want to find your brother, here’s a hint,” Tim recites. He looks back at his two brothers, who just shrug and look back up at the screen. Tim obliges and opens the file. It was a grainy CCTV footage, but the figure centered in it was unmistakable. They watched as Damien ran around the area, asking random people who happened to be passing by, and what not, then a stranger walked up to him and inaudibly told him something. Whatever he said, Damien followed him into the cafe. Then they walked out and into a back alley. Although they were out of sight, the bright light that came from that alley was enough to hint to them what happened.

And so, operation Save Damien is a go.

—

Soon enough, (Name) stopped in front of a building and climbed off.

“We’re here, stay close.”

Damien, at first, trailed behind (Name). They entered into the huge manor, and he quickly found that it existed in a state that was in a stark difference from the technological marvel that was Capital City. Though, a strange thought, it resembled Wayne Manor in some ways. Damien noted that the manor lacked the advancement as the city, but who was he to judge? He just fell into the world a few hours ago.

“Hey, catch up,” (Name)’s voice was softer, more familiar. She stopped to let him walk next to her. “I know what you’re thinking, why does this place look so different from the outside?”

“Yeah.”

“The Queen is paranoid that technology will be the death of them,” (Name) explains. “Which is ridiculous, I mean I get it, but we have the best cyber-security team in all of the Earths, she should just learn how to accept it by now. I can’t wait until the Prince gets coronated, I swear,” (Name) sounded more like she was complaining now.

“I’ve heard the Royal family isn’t the best,” Damien comments. (Name) nods.

“You’re right. The King and Queen are too stuck up for their own good, if they talk to you keep it brief. The Prince is more lenient, you should be fine with him. But do not speak unless spoken to. The Queen is a bitch and the King is a pushover.”

“So why are you talking about them like that?”

“They couldn’t kill me if they tried. And it would be a dumb move on them to get rid of their best playing card.” (Name) stops in front of two large doors. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

(Name) pushed the doors open and they walked into the grand throne room. Before them sat three of the most powerful people in that world and, to say the least, Damien felt the pressure in the atmosphere. It was similar to those few times when he knew his enemies out-skilled him. He found himself subconsciously moving towards his sister.

“Captain,” the King spoke.

“Your majesty.” (Name) stopped a few feet away from the thrones, bowed her head, and put her hand to her heart. Damien followed suit.

“What is that behind you,” the Queen spat. Damien didn’t miss the annoyed look in (Name)’s eyes as she looked up at the other woman.

“My younger brother.”

“I see,” she relaxes into her seat. “Quite the predicament you’ve found yourself in. If he will affect your duties, dispose of him.”

Damien’s fists clenched behind his back, but he said nothing.

“That won’t be a problem. I’ve decided to take him in as my apprentice.”

“Tch,” the Queen turned her nose. Damien suddenly realizes why Jason would be so pissed when he did that to him. “So he’s virtually untouchable.”

“Yes.”

“Give me news on that village,” the King cut into the conversation.

“It’s unsalvageable, your majesty,” (Name) replied curtly. He shifted slightly.

“How many survivors?”

“Five.”

“Hundred?”

“No, your majesty. Five,” (Name) touched her heart again. “Correction, three.”

“My god,” the Queen shook her head. “How could your team, your special operations unit, have failed?!”

“I believe I’ve told you before, your majesty, there have been frequent sightings of a new and much stronger daemon in our midst. Before, we were able to handle up to five at a time on our own, but, for reasons unknown, an entire herd descended upon the village,” (Name) stood her ground and continued to explain the situation, all of which Damien already knew as Eve filled him in.

Damien’s eyes wandered to the Prince, who was silent this entire time. He was watching (Name) with a strange mix of curiosity, confusion, and concern. His head rested on the palm of his hand as he tried to feign superiority, but he held a similar annoyed expression that (Name) had, with his eyes constantly shifting to the Queen, who seemed ready to boil over with rage.

“I see,” the King tapped his foot, the sound bouncing off of the room’s walls. “I take it the situation is being dealt with at this time.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“You are to remain in the Capital until your unit returns, the Royal Family needs top security. These attacks you have been detailing have occurred far too frequently.”

“I understand, your majesty.”

“Dismissed.” (Name) bowed her head again, turned on her heel, and left.

—

“When you called her a bitch I thought you were just exaggerating,” Damien huffs. (Name) pushed his salad towards him.

“Eat.”

“I am, I am,” Damien pouts.

“Okay, now that I’ve figured out an excuse not to get you killed, you’re still on thin ice, Dami. You have to stick with me from now on, no wandering off. And don’t try lying to the Queen, her ability is TruthSeek. It’s impossible to lie to her.”

“Ability?”

“Oh, right. Well, everyone in this world, or at least when we entered, gained something we call “Special Abilities,” basically they’re all unique things we can do. The Queen can tell if you’re lying, the King can cause all of your bones to crush in the snap of his fingers, and so on.”

“What’s your ability?”

“Confidential.”

“Why?”

“We’re in a public space,” (Name) shrugs.

“What about the Prince?”

“We call it SharpShot, but after a few demonstrations, Alex and I are thinking it’s something else. Basically, he is able to always hit his target. He could throw it the other way and it would still find its way to its destination. Alex theorizes that it has something to do about manipulation of space now, but we’re working on it,” (Name) rambles. “Now it’s your turn. How’d you get here?” It sounded more like a demand than a question.

“The morning after you came home, you left again, and for some reason no one remembered that you were ever really there. So I went out to look for you on my own. After that this man in a lab coat came up to me, told me where you were, and took me there.”

“He landed here with you.”

“No, just me.”

“Describe him some more.”

“Gray hair, tan vest, silver pocket watch—“

“Do you remember the watch’s engraving?”

“I do, but I can’t describe it.”

“Can you draw it?”

“Yeah.” Without wasting another second, (Name) grabbed a pen from her pocket and a napkin and handed it to him.

“Take your time.” (Name) drank her coffee as Damien scribbled away in front of her, but truth be told, as soon as he began to draw the head of a dragon she already knew. “The man who took you, his name is Kristoff Hargreeve. He’s the head scientist for Imperium, and also who Alex and I believe is orchestrating the daemon attacks. But I’m curious as to why he would bring you here to me, and not with him.”

“It would make more sense to use me as a hostage,” Damien adds in, (Name) nods curtly.

“Exactly. And it can’t be a distraction, even if I was away the rest of the Brigade are more than capable of handling the war,” (Name) leaned back on the back of the booth and stretched her legs out. “I’ll talk about it more with Alex when he gets back.”

“That name is familiar,” Damien mutters.

“Well you have heard it tossed around left and right,” (Name) chuckles, the annoyed look from Damien makes her laugh even louder. “Geez, kiddo, I’m just kidding. Yeah, he’s the same Alex who I used to penpal.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“He has the picture of me that I sent him, even with the note on the back. And it’s not weird, I have his too,” (Name) shrugs. “So we stuck together, it was easier to have a familiar face in a world of the unfamiliar.”

“Why didn’t you ever come home?” Damien asks. It was clear that they had the ability to traverse the different Earths, (Name) had a feeling the question was going to come up, but she had secretly prayed it didn’t.

“I didn’t want to.” Damien opens his mouth to argue, but is quickly cut off by yet another new face.

“(Name)! Thank god you’re okay!” The waitress bounded up to them and wrapped her arms around (Name). “I was afraid that I’d have to pay Tyler.”

“What?”

“We were betting on whether or not you’d make it back.”

“Oh fuck you two get out of here!”

“Pay up, bitch boy!” She looks over her shoulder at another waiter, Tyler, who rolled his eyes and pulled out a bill. The waitress slides in next to Damien. “This your secret kid, (Name)?”

“No, he’s my brother.”

“Oh my god, he is so adorable—“ the Waitress reaches out to pat his head but Damien catches her wrist before she could move another inch. “And now I see why he’s your brother. Hey, I’m Rebecca.”

“Damien.”

“(Name) and Damien Wayne, huh? Has a nice ring to it,” Rebecca smiles. Her eyes fall on the drawing in front of Damien and she straightens herself, she leans in and whispers only loud enough so that he and (Name) could hear.

“They’re pulling back their forces at Gronder.”

“What? Why would they do that? They have the upper hand,” (Name) mumbles.

“Me and Ty were wondering too, but according to Crys, a huge shipment of whatever was just delivered to their position. It was blue flagged too.”

“Living cargo,” (Name) mutters. “The entire East army is about to get wiped out.”

“If the King deploys you there I will not hesitate to rip his head off, (Name).”

“Please don’t do that.” (Name)’s lips draw a straight line. Then everything started to make sense, the pieces fell together, and Damien was able to pinpoint the exact moment (Name) realized that she had made a mistake.

Tag List:  @loxbbg @holymotherofchickennoodlesoup @ijustwannabecanadian@oneshots-galore @xapham @peqchynero @sono-sakana@theroyalbrownbarbie @audioshoes @allycat4458 @izzy28901 @buchanangaby @gabytodd

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

Could I get a part 2 of that reddie office au??

part two to this prompt 

* * * * *

Eddie watched as Beverly sat on his bed, scrolling through her phone in excitement. Occasionally, she’d glance up at him with wide eyes, grinning from ear to ear which only made Eddie groan internally and wish he had never opened his mouth.

“I can’t believe it’s been almost a week and you haven’t messaged him yet. He was clearly into you!” Bev gasped, throwing herself back on Eddie’s bed dramatically. “Richie Tozier gave you his number and you haven’t messaged him yet. Why not?”

A flush rose up on Eddie’s cheeks and he looked away from his friend and down at his own phone. Richie’s contact name stared back up at him and a nervous flutter overtook his stomach. “I don’t know Bev, I just…I’ve been hurt before and I also don’t want this to affect him joining the company.”

Bev scoffed, “Eddie, how many times have I told you to quit that shitty job. They don’t give two craps about you and even though you do a pretty important job, most of them think you’re there just to run after them and fetch teas and coffees.”

Eddie sighed, because Bev was right, she always was. Eddie’s job was rubbish, and he hated having to wake up every morning and go do a job he hated more than anything in the world. The only thing was, it paid well and he had an apartment and car to run. He needed the money more than the happiness. “I can’t quit Bev…I need to find another job first and no-one is hiring at this time of year.”

“No-one is hiring at any time of the year because you’re not looking…” Bev sighed. Just then her phone went off and she glanced at it before standing up. “That’s Ben, we’re going to catch a movie. Seriously Eddie, call him. Go out on a date, see what happens. Be spontaneous for once.”

She left him with those words of Marsh Wisdom and Eddie locked the door behind her, collapsing onto the sofa. He flicked on the TV to some Hallmark Christmas movie and curled up under his blanket, occasionally glancing at his phone. There was no way he could call Richie Tozier. There was no way that he had been serious when he gave him his number. He was probably drunk. Yeah, that’s it.

The following day was Monday, and Eddie was back in the office of hell. As he made his way to his desk, Bradley stopped him and passed him a piece of paper with coffee orders on it. Eddie opened his mouth to protest, but Bradley was already talking. “We have a meeting this morning. Important one. We need these coffees pronto or you might find yourself out of a job.” With that, he walked away, leaving Eddie with the list.

Eddie knew better than to argue, as Bradley would just tell someone he’d broken a rule and he’d end up with another write up. He sighed and made his way to the kitchen, making quick work of the orders before setting them on a tray and heading to the large boardroom. He knocked three times and when he was called to enter, he opened the door and wheeled the tray inside.

What Eddie didn’t expect to find when he opened the door was Richie Tozier sitting in one of the seats. Their eyes locked and his cheeks turned a light red as he smiled just a little. Before he could greet him, Bradley’s high pitched voice was in his ear, “Jesus, I didn’t mean from the kitchen! I meant from the actual coffee shop! You can’t expect Mr Tozier to drink this crap!”

Suddenly, Eddie’s face was red for a completely different reason and he glanced around the room to see the other colleagues looking completely embarrassed, including Mr Gray. The boss cleared his throat, “Now, Elmar, please go and fetch the coffees from the coffee shop. Immediately.”

Eddie started to back out of the room, but before he made it to the door, Richie cleared his throat and everyone turned their attention to him. “This coffee is fine actually. Also, I thought his name was Eddie and he worked in the Risk Department? What is he doing fetching coffee? Don’t you have interns for that?”

“Oh the interns have much better things to be doing,” Bradley laughed. “They are here to learn, after all, not fetch coffee. That’s what Elmar is for.” The other clients and colleagues in the boardroom snorted, covering their mouths to hide their obnoxious laugh.

Tears filled up behind Eddie’s eyes and all he really wanted to do was hide under a table and never have to see any of these people ever again. Yet, as he was about to leave the room and run all the way home, Eddie stopped and turned back around, facing the group.

“I quit.” He muttered, immediately feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders. He spoke a little louder; “I quit. I am handing in my resignation effective immediately. I never want to see any of your faces ever again. I am done being your busboy, I’m done with you treating me like shit and pretending I’m not even here! Also, my name is Eddie not Elmar or Edwin or any other name you call me by. It’s Eddie!” He let out a breath, whipping his head to Richie who was staring at him in shock. “Also, you shouldn’t sign a deal with them. They’re just going to con you out of all your money. I’ll be expecting my last paycheck on payday.”

With that, Eddie left the boardroom, making his way back to his office and starting to pack up his things. He wanted to be out of there before Mr Gray caught up to him and screamed at him for speaking to Mr Tozier in that manner. In all honesty, at that point, Eddie couldn’t give a shit. He pulled his bag over his shoulder and waved a flimsy goodbye to Annabell who was staring at him from the front desk in shock.

As he passed the board room to head to the elevator, he spotted Mr Gray, Bradley and Monia trying to convince Richie to still sign the deal that was sitting out on the table. Just before he reached the elevator, Richie looked up and their eyes locked for the second time that day. He sent him a shy smile before stepping into the elevator and pressing the ground floor button.

The feeling of stepping out into the fresh air, stress free and finally out of the dead end job made Eddie feel like he was on cloud nine. He only managed to make it a few hundred yards down the street when he heard someone calling out his name from behind him. He turned out, his eyes widening as he realised it was Richie Tozier running towards him.

“Eddie, hi.” Richie smiled, catching his breath. His cheeks were already red from the cold air, hair tousled from when he’d been running his fingers through it. Eddie thought he looked much more handsome than he had at the party. “You never text…”

Oh, right. Eddie hadn’t messaged Richie because he had been scared, yet here Richie was standing in front of him after running after him. “I- I wasn’t sure the offer was genuine. I didn’t want to end up being the brunt of a bad joke...again.”

Richie’s smile dropped and he glanced behind him, “Honestly, after seeing all that in there? I don’t blame you.” He took a step forward. “But I want you to know that I was being genuine, I wanted you to text me. I was going to ask you out on a date, and I wanted to get to know you.”

Eddie flushed, tucking his blonde hair behind his ear as he looked down at the pavement. He looked back up, smiling just a little bit, “Well...if I’m not too late?”

“You’re definitely not too late,” Richie grinned. “How about I take you out to lunch and you tell me more about how this company was planning to con me out of money?” He asked and held out his arm for Eddie to take. “And in return, I’ll wine and dine you like you’ve never been before. How does that sound?”

Unable to say no, Eddie nodded his head and reached out to accept Richie’s outstretched arm. “It would be my pleasure.”

* * * * *

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @that-weird-girls-blog @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @stanleuyris @eduardoandale  @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @toziesque @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking @s-onora @atownofeggs  @wilding-throught-thehallways @no-she-wasnt-reddie @dadbodrichie @thorn-harvester-ven @eddiekasbpark @sparklingrainbowdragon @ransonelovebot @gloire-celeste @derrylosers @3tothe1 @virgo-luthie @sashadrowned

[thedevilnamedlola]

"Usually, I lie. At a party, someone asks the question. It’s someone who hasn’t smelled the rancid decay of week-dead flesh or heard the rattle of fluid flooding lungs. I shake the ice in my glass, smile, and lie. When they say, “I bet you always get that question,” I roll my eyes and agree.

There are plenty of in-between stories to delve into; icky, miraculous ones and reams of the hilarious and stupid. I did, after all, become a paramedic knowing it would stack my inner shelves with a library of human tragicomedy. I am a writer, and we are nothing if not tourists gawking at our own and other people’s misery. No?

The dead don’t bother me. Even the near-dead, I’ve made my peace with. When we meet, there’s a very simple arrangement: Either they’re provably past their expiration date and I go about my business, RIP, or they’re not and I stay. A convenient set of criteria delineates the provable part: if they have begun to decay; if rigor mortis has set in; if the sedentary blood has begun to pool at their lowest point, discoloring the skin like a slowly gathering bruise. The vaguest criterion is called obvious death, and we use it in those bizarre special occasions that people are often sniffing for when they ask questions at parties: decapitations, dismemberments, incinera- tions, brains splattered across the sidewalk. Obvious death.

One of my first obvious deaths was a portly Mexican man who had been bicycling along the highway that links Brooklyn to Queens. He’d been hit by three cars and a dump truck, which was the only one that stopped. The man wasn’t torn apart or flattened, but his body had twisted into a pretzel; arms wrapped around legs. Somewhere in there was a shoulder. Obvious death. His bike lay a few feet away, gnarled like its owner. Packs and packs of Mexican cigarettes scattered across the highway. It was three a.m. and a light rain sprinkled the dead man, the bicycle, the cigarette packs, and me, made us all glow in the sparkle of police flares. I was brand new; cars kept rushing past, slowing down, rushing past.

Obvious death. Which means there’s nothing we can do, which means I keep moving with my day, with my life, with whatever I’ve been pondering until this once-alive-now-inanimate object fell into my path.If I can’t check off any of the boxes—if I can’t prove the person’s dead—I get to work and the resuscitation flowchart erupts into a tree of brand-new and complex options. Start CPR, intubate, find a vein, put an IV in it. If there’s no vein and you’ve tried twice, drill an even bigger needle into the flat part of the bone just below the knee. Twist till you feel a pop, attach the IV line. If the heart is jiggling, shock it; if it’s flatlined, fill it with drugs. If the family lingers, escort them out; if they look too hopeful, ease them toward despair. If time slips past and the dead stay dead, call it. Signs of life? Scoop ’em up and go.

You see? Simple.

Except then one day you find one that has a quiet smile on her face, her arms laying softly at her sides, her body relaxed. She is ancient, a crinkled flower, and was dying for weeks, years. The fam- ily cries foul: She had wanted to go in peace. A doctor, a social worker, a nurse—at some point all opted not to bother having that difficult conversation, perhaps because the family is Dominican and the Spanish translator wasn’t easily reachable and anyway, someone else would have it, surely, but no one did. And now she’s laid herself down, made all her quiet preparations and slipped gently away. Without that single piece of paper though, none of the lamentations matter, the peaceful smile doesn’t matter. You set to work, the tree of options fans out, your blade sweeps her tongue aside and you battle in an endotracheal tube; needles find their mark. Bumps emerge on the flat line, a slow march of tiny hills that resolve into tighter scribbles. Her pulse bounds against your fingers; she is alive.

But not awake, perhaps never to be again. You have brought not life but living death, and fuck what I’ve seen, because that, my friends at the party, my random interlocutor who doesn’t know the reek of decay, that is surely one of the craziest things I have ever done.

But that’s not what I say. I lie.

Which is odd because I did, after all, become a medic to fill the library stacks, yes? An endless collection of human frailty vignettes: disasters and the expanding ripple of trauma. No, that’s not quite true. There was something else, I’m sure of it.

And anyway, here at this party, surrounded by eager listeners with drinks in hand, mouths slightly open, ready to laugh or gasp, I, the storyteller, pause. In that pause, read my discomfort.

On the job, we literally laugh in the face of death. In our crass humor and easy flow between tragedy and lunch break, outsiders see callousness: We have built walls, ceased to feel. As one who laughs, I assure you that this is not the case. When you greet death on the daily, it shows you new sides of itself, it brings you into the fold. Gradually, or maybe quickly, depending on who you are, you make friends with it. It’s a wary kind of friendship at first, with the kind of stilted conversation you might have with a man who picked you up hitch- hiking and turns out to have a pet boa constrictor around his neck. Death smiles because death always wins, so you can relax. When you know you won’t win, it lets you focus on doing everything you can to try to win anyway, and really, that’s all there is: The Effort.

The Effort cleanses. It wards off the gathering demons of doubt. When people wonder how we go home and sleep easy after bearing witness to so much pain, so much death, the answer is that we’re not bearing witness. We’re working. Not in the paycheck sense, but in the sense of The Effort. When it’s real, not one of the endless parade of chronic runny noses and vague hip discomforts, but a true, soon- to-be-dead emergency? Everything falls away. There is the patient, the family, the door. Out the door is the ambulance and then farther down the road, the hospital. That’s it. That’s all there is.

Awkward text messages from exes, career uncertainties, generalized aches and pains: They all disintegrate beneath the hugeness that is someone else’s life in your hands. The guy’s heart is failing; fluid backs up in those feebly pumping chambers, erupts into his lungs, climbs higher and higher, and now all you hear is the raspy clatter every time he breathes. Is his blood pressure too high or too low? You wrap the cuff on him as your partner finds an IV. The monitor goes on. A thousand possibilities open up before you: He might start getting better, he might code right there, the ambulance might stall, the medicine might not work, the elevator could never come. You cast off the ones you can’t do anything about, see about another IV because the one your partner got already blew. You’re sweating when you step back and realize nothing you’ve done has helped, and then everything becomes even simpler, because all you can do is take him to the hospital as fast as you can move without totaling the rig.

He doesn’t make it. You sweated and struggled and calculated and he doesn’t make it, and dammit if that ain’t the way shit goes, but also, you’re hungry. And you’re alive, and you’ve wracked your body and mind for the past hour trying to make this guy live. Death won, but death always wins, the ultimate spoiler alert. You can only be that humbled so many times and then you know: Death always wins. It’s a warm Thursday evening and grayish orange streaks the horizon. There’s a pizza place around the corner; their slices are just the right amount of doughy. You check inside yourself to see if anything’s shattered and it’s not, it’s not. You are alive. You have not shattered.

You have not shattered because of The Effort. The Effort cleanses because you have become a part of the story, you are not passive, the very opposite of passive, in fact. Having been humbled, you feel amazing. Every moment is precise and the sky ripples with delight as you head off to the pizza place, having hurled headlong into the game and given every inch of yourself, if only for a moment, to a losing struggle.

It’s not adrenaline, although they’ll say that it is, again and again. It is the grim, heartbroken joy of having taken part. It is the difference between shaking your head at the nightly news and taking to the streets. It’s when you finally tell her how you really feel, the moment you craft all your useless repetitive thoughts into a prayer.

At the party, as they look on expectantly, I draft one of the lesser moments of horror as a stand-in. The evisceration, that will do. That single strand of intestine just sitting on the man’s belly like a lost worm. He was dying too, but he lived. It was a good story, a terrible night.

I was new and I didn’t know if I’d done anything right. He lived, but only by a hair. I magnified each tiny decision to see if I’d erred and came up empty. There was no way to know. Eventually I stopped taking jobs home with me. I released the ghosts of what I’d done or hadn’t done, let The Effort do what it does and cleanse me in the very moment of crisis. And then one night I met a tiny three-year old girl in overalls, all smiles and high-fives and curly hair. We were there because a neighbor had called it in as a burn, but the burns were old. Called out on his abuse, the father had fled the scene. The emergency, which had been going on for years, had ended and only just begun.

The story unraveled as we drove to the hospital; I heard it from the front seat. The mother knew all along, explained it in jittery, sobbing replies as the police filled out their forms. It wasn’t just the burns; the abuse was sexual too. There’d been other hospital visits, which means that people who should’ve seen it didn’t, or didn’t bother setting the gears in motion to stop it. I parked, gave the kid another high five, watched her walk into the ER holding a cop’s hand.

Then we had our own forms to fill out. Bureaucracy’s response to unspeakable tragedy is more paperwork. Squeeze the horror into easy-to-fathom boxes, cull the rising tide of rage inside and check and recheck the data, complete the forms, sign, date, stamp, insert into a metal box and then begin the difficult task of forgetting.

The job followed me down Gun Hill Road; it laughed when I pretended I was okay. I stopped on a corner and felt it rise in me like it was my own heart failing this time, backing fluids into my lungs, breaking my breath. I texted a friend, walked another block. A sob came out of somewhere, just one. It was summer. The breeze felt nice and nice felt shitty.

My phone buzzed. Do you want to talk about it?

I did. I wanted to talk about it and more than that I wanted to never have seen it and even more than that I wanted to have done something about it and most of all, I wanted it never to have hap- pened, never to happen again. The body remembers. We carry each trauma and ecstasy with us and they mark our stride and posture, contort our rhythm until we release them into the summer night over Gun Hill Road. I knew it wasn’t time to release just yet; you can’t force these things. I tapped the word no into my phone and got on the train.

I don’t tell that one either. Stories with trigger warnings don’t go over well at parties. But when the question is asked, the little girl’s smile and her small, bruised arms appear in my mind.

The worst tragedies don’t usually get 911 calls, because they are patient, unravel over centuries. While we obsess over the hyperviolent mayhem, they seep into our subconscious, poison our sense of self, upend communities, and gnaw away at family trees with intergenerational trauma.I didn’t pick up my pen just to bear witness. None of us did. And I didn’t become a medic to get a front-row seat to other people’s tragedies. I did it because I knew the world was bleeding and so was I, and somewhere inside I knew the only way to stop my own bleeding was to learn how to stop someone else’s. Another call crackles over the radio, we pick up the mic and push the button and drive off. Death always wins, but there is power in our tiniest moments, humanity in shedding petty concerns to make room for compassion. We witness, take part, heal. The work of healing in turn heals us and we begin again, laughing mournfully, and put pen to paper.

Daniel José Older"

[unwiltingblossom]

Queen’s Favor (Mysme Jumin/MC AU 7/?)

Summary: Being a maid would be much easier if the cat would just let her do her job.

AU - Instead of joining the RFA via random text, MC is hired on as one of the maids assigned to Jumin Han’s penthouse. Nothing else about the setting has changed, the messenger and the RFA still exist, only the MC’s position has been altered.

"...I'm gonna sue him for emotional anguish."

The bed hurt her back.

The blankets were flimsy and scratchy. One of her neighbors screamed in time with the clanging of metal on sheet rock and that damn dog barked in response each time, like it thought they were communicating.

Her shower wasn't that great, either.

She stared up at the ceiling, refusing to move from the bed that felt much like she'd just went ahead and lied down on the floor. "...I'm gonna sue him for emotional anguish." Three days living in the lap of luxury just made her modest apartment feel less 'affordable' and more of 'a hole in the wall that led directly underground into a troll's cave'.

She groaned and crossed her arms over her face with a sigh. "Well. If I just got to keep that job, I could eventually afford to get that, too...never." She couldn't kid herself: one didn't ever catch up to the person paying them, or their roles would end up reversing.

The briefly flitting image of her employer stuck cleaning her big ol' penthouse somewhere did cushion the discomfort of her bed.

Regardless, the pay would go back to where it was before, but at least her workload would also go back to something easy. And the risks of the cat being mauled or kidnapped while on her watch were vastly reduced. That was good for both her job security and her lifespan.

Her phone lit in the darkness, the vibration of an incoming call just audible around the rest of the sounds of the night. The caller ID showed a bunch of random numbers she didn't recognize, however, so she rejected the call. It seemed a bit late for a spam caller, but then...maybe it was some foreign company going down a list of numbers.

Still, since she'd moved again, there was no reason not to turn the television on. Yes, her television was smaller and about 8000p less crisp than the one in the penthouse, but it was also much closer to her face while she was comfortably lying in bed than the ones scattered through that house.

She propped her hand on a cheek as she flipped channels.

And startled herself as a the middle of some loud note cut through the room. A trio of actors spun on a stage, singing some song about dogs. Was it that one stage production of 'Not All Dogs Go to Heck'?

"Someone from this city was in it, right...?" She mumbled to herself, tapping her cheek with one finger. One of her coworkers had mentioned wanting to go see it, which was the reason she knew the name.

Well. That presumed there weren't other stage plays with a bunch of attractive men dressed up as dogs in them running recently. I wouldn't know. Who has time to go to plays when there's whole penthouses to clean?

She scoffed lightly in the dark.

The final note of the song focused on some pale man that the camera tried (and mostly failed, given its distance from the stage) to zoom in on while he sang. "Now there's a dog I'd pet."

Still, once the actors broke and moved on to the next scene, she turned the channel again.

No way was she going to watch a bunch of men dancing on stage dressed up like dogs just because one of them was extremely pretty.

So of course she ended up on 'Makeover My Already Beautiful Home'.

--

The soreness was really just a placebo. Mostly. Falling asleep watching television wasn't the most comfortable position she could have laid in all night, but she refused to accept that her body was actually ruined for her normal bed.

No! She wouldn't be so weak. Three nights in a heavenly bed - two, plus a rockin' couch - wouldn't break her!

Standing in the empty apartment (really more of a house) in her uniform. This was much more familiar and comfortable. She always felt a bit guilty when ordering food from room service, and had been sure each time she sat down in her night gown on the couch to chow down on a pint of ice cream the enigmatic owner would just pop into the building suddenly. Now...! He still might pop in suddenly, but she at least knew he'd mostly just ignore she existed and let her do her job.

Speaking of her job.

While crawling under the guest bed to catch the hidden dust and hair trapped underneath, unmistakable little paws dropped down on the small of her back, walked a step over to the swell of her hips, and then evidently lost their grip and slid off to the ground with a sudden thump.

"...Really, Elizabeth?" She turned her head, too trapped under the bed to move much more without risking getting stuck (she absolutely refused to add that to the list of things her boss caught her doing when he returned home). Fortunately, the cat was in view at the edge of the bed anyway, blue eyes blankly staring at her. As if offended she had a problem.

Or maybe just offended she wasn't there to play with last night. Who knew?

"It's not my job to play with you today. I'm not gonna take a break right when I got here. Your dad would know."

"I suppose I would."

She screamed.

Also, hit her head and nearly knocked the bed down on herself.

"Ow, ow, owww!"

With what seemed like surprising swiftness - but who knew, with how hard she'd just whacked her head - hands appeared at her waist and the elbow not under the bed. The man behind her pulled her out from under the bit of furniture and righted her quickly enough to leave her dizzy. Or, again, the possible concussion.

The face of her...damn...employer...scrunched up in concern for a few moments, as he brushed fingers through her hair, apparently searching for damage. Weirdly, she was pretty sure the fingers that he withdrew from the back of her head were redder than they should be.

"You're injured."

"No, no." She shook her head, which was a mistake. The whole room spun. "It's just..a placebo."

For a terrible moment, a wave of nausea crashed through her and she thought she'd vomit right on her employer.

Fortunately, she just headbutted his chest.

--

As it turned out, it was a very mild concussion. Which was, frankly, pretty reassuring. Knocking herself out and giving herself a mild concussion just from getting startled doing absolutely nothing wrong was enough. Getting anything worse was officially Too Much.

This job was well paying, but she had a growing suspicion it wasn't his finicky nature or cat that kept people away, but the peril that somehow came with the job.

That was probably just the concussion talking, though.

She thought for a full minute that the figure sitting primly in a chair near the bed was also a result of that, but apparently mild concussions didn't cause quite that level of hallucination, as the doctor eventually spoke to him.

"...Although it wasn't my intention, it seems I caused you injury." He spoke coolly, but there did seem to be a certain amount of penitence in his voice? Yeah. She was pretty sure that was the case. It wasn't a terrible sound.

Well, anyway, if they were saying it for the record, she caused her injury. But it sounded better his way. "Technically, it was the bed."

His lips quirked up into a barely there smile for a moment. "I'll press charges on it immediately."

Charges...

Wait...was he waiting here because he'd come home with some complaint...?

Was it that cat kidnapper?! Did Mina say something?

"This visit has been paid for. And of course, you'll get your full pay for however many days you need to stay home to recover as well." He stood, taking a step closer to the bed. "If there's anything else that you need, any follow-up visits, extended time off-"

"No." She shook her head - which made her slightly less dizzy this time. Good! Getting better already! "It's fine! It's honestly not the first time I've worked through a mild concussion, and most of the time I'm not doing anything strenuous anyway. I'd rather just get back to work. Uh...tomorrow, I guess..." Since a bout of unconsciousness ending up in a hospital bed probably drained all her working hours away.

His brows knit. "What?"

"It's fine, really!" She waved her hand. "Honestly, this is all my fault anyway. If I'd been paying more attention I wouldn't have been so startled. And that last weekend left me with more than enough to cover anything frivolous!" Although it did kill any vacation plans or saving up for penthouses..

"Besides, if anyone else does your house, they won't know how to take care of Elizabeth and she'll get lonely or start shedding, and my work will be just that much harder when I get back. And they probably won't be prepared for that weird friend of yours to try to sneak in and get her anyway, who knows how frazzled she'll be by then..."

Oh, she was still rambling. She could tell because the man just stood there staring at her with an expression that said something like 'oh no, my weird maid has brain damage and can't stop talking about my cat'. Or...okay, honestly, she couldn't read his expression at all, but it's what she'd be thinking.

So she shut up.

He remained silent for a few moments, before giving a small nod. "If you're working, then the standards of your work will be the same regardless of any injury."

"Yes, sir!"

He hesitated a moment longer, before nodding and turning to leave. Evidently, now that there was no danger of her trying to sue him, he had no reason to linger. Which did make sense. Yes.

"...Wait."

He did. Huh.

"You were home really early, right? What was that about?"

He looked back at her, blinking in silence a moment, as if trying to comprehend her question. Finally, he said. "I had forgotten my watch."

Oh.

Alright then.

--

Walking back into work felt a little like walking into a battlefield.

Like the price she paid for the sweet paycheck wasn't the work itself, but the heavenly dice rolling each time she stepped inside, just to see if she got a good, normal day, or if something awful and painful would happen that would leave her sore for days over some stupid thing.

The supplies she'd brought in the day before were neatly arranged near the door. A folded piece of paper and a small box sat atop the largest piece of equipment. Likely a note from the owner.

One hand picked up the letter, while the other picked up the nondescript box. The box was a bit heavy. Which probably meant he left some kind of apology chocolate.

She had to give him credit. The man did not want to be sued.

Inside the letter read -

 My apologies for the mishap yesterday.

 I've been told it's best to provide a gift for this sort of apology.

 In the future, please be careful with furniture.

"Says the king of jump scares."

She sighed, setting the letter on the key stand near the door, and flopped the box open.

Then nearly dropped it right to the ground.

It was a charm bracelet in the shape of a diamond, with the face of Elizabeth the 3rd painted onto the charm. More importantly, though, the chunky bracelet and charm were solid gold. Or at least they looked that way when she opened it. And also felt like it when she finally plucked up the bravery to touch them.

"This...has got to be inappropriate."

She still pocketed it, though.

She wasn't insane.