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sprnklersplashes · 3 years

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songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending)

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black. She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #cadnis ff #cady x janis #space safari #mean girls musical

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

Text

Rock Bottom

Joe Liebgott x OC

*Rated T for language and adult themes. (5,471 words)

“Have you guys seen that new girl?” Frank Perconte asked as he squeezed into a small seat along the dining table bench.

“What new girl?” Bill Guarnere asked through a bite of food.

“The new intelligence girl,” Frank said as means of explanation.

“She’s an intelligence officer?” Joe Liebgott asked.

“I heard she was with the OSS before this,” Pat Christensen added.

“I don’t think intelligence officer,” Frank pushed the food around on his plate, “but apparently she speaks like 20 languages.”

“No,” Joe said doubtfully, “no way, that’s so many.”

“Who knows? Once you know one language it’s easier to pick up others,” David Webster said.

Joe shot him an annoyed look.

“I think she’s from the Bronx too, Web.”

“Well hey, there ya go! There’s so many languages going around in the Bronx, she probably picked them up there. It’s so much easier to learn languages when you’re young ya-“

“Where’d you get all this info?” Bill cut David off.

“Luz.” Frank was barely intelligible with his mouth full.

“Hm,” Bill grunted. The information was likely true coming from George Luz, the kid had a way of finding things out.

Their formal introduction to the newest G-2 recruit occurred the next day prior to starting their classroom instruction. The men hadn’t expected the classroom time. They knew the forecast had predicted rain but they didn’t dare to hope Sobel would let them off just because of “a little water”. However, by eleven, the early morning drizzle had grown into a downpour that even Sobel didn’t want to be caught in. He relinquished his company to the instruction of basic compass and map reading.

“Gentleman,” Sobel addressed them dryly, his hands folded behind his back, “before we get started, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of the intelligence general staff.”

The men were gathered in a large tent propped up by recently constructed whitewood. Beside Sobel stood a woman dressed neatly in an army issued pencil skirt, jacket and tie.

“This is Valerie Marchetti, she will be working with the intelligence office as a linguist.”

“Told ya she knew like 20 languages,” Frank whispered to Joe.

“Italian!” Bill nudged Johnny Martin.

“Please make every effort to make her feel welcome,” Sobel finished unenthusiastically, “Alright, let's get started. Radio men, follow Ms. Marchetti.”

“Lucky!” Floyd Talbert clapped George on the shoulder as he stood up. George winked at him with a grin.

“So, what’s she like?” Floyd asked as they headed back to the barracks.

“Aw she’s an angel,” George enthused, “so sweet, and she knows her stuff too!”

“You’d think anyone that pretty was an angel, Luz,” Frank said.

“That,” George said, “is because angels are beautiful.”

But George wasn’t the only one over the moon to have a woman among them. All of the Toccoa men were eager for any chance to ogle Valerie. They were oversexed and grateful to have a beautiful woman in their midst, if only for the hope of earning a smile. Most of the men were limited in their interactions with her seeing as she was part of the intelligence general staff but somehow Bill really got to know her, and by extension, Johnny Martin did too. They became a trio on nights out. Bill jumping from group to group, socializing with all the men while the more mellow Johnny posted up at a table with Valerie.

“Does she actually know 20 languages?” Shifty asked Bill innocently.

“Nah, not actually twenty, but she knows quite a few. She’s damn smart!” Bill said taking a long drink of his beer.

“What languages does she know?” Joe asked.

“Italian, her pa’s Italian. Polish ‘cuz of her ma. Yiddish and I think her German’s okay too,” Bill listed.

Joe nodded thoughtfully, “not bad,” he admitted. “Not gonna be any use to us if we go to Japan though.”

Bill shrugged, “who knows where we’re goin’, they got her here for a reason.”

“Was she posted somewhere else before this?” Moe Alley asked.

“She was a code breaker! Can you believe that? So smart,” Bill shook his head in awe.

“Ya sound like you’re in love there, Bill,” Joe teased.

“God damn right, I love that girl. She’s great!”

Joe chuckled, she was a good looking dame that was for sure. Just his type: curvaceous, dark hair and warm eyes. He admired her just as much as every other guy in the bar. There were plenty of local women around, some of who Joe had gotten to know quite well, but there was something about that army pencil skirt that just did it for Joe.

“She gotta fella?” Joe heard himself asking.

“Why? You interested Joe?” Bill asked.

Joe shrugged, “just curious.”

Bill looked over his shoulder where Valerie sat smiling, her full lips painted a rich red. “I don’t think so, but I’ll tell ya what Joe, she’s not any ol’ dame. She’s a spicy one that’s for sure. She’ll tell you what’s what.”

Yeah, Joe found that out for himself the first time he experienced classroom instruction with Valerie Marchetti.

“Well, actually we’d actually refer to this group as the Allgemeine SS,” Valerie said.

“Deutsche Ausrüstungswerke is German Equipment factories so I don’t-“ Joe defended.

“Well yes, but it’s important to know that this is an armaments division under the SS, Allgemeine SS.”  “Are you sure? You said yourself you aren’t fluent in German, are you sure you’re translating-“

“Yes. I don’t speak fluent German but I know these terms and I know the organization of the SS. You would do well to listen to me, I know what I’m talking about.” Valerie snapped.

“Okay, calm down,” Joe threw his hands up.

Valerie sniffed at his gaslighting before spinning on her heel and walking away. After that it was game over, nothing about her was attractive to Joe any longer; not her silky, dark curls, not her full red lips, not the way the dark lines on her hose travelled seductively up her leg. He decided she was more trouble than she was worth.

A cheer rose up from the dart boards that Friday night where Bill, Johnny, and Bull were playing darts with Valerie. She was wearing trousers that night, which Joe found rather flattering. But he caught himself as his gaze travelled down from her waist, and quickly looked away.

“Okay, if I make this last one, drinks are on me.” Valerie bit her lip in concentration.

“Well now I kinda want you to win,” Bill said jovially.

“Ah!” The men around her cheered again as the dart hit another bullseye.

“Damn, how do you do it?” asked Don Malarkey in awe.

Valeria smiled coyly and shrugged. “Who needs a drink?” she asked to the men gathered.

“Nah, you can’t possibly cover all the drinks here,” Bill held up his hand in protest, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

“Don’t worry about it Bill, I pretty much owe everyone in here a drink anyways after the way they all tripped over themselves to buy me a drink when I first got here.”

The men sung her praises all the way up to the bar where Valerie instructed the tender to pour everyone in proximity a beer and to put it on her tab. She had come up right where Joe had been standing with Moe. Valerie glanced down at his nearly empty glass, “you need a beer Joe?” she asked.

“No thanks, still workin’ on this one.” Joe held up his glass.

“James?” Valerie asked Moe. He nodded appreciatively and accepted the drink even though his original glass held more than Joes.

“You sure Joe?” Valerie asked in a sing song voice. It grated on Joe’s nerves.

“I’m good, thank you though Valerie.” His dark eyes met hers. The piercing darkness of them sent a shiver down her spine and she abruptly looked away, blushing.

Joe was walking back from the latrine later that night when he heard some voices out in the dark, in the direction of HQ. The tone of the two male voices that carried on the air made Joe stand to alert. The speakers weren’t too loud, but there was a forcefulness to them. Then the voice of an agitated female broke through. A coldness rushed into Joe blood. He rushed towards the noise. He came upon two F company men who were walking on either side of Valerie. They were walking fast, the pace clearly set by Valerie who sped forward. The men kept in step with with her all while trying to box her in between their bodies.

“Hey!” Joe snapped, stopping them in their course, “what the hell is going on here?”

Joe looked at Valerie, a chilling look in her eyes: fear.

The men hardly seemed bothered by Joe’s presence. “We’re just making sure this young lady gets back to her quarters safely,” one said.

“Are you?” Joe asked, “do you even know her?”

“Sure we do,” the other said arrogantly, “mind your business pal.”

“Val, you know these guys?” Joe asked. Even with adrenaline coursing through his body he winced internally at his use of her nickname. He wasn’t familiar with her like that, why did he call her Val in that moment?

“Don’t worry about it Joe, I can take care of myself,” she said firmly, “I’m just right here,” she turned towards the main HQ building where she was posted up with the other few females. The men made to follow her into the darkness. Although it was only yards away, there were too many spots of darkness for Joe to feel comfortable letting those men follow her all the way up to her doorstep. Joe stepped in front of them, giving Valerie the time and space to disappear into the fold of the night.

“What’s your problem man?” one of the men snarled.

“It’s late, you’re just gonna have to accept you struck out tonight,” Joe sneered back.

The other man, who was significantly larger than Joe, took a menacing step forward. “She your girl or something?” he asked with narrow eyes.

“She’s no ones girl,” Joe said, and he turned away to head back to his barracks.

“Hey, you should’ve stayed out of it, guy.” Then Joe felt a hand on his collar spin him around before a fist made contact with his eye.

“Do you know what guys from F company?” Edward Tipper asked as he took in the blue and blackness that was beginning to come out around Joe’s eye socket.

Joe shrugged into his breakfast, “whatever, I’m not worried about it.”

“Those bastards,” Moe said, “we oughta give them what they deserve.”

“I said I’m not worried about it,” Joe said, “will you drop it?” His friends reluctantly sat back.

It was then Joe noticed Valerie standing a few feet away, a breakfast tray clutched in her hands. She was staring mournfully at the injuries he incurred. As soon as his eyes met hers she quickly walked to the table where Johnny sat, taking a place beside him and disappearing behind the figures of the Easy Company men she loved. Not Joe, he was not part of that group.

“Joe,” Valerie came up behind him as he was bussing his tray. He turned around to face her. Bags hung under her eyes but her signature red lipstick was applied flawlessly.

“Yeah?” he asked impassively.

“Um, I..” she hesitated, taking in his appearance. His jacket was unbuttoned, revealing his PT shirt. His dog tags hung heavy around his lean neck. His cheek bones were sharp, the top of the left one was split just slightly below where the blueness had spread to fill his entire eye socket. Valerie winced looking at him.

“I just want to say I appreciate you checking in on me last night,” Valerie began.

“Don’t mention,” Joe flicked his hand dismissively and began to walk away.

“But you didn’t need to, I feel bad, you’re eye, I would’ve been fine-“

Joe looked at her like she was crazy, “Valerie I saw how you looked last night, you knew it wasn’t goin’ in a good direction.”

“I was almost back to my quarters, I would’ve been fine,” she insisted.

Joe let out a sharp laugh, “why were you alone anyway? Walking in the dark?”

“It’s none of your business,” Valerie said.

“Wow, this is a hell of a thank you, Val,” Joe winced. Damn it, why did he keep using that nickname?

Valerie wrinkled her own nose in discomfort, “well thank you, but next time I got myself.”

“Valerie I wasn’t going to just leave you there!”  “You don’t need to worry about me! I can take care of myself,” she doubled down.

“God damn it, would you get over yourself?” Joe snapped. Valerie reeled back in momentary shock.

“Get over myself?”

“Those guys were trouble! We both know it!”

“Get over myself? What do you mean? You don’t trust me-“

“I don’t even know you, I would’ve done the same for any girl-“  “So because I’m a girl you don’t trust me to take care of myself?”

“It was two against one.”  “I’m a soldier same as you and you were prepared to take them on-“

“Don’t be ignorant, it’s diff-“

“Ignorant? Who’s calling who ignorant?”

“See, you just think you’re so much better than every-“

“I have to be better than everyone! I have to work twice as hard as everyone here!”

“In your cozy little intelligence office? Yeah, sure, try doing the stuff we have to do.”

“I have to train too! I’m strong!”  “But not strong enough to-“

“I am strong enough!”

“Look what those bastards did to me, you don’t think they would’ve done the same to you?”

“Well, maybe not, because like you said I’m just a girl.”

“Yeah well let me tell you that’s exactly why they could’ve done worse.”

“Do you just assume the worst of your compatriots?”  “Do you not? How dumb are you? I thought you were from the city!”  “You know what, just stay out of it next time Liebgott. I don’t want you getting injured on my behalf.” Valerie stormed away angrily.

“You’re welcome!”Joe shouted after her defiantly. “God damn it,” he cursed under his breath. He kicked a trash bin nearly kicking it over, “fuck this.”

Joe was still heated later that night when he finally retired to the barracks.

“Tough day, Joe?” Bull asked. A cigar hung from his mouth as he unlaced his boots.

“Little bit,” Joe eased down on his bed. His face throbbed where he had been hit. Bull looked up at him thoughtfully, “everything alright now?” he asked cryptically.

“All good, Bull,” Joe lay back on his cot exhaling.

“Not all good,” John Martin was suddenly standing over him, “you were fighting with Valerie?”

“Not really, it’s fine,” Joe draped an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the little light that filled their canvas living quarters.

“It better be, I heard you two shouting at each other earlier. What’d you do to deserve that?”

Joe sat up, “I didn’t do anything!”

John crossed his arms and eyed Joe suspiciously, “well, if she’s after you you probably deserve it.” He stalked off and Joe fell back onto his bed.

“She’s a tough one that Valerie,” Bull said.

“So I’ve heard,” Joe muttered.

“No shit from nobody,” Bull continued.

“You gotta point, Bull?” Joe snapped glaring at the guy in the bunk next to him.

Bull chewed on his cigar, carefully considering what he was going to say next, “it was good of you to look out for her. You did the right thing, Joe.”

Joe hadn’t expected that. He nodded at Bull then rolled over in his bunk. He didn’t know how much Bull knew, or what exactly he had heard through the grapevine, but Bull’s words meant more than he thought the would. Finally a little acknowledgment for preventing the crime he had seen coming. No matter how tough she was, there’s no stopping that when two men decide they’re going to do it.

Joe slid his arm under his pillow, trying to get comfortable. That’s when his hand grazed something hard and rectangular. From underneath his pillow he pulled out a chocolate bar. Wrapped around it, fastened with twine, was a note. In neat cursive were the words: You were right. Thank you for your help.

Joe couldn’t help but smile a little bit. Who the fuck was this woman.

She was a goddamn rule following narc when she wanted to be, that’s who she was. Joe and Moe may or may not have snuck out of the base one Tuesday night and gotten pissed at a nearby bar. They were too drunk to be cautious when they stumbled back onto base, their arms around each other, singing.

Valerie was walking along the well lit path to the women’s latrine when she ran into them.

“What are you guys doing?” she hissed confronting them.

“Hello sweetheart,” Moe slurred with a grin.

“Valerie!” Joe said enthusiastically, “wow thank you for the Hershey bar.”

Valerie flushed bright red, “you guys are being so loud! You’re going to get in trouble.” She looked them up and down, “how drunk are you?”  “Not drunk at all,” Moe shook his head.

Valerie wrinkled her nose, “sure smells like you are.”

“That’s rude Valerie,” Joe said jokingly.

“Yeah well you guys are going to get all of Easy in trouble tomorrow if you show up hungover.”

“We’ll be fine!” Moe waved his hand, “don’t worry about us, doll.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Valerie said sharply, “its the rest of the company you’re screwin’ over. Goodnight!” she walked off shaking her head.

“What a bitch,” Moe said off-handedly.

“She’s not a bitch,” Joe immediately snapped.

Moe swayed in place, grinning stupidly at his friend. “Whoa there, you’re not in love with her now too are you?”

Joe rolled his eyes and the men stumbled back to their barracks, now a little quieter.

He would never admit it after the way Valerie had confronted them, but waking up the next day was rough. Joe was determined to keep it together just to spite Valerie. He had muscled through the morning and was hoping for a moment of respite at lunch. But to his great misfortune, tuna casserole was being served. Joe’s stomach churned as he looked down into his plate. He was hungry but he was sure that the final remains of alcohol digesting inside of him would not be happy to share his stomach with this meal.

As he contemplated whether to eat or not, Joe felt eyes on him. He looked up to see Valerie’s sympathetic face from across the mess hall. She smiled at him tenderly at him and he immediately felt pathetic in her eyes. A irrational sense of anger flared up in him and he stabbed at the casserole with his fork. He brought a first big bite into his mouth all while maintaining eye contact with Valerie. The sympathetic smile dropped from her face as she watched his performance. She narrowed her eyes, her lip curling in disgust at his juvenile defiance.

After the meal ended she came up to him, her tray as empty as his was.

“Feeling alright, Joe?” she asked as sweet as syrup.

Perspiration was beginning to form on his forehead. He was not feeling alright, in fact he felt rather clammy. Moe had done the wise thing and only eaten his buttered bread. Joe was seriously regretting not doing the same.

“Feelin’ great, how’re you feeling, Valerie?” he asked obstinately.

“I’m feeling great too,” she said smugly, because she was, and he clearly was not even if he wasn’t admitting it. “Enjoy the rest of the day!” She sashayed off.

Luckily, the mess hall was mostly empty because as soon as she was out of sight, Joe dived for a nearby trashcan and regurgitated the lunch he had just consumed.

“Better out than in,” Moe said as means of comfort, looking equally washed up.

By the end of the week Joe was ready to go out again. Just as it happens to all young men, the short term memory of how he felt after a night of binge drinking had left him by that Saturday night. Having secured and successfully retained their weekend passes, Joe and his friends bought tickets to the dance that Saturday evening.

The majority of Easy Company had the same idea and they, along with the other companies of the 101st airborne, filled the local dance hall. Joe was having a pretty good time. Beer was flowing, the band was hopping, and there was an endless supply of beautiful women to dance with. Joe was taking a break from the dance floor when he spotted Valerie spinning across the room in the arms of a dark haired gentleman from another company.

“Look at her,” Edward said appreciatively from next to Joe.

“Who?” Joe asked, pretending not to know who his friend was referring to.

“I know you don’t like her much, but Valerie, she is a looker,” Edward whistled.

Joe scowled but allowed himself a moment to check Valerie out. She wore a slightly-outdated red belted dress. Little white flowers peppered the fabric from the hem to the shoulders where the cinched neckline generously revealed her delicate collarbones.

Joe cleared his throat, “yeah, but there’s lots of good lookin’ broads around tonight.”

Edward just shrugged and downed the rest of his beer before setting out for the dance floor again. Joe did his best to avoid Valerie. He distracted himself with drinks, jokes, and other beautiful women. Despite his best efforts Joe still found himself looking across the low lit dance floor directly into Valerie’s eyes when a version of Mood Indigo came on.

It wasn’t Valerie in his arms, it was another woman. A woman he hadn’t known long enough to truly enjoy the moody slow dance with. Valerie was in the arms of the same guy she’d been with all night and she did look like she was enjoying the dance. Joe realized she was enjoying it a lot more than he wanted her to be.

The glance they had shared had been brief, she had broken it off quickly to nestle her cheek against her fellas shoulder. But that short moment had stirred something in Joe. In the dark golden light of the numerous high-hanging light bulbs Valerie’s eyes had looked like melted amber. The shadows that flickered across the hall softened her face, giving it an ethereal look. She was breathtaking and Joe wanted to be the one with his arm around her waist. He wanted to be the one she leaned her cheek against. He felt an overwhelming unreasonable hatred for this random man he didn’t know simply because he was the one who held Valerie so close.

Once the song ended, Joe politely bid goodbye to his partner and made a beeline for Valerie. She stood talking to her partner and a few other guys Joe didn’t recognize. He approached their group stiffly, his hands in his pockets. Everyone looked surprised at his arrival, especially Valerie, who was obligated to introduce him considering she was the only one who really knew him.

After a quick nod to the group Joe said, “Valerie can I talk to you?” Valerie’s brow furrowed in confusion but she politely excused herself. Joe lead her to an unoccupied side of the room near the door.

“Is something wrong?” Valerie asked, a fresh glass of champagne clutched in her perfectly manicured hands. Joe had no clue as to what he had wanted to say to her or what exactly he wanted from her. His goal had simply been to remove her from that man’s presence. In all honesty, he had no plan because he was confused on how exactly he considered her; was she a friend? An enemy? Or just another beautiful woman?

“Well, I just wanted to give you the option to dance with me,” he hesitated, watching her face for a reaction, “or one of the other Easy guys,” he added.

“Um, I’m alright, thank you, I’ve been happy dancing with-“ she gestured back at her partner.

“That guy? Psh,” Joe said dismissively, “guys a cement mixer, don’t you wanna dance with someone good?”

Red rose up in Valerie’s cheeks, “who? Like you?” she asked.

Joe shrugged, “anyone’s better than that fool.”

“You don’t even know him, Joe.”

Fair point, Joe thought, but he didn’t like the guy. “I can tell he’s a dip, just look at him!” Joe laughed.

“This is a really terrible way of asking me to dance with you!”

“Hey, I’m doin’ you a favor.”

“Me a favor? Could you be more full of yourself?”

“Me full of myself? What about you little miss perfect. I’m not the one walking around acting like you know everything.”

“I know more than you!” “See there you go, why do you gotta go around putting people down?”

“No one seems to have a problem with me except you!” Valerie shot back.

“Take it outside lovebirds,” an intoxicated private said as he passed them.

His interruption killed the argument between them. Instead they just stood glaring at each other, dark brown eyes meeting golden ones.   

Finally, Joe said, “come on, let’s dance.”

“You wish!” Valerie stomped on his foot.

Joe swallowed his curse, “fuck,” he said in a strangled a voice. Valerie turned to stalk away but Joe grabbed her elbow.

“Get off of me,” she hissed, trying her best not to make more of a scene than they already had.

“Come on.” Joe pulled her out the nearest door, throwing them both into the cool Georgian night. Now engulfed by darkness they were really free to fight it out.

“What the fuck was that for?” he demanded.

“Who do you think you are?” she shot back. “Interrupting my evening for what? Just to invite me on a pity dance? I don’t need your pity, I was enjoying myself quite a bit tonight until you started all this!” She threw her hands up in frustration. Some of the champagne from the glass still in her hand spilled over the side, onto her hand. “Ugh,” she exclaimed. She wiped her hand angrily on her dress.

Jealousy stabbed through Joe’s chest at her words. She had been enjoying herself with that guy. “What’s so special about that guy anyways? Didn’t you just meet him tonight?” he sneered.

Valerie opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. She closed it, examining him. A devilish smirk crossed her face, “oh is this what it’s about Joe? You jealous?”

  Yes. “No!” he said, “I just don’t know why you’re all moony over this guy. This is a social, not something you bring a date to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t believe me about what? This isn’t a place for dates? Not usually-”

“That you’re not jealous! What’s your problem Joe? If you’re interested in me just be a man and tell me.”

“Typical, you thinking that everyone has got to be in love with you.”

“Then tell me why you’re being so rude tonight! Either you’re jealous or you hate me.” Was there a third option? Because Joe felt like he was somewhere in between. He definitely didn’t like Valerie. She got under his skin like no one else. At the same time, there was a magnetism about her that kept drawing him in. Those eyes, those lips, even that temper. He wanted to grab her and kiss her just to shut her up.

“And if you hated me you wouldn’t be bothering with all this!”  Joe was barely even listening to her at this point.

He could feel his blood pumping; the adrenaline and anger mixing together to create a roar in ears that made it impossible to comprehend everything she was saying. He knew he was going to do it even as he counseled himself against it. He surprised himself with his sudden movement; he snatched her waist and pulled her into a hard kiss.

Immediately, she pushed him away. “What the hell!” she threw the remainder of her champagne in his face. Cooly, Joe wiped the liquid off his face with the sleeve.

“You told me to tell you!”

“Not like that!”

He stood glaring at her. She glared back, her now empty glass hanging pointlessly from her hand. There was nothing but silence between them, and the chirp of insects in the night sky. The faint sounds from the festivities inside filtered out but Joe and Valerie were completely in their own world, in a standoff.

Then suddenly, mutually, something shifted between them. Flaring rage turned to lust. Simultaneously they lunged for each other. Joe wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hungrily snaking up her thigh. Valerie’s fingers twisted in his hair, tugging at the thick, dark tendrils. He bit down on her lip as she pulled on his hair. Their kisses were messy and hungry; all the pent up anger and tension that had built up between them expressed in an intimate power struggle as they moved to devour each other.

“You drive me crazy,” Joe pulled away for breath.

Her lipstick was completely gone, its last traces staining her swollen mouth red. “I can’t stand you,” she retorted. He kissed her again, tangling her hand in her hair. Their pace slowed from the previous feverish speed to something more sensual without losing its fervor. Joe had her pressed against the building wall. His hands cupped her her jaw and slid down her throat. His mind was muddled with his detestation for this woman and the aching physical desire that was taking over him. She must have felt similarly as one hand pushed against his pelvis, as if warding him off, while the other dug fingernails into the nape of neck, forcing him in closer.

Once again they surfaced for air, this time taking time to really look at each other. The sound of their panting filled the space around them as her eyes searched his for some explanation.

“What’re we doing, Joe?” her voice was oddly vulnerable. Joe traced her jaw with a calloused thumb.

“I don’t know.” He pushed away from her and ran a hand through his tousled hair. Cold air entered the space where their bodies were previously connected. It sent a shiver through Valerie. “I don’t know,” Joe repeated.

He stepped back even further into the dark, his hand on his hips. He kicked a rock on the ground.

“You don’t like me,” Valerie said with the slight intonation of a question. Joe sucked his teeth. “And,” she continued slowly, “I don’t know if I like you.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you,” Joe said.

Valerie crossed her arms, her eyes bore into him. She was waiting for him to say something else, to offer a but. But it never came.

After a few unbearable minutes of silence she finally said, “I’m going back inside, Joe.” The patch of darkness he stood in was filled with a momentary field of light as she opened the door. Then, she was gone and Joe was alone in the darkness.

Joe did his best to avoid Valerie after that, but he felt her golden eyes on him in the mess hall. He wanted to provide her with answers, to tell her how he was feeling, but he didn’t know. He told himself there was a nothing to like about her - she was a pretentious kiss ass who seemed to have every guy wrapped around her finger. But he saw through her - he wasn’t going to fall for her like everyone else had.

Yet, she consumed his thoughts. All the pieces of love and hate swirled in his mind as he desperately tried to conceive a clear way to explain how he was feeling. He didn’t like her, but he might be falling in love with her. But even if he had realized this sooner, it still came too late.

In a matter of weeks she was stepping out with the dark haired guy she had hit it off with that night. He was a boring, strait laced guy, or at least that’s what Joe had gathered from Bill. The guys dullness was obvious. From what Joe witnessed, there was no fire between them. Not that it was his place to care, he reminded himself. Every time Joe saw them together he avoided her gaze. He knew he would see that look that was begging him to step in, to step up and interrupt this course she was on. But, as long as she was with this guy Joe had an excuse not to love her.

#hbo war #band of brothers #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x oc #fanfiction #BoB #hbo band of brothers #angst #heartbreak

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yawnjunie · 3 years

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so you’re the artsy type, huh ❦ cbg (1)

Genre: fluff, university au, crack (get ready for a bad take on comedy)

Pairing: broke artist!reader x art sponsor!beomgyu

Word count: 7k

Summary: After spending way too much time chasing after an impossible dream, you weren’t too sure you wanted to continue with your lifelong passion— art. One eventful day at the museum steered you onto a road full of twists and turns, and you unexpectedly found yourself wading deeper into murky water with your new employer.

A/N: a huge thank you to @noiaeu and @halohyuka for being my beta readers! anyways here is a long overdue fic that was a 20k+ word monstrosity but is now a series. happy reading!

— blu and struz

You tapped your feet absentmindedly against the grimy tiles of the cheap burger chain as you waited. The atmosphere that usually felt bustling and welcoming now felt stuffy as your stomach churned each passing second. The waitress walked past your seat as she served the customers behind you, the fragrant aroma of the burgers on her tray prompting a vicious growl from your stomach. Sighing, you checked the time on your phone: 8:52pm. Scrolling past the inactive conversations with your “friends” (you didn’t really know what to call them because you tried to ask them out and got rejected; you’d kept those conversations anyway because you were too attached to them), you sent a quick message to a number you wish you didn’t need to text today. Without a second thought, you picked up your belongings and left the small burger shop.

Thank goodness, you knew just the perfect place to drown your sorrows in.

You called for the nearest taxi to the small food shop by the name of Mrs. Lee’s Mandu House.

“What happened this time?” A stout lady with an apron asked, peeking her head out of the kitchen, setting down a large bowl of dumplings in front of you. She made her way to the condiments shelf. “Kimchi?”

“Yes, please. I got stood up again.” You grumbled, stuffing a large dumpling into your mouth ravenously. Then, speaking through mouthfuls of food, you continued. “Maybe I should just stop trying altogether. Change my major to agricultural studies and move to the countryside while I’m at it.”

Food had never tasted so good! The savory filling of the dumplings literally melted in your mouth, and soon the blaring sound of the old AC and the sound of the kdrama from the TV had just blended into the background. It was nice not having to listen to anything.

“Aw, don’t say that.” The woman replied as she set down a pot of kimchi and a plate of kimbap on your table. The friendly ahjumma took her seat across from you and set down a bag of melon seeds. “Trust me, it’s going to be hard. You’re just in your first year of college! You’ll get there someday.” Then, she continued on to tell you about other people she knew who had it harder than you, but all that faded into the background noise, along with the AC and the TV. That sentence was the only thing you heard, and although there weren’t any lemons in the soup, everything that you ate suddenly started tasting sour. Sometimes, even the best food cannot drown out the bitterest words.

You’ll get there someday.

Foomp. You flopped onto your bed with a small grunt as your back met the soft mattress. Throwing off your glasses to the side, you massaged your eyeballs and then looked at the ceiling. It was grey. The same grey that you saw before going to sleep at night, the very same grey that greeted you when you awoke in the morning to another unexciting day. The more you stared at it, the more the popcorn ceiling looked just like a grey mass with a few monotone specks here and there.

You were always told to look to the future and stop dwelling on the past. And that was a long shot, given that all you saw in front of you was a blurry ceiling.

What is this feeling? You let yourself sink a little deeper into your mattress, lazily shifting your gaze to the left, where you saw your huge Gabriel Garcia Marquez poster taped to the wall. Solitude. Looking back, you supposed that was how you’d been living your life thus far.

Doing jobs here and there, never really achieving anything big.

Single as hell.

It was days like this that made you feel not quite sad, but just really demotivated. A reminiscent smile flickered on your face as you turned your head to stare at the wall, unto which the light that peeked through the overcast sky cast a faint shadow. Words like “lonely” and “outcast” didn’t mean a thing to you. The fact of the matter was, you didn’t have anyone, and the universe sure didn’t put an effort to sugarcoat that fact.

Rolling lazily to the edge of the bed, you finally sat yourself up. You walked over to your desk, pulled out the wooden chair, and turned on the lamp. Then, you took a moment to tie up your hair before looking down at what was lying under the spotlight of the lamp.

Amidst the blizzard of eraser shavings and the familiar scent of freshly shaved wood stood the lead outline of a girl. Shoulder-length hair up in a high ponytail, a soft, rounded nose, chapped lips, and blank, unsuspecting eyes with dark circles hanging below them. Looks like she’s never seen a day of joy in her life. Looking into the mirror standing to the left on your desk, a very tired girl with a dark face stared right back. Dusting off the eraser shavings into the trash bin next to the desk, you commended yourself for the superb self-portrait.

At the insistence of the tightness in your right wrist and the crick in your neck, you set the pencil down and extended your arms to stretch your back. When your eyes fell upon the drawing once more, a wave of disappointment washed you back onto the shore of frustration. Yet another addition to the ever-growing pile of wasted white paper. A part of you argued that art was not a waste, which was true enough. Art made by you, however, was a different story.

What happened to me? All that time, effort, and energy never really amounted to much. After all, you’d only seen the world in black and white. It was as if someone took a giant paint tube and squirted an awful lot of grey paint everywhere.

After all, who’d ever heard of an artist who couldn’t tell orange from blue?

–––

Even the song playing in the background mocked you with every word.

♪ I see trees of green,

red roses too ♪

♪ I see them bloom,

for me and you ♪

♪ and I think to myself

what a wonderful world ♪

You glanced around tiredly as you saw your classmate’s boyfriend carry a stack of canvases for them. For someone who, one: saw the world in grey, and two: had never gone on a date, the world was anything but wonderful. You felt your eyelids drooping despite the hard, wooden stool jutting into your buttcheeks. Drowsily, you turned your gaze to your art pieces. Noticing the other students coming in to set up their pieces, you straightened up your back and set your bag down on the stool. You took a deep breath and swung your arms nervously in an attempt to garner a sense of purpose and hope. You got this! You whispered encouraging phrases to yourself under your breath, smiling at the students who bothered to greet you first.

Today was your first time participating in a student exhibition. Although it was quite unconventional for first year students to be showcasing their work in the advanced exhibition, your teacher had been nice enough to make a spot for you. Well, it was more like you practically begging her to consider you, because of your current family situation. You terribly did not want to sound like that broke college student™, but sometimes, a little bit of courage to fight against the stone cold reality was useful. And of course, Ms. Kim, being the benevolent soul she was, granted you special rights to participate.

This year, the exhibition was being held in the empty room at the Museum of Modern Art. Attendance of the students was optional, but a good handful of them came, hoping to get a professional review, or even a sponsor for their art. The moment you walked in, you held your breath—the entire room was empty, all six surfaces painted white. It was the brightest room you’d ever been in, yet the temperature seemed to drop 100 degrees.

It’s fine. This time, things will be different, you told yourself in an attempt to shake off the dread that settled in the pit of your stomach. Fifth time’s the charm, after all.

It may have been your first time participating in a college exhibition, but you’d participated in countless art competitions as a kid. You were like a wildfire, and there was no award for a competition you entered that you didn’t win. Now, it felt like you were back to base one. After all, who has that easy of a life? Those days of your easy childhood life were long gone.

You tried not to think much as you sat uncomfortably next to your paintings. For the first hour or so, you made a point to look each passing person in the eye, a wide smile plastered on your face. The second hour, the corners of your mouth started to twitch beyond your control. By the third hour, you found yourself staring at people’s shoes more often than their faces. As the minutes ticked by, you kept your eyes trained intently on the floor, mouth pressed firmly closed. Glancing around the room, you tried to take your mind off of your worries. But you couldn’t help but be envious of your classmates, who were getting noticed by the professional guests.

That’s okay, there’s always next time. Guess today just wasn’t my day.

It was beginning to feel like no day was your day. A warm sensation pricked at the corners of your eyes when a voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Ma’am, excuse me.” A woman in a worn out blue outfit approached your stand.

Being as desperate as you were, you hastily wiped away your tears from all the yawning and slapped a smile on your face, mustering up the peppiest voice you could manage. “Hey! How can I help you? As you can see, I work exclusively in grayscale, and I mostly do portrai–” “Miss–” the lady interrupted, “it’s closing time. Could you please pack your things?”

Upon processing the sight of the tattered mop in her hand, realization hit you like a truck, and not just any ordinary truck— it was a Belaz 75710 filled with 496 tons of rocks and sharp glass. That was a fun fact you stumbled upon while scrolling on Instagram; the fact that you somehow retained this useless information made you silently curse yourself. Your smile was frozen in place as you gave a series of curt nods. “Oh. Okay, I’ll start packing.”

The kind woman nodded back and started to walk away, but stopped and turned just a few steps away. “Don’t feel too down. Sometimes, life just doesn’t go the way you want it to. It’ll get better, trust me.”

“Yeah.” You replied coldly, not bothering to mask your sadness. Attempting to muster a small smile in gratitude for her kind words, you gave her a thumbs up before she left the room. It kind of hurt, getting pity from the janitor. But in a way, you felt a little comforted. At least you knew you weren’t the only person struggling. Robotically, you placed the canvases onto your utility cart one by one, then started folding up the easels. When the janitor’s footsteps had faded away, the only thing disrupting the silence was the rain.

Plip. Plop. With the accompaniment of the beating of the raindrops on the rooftop that rang in your ear like a dull symphony, it only seemed natural for your tears to fall. And this time, there was nobody to interfere with your sob session.

And on that afternoon, in the empty art hall, you cried your heart out. There was only one question that gnawed at the back of your mind relentlessly, like a famished dog on a bone twice its size. Should I just give up on art? The thought of it just made you cry even harder. Art was your everything.

From the moment you’d grasped the thin body of the paintbrush on your doljabi, you’d fallen in love with art. Throughout your childhood, you’d spent your days drawing. From drawing on plain computer paper to painting entire murals on your bedroom walls - you did it all. Everyone was sure you’d become an artist when you grew up. You’d even kept a money jar by your bed, which you’d used to store money for new art supplies and eventually, art school. You were happy. You had a good eye for color.

Thunder crashed outside as that memory resurfaced in your mind. Back then, you drew like there was no tomorrow when you could see colors. Until the world became dark when your colors, your precious colors were taken away. And the world remained dark ever since. They all pitied you, sending a sigh your way in condolence for your loss. You didn’t need or want their pity, of course. All you’d ever wanted was an answer, a reason to why they left your eyes.

You wanted to blame it on something, but what could you do? Every night you prayed, praying desperately for your colors back. But every morning, the ceiling remained grey. So did the sky when you walked to work. Pushing your shabby cart with a loose wheel down the hallway full of eccentric art pieces, you didn’t even spare a glance at them. Well, other than to avoid being noticed by the few people who were still in the museum, to which you hid your swollen face in the opposite direction and choked back your sobs. Well, what can you do now, y/n? It’s not your first time participating in an exhibition anyway. There’s probably someone out there having it harder than you, so suck it up! Everything will be better once you get back home…

Just when you were nearing the entrance of the museum, you heard a different pair of footsteps from your own behind you.

“Hey.” You jumped out of your skin at the tap on your left shoulder. Caught by surprise, you found yourself stumbling backwards into your cart. You lost your footing and down crashed your rear end. By attempting to hold onto the cart handle for balance, your art pieces now seemed to fall in slow motion, the cart suspended in the air as your mouth hung open in horror. You reached out to grab it, but unfortunately, you were an aching 2 centimeters short of saving your artwork. The cart toppled on top of your canvases with a comical crack, wooden splinters flying everywhere. The empty utility cart squealed defeatedly as it toppled to its side, a loose wheel still spinning.

You felt your head spin even faster, as you grew increasingly frustrated by your inability to comprehend what had just happened. Holy shit.

Strewn across the floor, battered and broken, lay hours upon hours of your time, your hard-earned money, along with the last strains of your hope of becoming an artist. F*ck!

Eyes wide and mouth agape, you turned to face the perpetrator of the tragedy.

This is the part where he apologizes and promises to make it up to me, then gives me his contact info and we go on a date and he falls for me and we live happily ever after. Or so you hoped, you thought. The thought was so ridiculous that you could have burst out into laughter if it hadn’t been for the fact that the fruit of your blood, sweat, and tears was now a bunch of broken wood and torn cotton on the floor. F you and your last brain cell, y/n. Get yourself together and snap out of it. You were convinced that you were so sleep deprived from your K-drama binging session this morning at 4am that you’d convinced yourself that you were living the next episode.

Chances were low that the two of you would get together and live happily ever from an offense like this, but even so, he would have to compensate for the damages somehow. Now that you came back to reality, you realized that you couldn’t even make out what the guy in front of you looked like. “Okay, but what if he’s like, your next patron or something.” You don’t know if you muttered that out loud, but your odd behavior was really annoying you today. Shut up, it's not like he's Song Kang! Stop it! Nevertheless, you bet on the Balenciaga slides that he was wearing that he would pull out a business card the next moment.

You stared into the boy’s eyes expectantly and he met your gaze. You felt your pulse quicken as he opened his mouth to speak, eagerly awaiting your compensation. Hello hello, my next patron. This is the moment that marks my upgrade to a better life.

“I am so, so sorry about this.”

“You should be.”

As he spoke, the boy pulled his cap lower and threw on his hood. “Not just about me breaking your paintings, but also this.” Dammit, what have I gotten myself into?

And then he bolted.

🏃 💨

“Wha– hey! Where do you think you’re going?!”

He slammed his body against the glass door and ran into the rain while you followed in close pursuit. However, after a few wobbly steps, it occurred to you that you weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion, so you took off your heels and continued the hunt barefoot.

Still, even under normal circumstances, you weren’t much of a track star. Wearing a blazer with suit pants and no shoes wasn’t helping your chances either, and the weather didn’t seem to plan on making things any easier.

The two of you ran through the heavy rain like cat and mouse. Clenching your teeth and your fists, you chased after the boy. He ran about two blocks before you caught up to him. As your calves grew sore, you considered hurling one of your heels at him.

The boy slowed down for a couple of seconds, looking around frantically. Mr. Kim.....! I told you to wait for me out here—!

Heaving a sigh, he turned around and began to run in another direction. And although he'd hate to admit it, today was one of the days where he had no choice but to admit that his choice of footwear today was a fatal flaw.

Somehow, despite the odds against you, you weren’t the one who ate the pavement. The boy tripped over the curb and slammed into the sidewalk, bellyflopping straight into a gargantuan puddle. Those Balenciagas did not help him run through the rain very well. You laughed in triumph and squatted next to his almost-lifeless body.

“Gotchu now, you jer–”

Boom! The world went white for a second, illuminated by the blinding clap of lightning. In an instant, the downpour increased tenfold, the raindrops now feeling like bullets against your skin.

“Okay, maybe this isn’t the best place to have a conversation.”

–––

The two of you trudged through the rain—or, more accurately— you dragged the boy through the rain, your grip on his hoodie sleeve iron-tight. When you finally reached your car, you opened the passenger door and he went in obediently. From an outsider’s point of view, you might’ve been mistaken as an undercover cop. In fact, you were sure feeling like one as you apprehended the criminal.

You went around to the back and opened up the trunk, where after rifling through months' worth of empty bottles, fabric bags for shopping, and a variety of other car junk, you finally found your stash of somewhat clean clothes. After careful consideration, you chucked a worn hoodie and the swimming shorts you’d worn to the beach last year over the seat. Just in case, you also tossed your first-aid kit over. You threw your heels in and swapped them for a pair of nylon flip flops before slamming the trunk closed.

You went back to the passenger’s side and opened the door. Taking in the figure of the drenched and bleeding boy, you kind of felt sorry for him. Which was stupid, considering he had just wrecked your life’s work and made a run for it. You tilted your head back and sighed, trying to sort your thoughts out.

With all of your best art pieces now reduced to splinters, it was a cold, hard fact that you weren’t going to get a sponsor. Besides, even before they’d been smashed into smithereens, nobody had been willing to give you a chance. The probability of you finding a sponsorship was like the graph of the height of a ball thrown from a cliff at sea level, or the number √-1. It was not just in the negatives, but it was also imaginary.

Taking a sharp inhale, you talked as quickly as you could. “Listen. I’m going to go get what’s left of my art from the gallery. Just change your clothes and patch yourself up, then you can leave.” You paused to dig out a few crumpled dollars from your wallet, which you promptly threw at him.

“Here, take this to get a taxi. I don’t know how far you live, but that’s all I have. Don’t get me wrong– I still think you’re a massive schmuck. And there’s nothing you can do to fix the damage you’ve caused.” Despite your best effort to remain composed, your voice cracked a little at the end. You stopped talking before you were to break out into tears again.

Without waiting to hear what the douchebag had to say, you slammed the door closed and strode through the rain back to the gallery, where your pieces still lay broken on the ground where you’d left them. A part of you was hoping that maybe, by some magic or miracle, the whole thing had been a dream, and nothing really happened.

But reality was as cold as stone, and you were powerless to change it. So, as you always did when confronted with the unchangeable, you picked yourself up and carried on, struggling against the current.

By the time you wheeled the broken canvases back to your car, the boy was long gone, all traces of his presence vanished except for the dampness of the left side passenger seat. You buckled on your seatbelt and tuned into your favorite radio station, then sped off into the summer storm. The storm, your artwork, it was all so out of the blue– well, in your case, grey.

The situation on the freeway was like a stuffy nose: irritated and congested. In fact, it would’ve been faster to moonwalk down the road. To make matters even worse, instead of music, the radio station was streaming ad after ad. Is this even legal? Exasperatedly, you tuned into a different station, then another one, but to no avail; all of them were on ad break.

It was frustrating enough that the gallery was a complete flop, not to mention that your best art was demolished in a hit and run and that you were sitting soaking wet on a leather seat stuck in the middle of traffic. Now, even the radio had turned against you. You shut it off and sat in silence.

Thump. You sighed and leaned your head back against the seat, willing the migraine that was building up in your head to f*ck off. After craning your head to check the backseat one more time, to your vexation, you found that the asshat hadn’t even bothered to close the first aid kit.

Muttering obscenities under your breath, you reached for the kit, cracking your inflexible spine 4 times in the process. You rummaged through its contents, straightening them out, counting how many were left, and you were about to slam the lid closed when you saw the note.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

“Well, gee, that’s REAL helpful.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the ten numbers scrawled on the note. Your half a brain cell told you to quit being stupid and toss that note out the window.

The rest of your stupid self told you to call it. I mean, why not? You cursed yourself for how your brain worked– or rather, didn’t work– sometimes.

You licked your lips in brief contemplation before punching in the numbers in. The person on the other end picked up immediately.

“Hello, welcome to Papa John’s Pi–”

You hurled your phone into the backseats and ripped the note up, throwing the scraps into the air like confetti before continuing the wearisome ride down through the rain.

–––

It took an eternity, but you made it back to your apartment, where you promptly crashed onto the couch. As per usual, you spent the rest of your waking hours scrolling through baking videos, even though you had neither the ingredients nor the time to be making any of the confections. At around 8pm, exhausted from crying and the events of the day, you dozed off without having a bite of the frozen pizza that’d just finished baking in the oven.

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Your dreamless slumber was disturbed by the vibration of a string of text notifications and the glow that lit up the dark ceiling. Still half-asleep, you blindly felt around for your phone and attempted to read the message through bleary eyes.

It was from an unknown number.

Rubbing your eyes to clear out the nasty gunk, you sat up and read the message again, this time with clearer vision.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] Hello, sorry for ruining your paintings today. I will make it up to you.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] Thanks for bothering to call, let’s meet at this address to talk about your compensation. My parents can’t know that I did this so it would be great if you could keep this a secret :(

What the f*ck. You muttered under your breath, eyes half shut. Did I call anyone? In your half-asleep state, you didn’t bother to recall. For a second, you considered blocking the number. But just in case this was just one of your dumbass friends who changed their number, you decided to give that person a reply.

[You] hello? is this papa john’s?? i would like a cheese pizza

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] oh sorry the voicemail was a prank for someone else

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] i’m the guy from the art museum earlier, remember

[You] okay why do you have my number

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] because you called me

[You] right. okay, what do you want

[You] unless you want to pay me back for all those damages back there, no i am not interested in anything else sry i’m a very busy person you know

You hesitated a second before pressing the send button. You’d just sent a lie; in fact, you weren’t really that busy. Apart from your part time job at the boba shop, you were actually quite free most of the time. During the summer, at least. In fact, your screen time had gone up by 42%, your daily average now totaling to a whopping 12 hours. After a minute or so of silence, you threw your head back onto your pillow and let out a loud sigh of relief. Peace at last! It also made you quite happy that the person who texted you was in the least, not some weird scammer.

Ping! You celebrated too soon. Reaching for your phone groggily, you read the new message.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] okay then i was going to ask if you were free tomorrow

Am I being asked out? You squinted at your bright phone screen in the dark. You might have been nearsighted, but you weren’t illiterate in pick-up lines.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] i want to return the clothes you lent me

[You] it’s fine, you can keep that

Oh good, he was talking about the clothes, not anything else. Your millisecond of relief ended quickly when he sent another message.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] oh also it would be great if we could meet up anyway? i want to talk to you about something that i had been meaning to say for a while

Oh, god. I knew it wasn’t just about the clothes. Lonely as you were, you would shoot yourself in the foot if you got into any relationship without landing a stable job or having any money. Scoffing amusedly, you stared at the screen as he continued to type. But dating someone like this? Never in a million years. Turning over to your other side, you thought about the many ways you could reject him.

[You] no sorry :(

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] we should set a date at the cannoli restaurant to talk about your compensation costs. i’m extremely sorry for ruining your beautiful artwork, and i know that my apologies will do nothing to change your current situation. since this is my fault, i’m willing to pay any amount you request (and i’ll pay to the best of my capabilities)... i’m assuming $50,000 would be enough to cover the costs for most of the damage? if monetary compensation doesn’t work for you, we can discuss other forms of compensation as well.

[You] i know it may not seem like it but i’m actually caught up in too much work to have time for dating anyone. you see, it’s just that i have lots of work on the side so i can’t really spare time at the moment. please don’t take this personally haha i’m sure you’ll find someone,,, like i don’t know how to say this but yeah…..you don’t wanna be w someone like me, it’s me not you

Huh? Just as you sent your message, another message popped up before yours. And if your life had a background narration, this very moment would have been “and in that moment he knew. He fvcked up.”

Fml.

With just one single message, you perhaps have ruined the only god-given opportunity to turn your life around ever. He’d just offered you money to cover the costs of your broken paintings... now that you thought about it, he could even be your patron! You couldn’t even get a patron even if you went out of your way to look for one on Craigslist, pestered Ms. Kim for any news from the Art Teacher’s Association, or even begged random people on the street in hopes one out of the million people would be willing to promote your art. Now, someone was asking to compensate you with tons of money, and you’d just rejected him in the most embarrassing way possible.

[You] oh shoot

[You] i mean wrong chat, uh can you please stay on hold, i will get back to your compensation offer, yeah i will see you at the restaurant sometime thanks

XXX-XXX-XXXX is typing…

You did not bother to see what he had to say. Hurtling your phone onto your carpet, you let out a guttural scream of “I AM SUCH A DUMB@$$$” before pulling the strings on your hoodie tightly. And for the second time that day, you cried.

———

Leaving behind the upsetting events from a couple of days ago, you listlessly shuffled through the entrance. It was Saturday morning, and that meant groceries. The local Asian market was one of your favorite places to be; breathing in the familiar blend of spices that hung in the air was a cathartic feeling. The corners of your lips were turned slightly upwards as you bent to grab a basket.

First stop was the meat section, where the bugged-out eyes of dead fish followed you as you walked down the aisle. Cooking raw animal flesh wasn't really your thing, so you simply picked up a package of pre-cooked chicken and went on your way.

Next came the produce section where you felt up all the tomatoes, only bagging the ones that felt the right amount of firm and soft. You also added a pack of bok choy and mushrooms, perfect for cooking up a lazy soup.

Now that you were nearing the end of your expedition, it was time to head into the best part of the store: the snack aisle. Sometimes, when you were feeling more down than usual, you would blow the whole sum of your weekly grocery savings on off-brand shrimp chips and chocolate banana Pocky. One by one, you were doing all the things your mom had told you not to do when you moved out, from coating the entirety of your insides with nothing but sodium and sugar to shifting your sleep schedule by 15 hours.

What was next, the-no-dating-boys-until-you’ve-gotten-your-Master’s-and-have-a-7-figure-job rule? You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Even if your stomach was totally trashed and your sleep schedule was nonexistent, you would never let yourself fall that far.

As you stepped foot into the chips aisle, you beheld the holy grail. From Hello Panda to rice crackers, wasabi peas to Yan Yan sticks complete with a chocolate dip, cream wafers to dried seaweed, you were in a sea of temptation. Being that broke college student™, you just gulped and kept walking. I can just feast on these goodies with my eyes.

Your initial plan had been to just walk through the aisles to admire and drool over snacks you knew you couldn’t afford, but you were stopped in your tracks when you reached the instant noodles section.

At the end of the aisle, the shelf was bare except for a single lone pack. Even from a distance, you recognized it, all right; there was no mistaking the outline of your favorite instant ramen brand. 신라면. More like 神라면 (it’s more than just spicy noodles— it’s noodles made by the gods) you thought, eyes already tightly clutching at the packaging from 5 feet away.

From many a sleepless night of binge-watching third-rate rom-com dramas (though you cringed thinking back on it, this was an integral phase of your dark “past”), you knew where this was going–– but you weren’t going to sit around and let yourself fall into some overused trope. You gripped your basket tight as you swiftly made your way over to the shelf, just about setting a world record for speedwalking with a basket.

Sure enough, if you had been one second slower, you would’ve been ensnared in a sticky situation. Just as you were snatching up your prey like the pterodactyl you were, another figure was rounding the corner. Another broke college student™, it seemed, judging by the state of their hoodie, which was pulled over their messy hair, the strings tied in a bow to make sure the hood wouldn’t fall. Even though their face was concealed by their hood, you could see their reaction as they connected the dots from the bare shelf to the ramen pack in your hand.

“Hey–” they started, reaching towards you, but you promptly dropped the pack into your basket, spun on your heel, and noped out of the aisle before you could be confronted. You felt sorry because you could sympathize with their situation, but you were in no place to be kind to others. Not in this dog-eat-dog world. To survive, you’d have to stay on top of the food chain.

You were about to fall in line when you remembered that you were all out of Sriracha sauce. You could deal with giving up your Pocky and shrimp chips as long as you had your favorite condiment in stock; no matter how down you were, scrambled eggs with a heaping squirt of Sriracha always took you up to Cloud Nine. If you were going to leave something behind, it would never be the Sriracha sauce.

After grabbing a bottle from the condiment aisle, you scanned the checkout desks for the shortest line. Luckily, a new checkout desk had just opened on the left, so you scampered over and placed your basket onto the counter. The clerk was a kind-looking old woman, but was surprisingly agile for her age. As you waited for her to bag the large span of items that belonged to the grandpa in front of you, you opened up your phone to check your budget. You eyed the message app with two unread messages temptingly before going into your bank app. This was a lucky trip~ thankfully ramen isn’t too expensive. Even if it wasn’t on my grocery list, a few cents won’t make too much a difference. I think I can spare enough to get a Pocky next time.

At long last, the grandpa shuffled away with his cart filled with some veggies, a thick stack of newspapers, and an unusually large stash of rice crackers. While the clerk scanned and bagged your items, you continued to fiddle with your phone until she cleared her throat.

“Would you like a single receipt, or two separate ones? Because there’s a divider between your items.”

“Excuse me?” “You and your boyfriend. By the way, you guys look really cute together, especially with your hoodies~ are you on a date?”

You spun around only to come face to face with the broke college kid from the ramen aisle. Well, that’s awkward. The cashier must have been blind or deaf (or both) because you didn’t even interact with that boy. You stole glances of the customer through your peripheral vision, trying to see what he looked like. Hmm, do I know him? He looked uncannily familiar. Just then, another realization dawned on you. A terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad one. Your expression quickly changed from one of confusion to one of pure shock.

Surprise, surprise. It was the douche from the art gallery. And he was wearing your old hoodie.

“I-I don’t know him.” Before he could open his mouth to say anything, you quickly looked away, feigning ignorance. Unfortunately for you, the old clerk had seen much in her day and your little ruse wasn’t going to slip past her that easily.

“From the flushed look on your face and the stammer in your voice, I’m pretty sure you do. And I’m sure he would agree, wouldn’t you, lover boy~?”

And… cue to the horrified look on lover boy’s face. The conflict that was playing out in his mind showed on his face; he knew that if he answered this wrong, he would be facing your wrath.

“Uh, well, the thing is…” He shot you a nervous glance, but your features were stone cold. At a total loss for what to say, the boy just trailed off and turned his eyes to his basket. Following his gaze, you looked over his items and immediately recoiled in disgust.

Not a single leafy green (grey) in sight, no meat, no rice, not even one of the food groups necessary to sustain life. Strawberry ice cream mochi, Taiyaki, strawberry Melona bars, Choco Pies, strawberry Hi-Chew, strawberry Chocorooms, strawberry Pocky–– it seemed that strawberry was a recurring theme among his groceries.

Even though the sheer amount of sugar made you gag, a pang of jealousy flashed across your face. That was the life you’d longed for ever since you finished high school: living off of nothing but sugar and carbs, looking like a bum and not giving a damn about it, just chilling.

Unfortunately, with the number of failures and setbacks that stained your past, a carefree life was something you could no longer afford.

“Yeah, okay, we’ve met,” you cut in, saving the boy from the tricky situation. Skeptic, the clerk stared into your unblinking eyes for what seemed to be a solid 15 seconds before shrugging and handing you your groceries. You snatched up your fabric bag and went on your way, walking fast. The color in your cheeks was probably the same as a tomato. Your least favorite fruit.

Why him, of all the places? Why, universe? Where did I go wrong? You were about to drop dead from embarrassment. As you closed your eyes, you could see your tombstone: “Rest in Peace y/n, died alone and patron-less.”

However, what you didn’t know was that your day was about to get worse. A whole lot worse. It all started when you felt a familiar tap on your left shoulder. I swear– You took a deep breath in and let it out slowly to compose yourself and answered without turning around.

“What in God’s good name do you want. And why are you wearing hobo clothes.” My clothes, you realized, a tiny bit weirded out.

“They’re comfy,” he pouted, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his newfound hoodie as if to show off. “Anyways, how come you didn’t check your phone earlier?

“Oh, uh,” you felt the pressure in your head rising as you recalled how you threw your phone down in embarrassment and cried. “Sorry, I was feeling kinda down because a certain someone sorta trashed my life’s work and my only chance of being successful in the industry, sooooo yeah. My bad.”

Sniff. You looked up, startled, only to find that the boy in front of you had tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. His mouth was clamped closed, but his bottom lip was quivering and his eyebrows were turned up, resembling a small child trying to keep himself from bursting into tears after falling and scraping his knee on the pavement. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Well shit. There were two ways you could go about this: one, let your superego do the talking like a good person and prevent the boy from having a total meltdown in the middle of the sidewalk. The second was letting your id run rampant, taking full advantage of his feelings of remorse and overall just being a jerk. Maybe you could be distant and lacking in empathy, but you weren’t an asshole because you wanted to be one.

“Listen, I’m sorry for calling you a schmuck. A schmuck would not have bothered to keep in contact and a schmuck would not be on the verge of tears out of guilt. ...I accept your apology.” You were going to say that what he did was unforgivable, but you decided no to say that. After a pang of guilt jabbed into you, you bit your lip and softened your tone.

“I know you feel bad, but you don’t need to cry; there’s no way to turn back time. So instead, let’s move forward and keep looking up. I’ll start.” Smiling slightly with a tilted head, you held out your hand. “Hi, my name is y/n. I know that we’ve technically met, but this is the first time we’ve met met. So, nice to meet you.”

He wiped his tears away with the butt of his palm and tried to return the smile, though his was more watery. “Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Beomgyu.” You noticed the corners of his lips curl upwards in a small smile as he took your hand, shaking it firmly.

There was a pause of awkward silence as you let go of his hand, wiping your sweaty palm on your sweatpants. Well that was the most awkward introduction I’ve ever had in my life. Clearing your throat, you spoke again to clear the tense atmosphere.

“About my compensation.”

#moacabin #txtarcadianet #txt fanfiction #txt scenarios #txt fluff #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu fanfiction #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu fluff #okay this is ... awkward #it's been an eternity since i first started writing this #i don't even think this is that good of a fic LOL it's just lots of crack #but anyways i hope you enjoy this story so far !!#it would be great if i could get some feedback about how it's going so far haha

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winzenni · 4 years

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didn't mean to make you cry (lee donghyuck)

Summary: when your design project partner’s joking criticism unintentionally makes you cry, how will he fix it? after all, you’re his crush...

Genre: hurt/comfort?, fluff

Pairing: donghyuck x artist!reader, high school!au

Word count: 1.5k

When you were paired up with the outgoing, edgy, purple-haired boy in class for your design assignment, you thought your final grade was done for. The purple-haired class clown, Lee Donghyuck, who wears leather jackets and looks like he plays with fire in his free time, but actually has a kind heart and warm aura.

You thought Donghyuck would ditch you in the very beginning, dumping the entire assignment onto you and opting to hit up the local night market with his friends instead, but he had surprised you. Throughout the month, Donghyuck had stayed on task in classes and been very attentive to your vision and goals for the project. Together, you were assigned to create a design layout that would display students’ artwork and be printed in the school newspaper.

Though your peers in class all opted for a traditional newspaper design, with serif fonts and boxy modules, you wanted to break out of the norm and create a futuristic vibe, with circles and vivid motifs, to emanate a clean aura in your work. When you were paired with Donghyuck, you feared he would shut down your creative vision, but instead, he had been extremely supportive and helpful in the project, even offering insight to improve the layout and refine the modern look of the pages.

For fun, you had put some close-up photos of your old sketches and drawings in the background. You thought Donghyuck would have called you self-centered for putting your own personal works on the page, but he had proven you wrong by complimenting the design afterwards. Together, your smooth black pen lines and colored pencil textures created a personal, diary-like feeling to the design, while the minimalistic modules and white space kept the clean modern vibes.

His willingness to cooperate and kindness to you and your ideas had truly shocked you, and erased the bad boy/lazy rebel image you had thought of him. He seemed like someone you wanted to get closer with, maybe.

“Donghyuck and Y/N, time for your evaluation.” the teacher called you two up.

“Hm, this corner of the page is a little crowded. It’s hard on the eyes,” Ms. Kang says.

“It’s because y/n drew the picture there,” says Donghyuck. “It’s ugly, right?” He says it in a joking manner, and you know he doesn’t mean it like that, but the words stir up some insecurities you’ve suppressed for a long time.

Ms. Kang laughs along with him. “Donghyuck, don’t be mean. Her drawing looks fine…”

You know he was joking when he had called your drawing ugly, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe he truly meant it. People were always like that to you.

In elementary school, your parents had loved your art. Your scribbly golden retrievers, your painted landscapes, they had praised each one and hung them up on the refrigerator, and you were so proud to have a talent that they were proud of.

In eighth grade, your hyper realistic self-portrait earned you a ticket to New York to have your art displayed at a museum’s exhibit highlighting children’s artworks. You began to think this talent could take off and become a career, but your parents disagreed.

“Art doesn’t make money, y/n. Do you want to starve when you grow up?”

As you grew older, your art got better but your parents’ support decreased. Though you could draw a golden retriever 100 times better than before, your parents weren’t praising you.

“It’s ok, y/n. It looks kind of ugly.”

“That’s supposed to be you? It’s ugly-”

“Why did you draw me so ugly-”

Ugly was such a short word. But why did it hurt so much? Whenever you saw your parents’ faces, you just thought about your ugly, meaningless passion: art.

The bell rang.

“Ah, I barely noticed the time. We’ll finish grading your design next class.” says Ms. Kang.

“Cool, thanks seonsaengnim,” Donghyuck responds. “Y/n, what did you think? She really liked the-”

You stand up, grabbing your bag and leaving for the cafeteria. You couldn’t hear Donghyuck’s words over your parents’ criticisms ringing in your head.

“Are you dumb? You’re NOT going to art school.” “No more art, y/n. It’s meaningless.” It had been a while since the word “ugly” had come up when talking about your art, your hobby, your talent, no -- your sole passion in life that gave you a purpose. You didn’t even notice your eyes watering up.

“Y/n, didn’t you hear me?” Donghyuck catches up beside you. “Ms. Kang said -- wait, are you crying?”

You’re taken aback, looking up to the face on your left. Concern flashes through his eyes as a sense of embarrassment pierces your chest. He thinks I cried because of a dumb joke he made, you think to yourself. He thinks I’m too sensitive and weak like that.

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, taking a u-turn to seek refuge in the bathroom.

At lunch, you plop your tray beside your friend Renjun, taking a seat.

“How was the project evaluation?” He asks.

“Renjun, you’re gonna laugh when I say this. I cried for no reason in front of Donghyuck,” you reveal.

“Why? What happened?” He asks worriedly.

You explain the purple-haired kid in your class, the design project, the thoughts that had rushed through your mind after Donghyuck had jokingly called your art ugly. Renjun, who you had first met in art class and hoped to become an art student himself, was one of few people who truly understood your insecurities about your future in art.

“He probably thinks I’m weird and too sensitive now,” you say.

“Maybe,” he says. Renjun was never one to lie, even if the truth hurt a little bit. “It’s okay though, you probably won’t see him ever again after this year.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, patting it comfortingly.

“You’re right,” you laugh, scooping up another spoonful of rice.

How can she be laughing so much after crying less than twenty minutes ago? Donghyuck asks himself from across the cafeteria. Did I do something wrong?

“Donghyuck, what’s on your mind?” pipes up Jeno. “What are you looking at?”

“Hm? Oh… Earlier in class, that girl over there cried after I said something but I’m not sure why.” Donghyuck answers.

Jeno raises his head to look over at the girl in question. “Oh! Y/n? She’s so nice though, how did you even make her cry?” “I don’t know! That’s what I want to know!” Donghyuck defends himself. “Who’s sitting next to her though? She was just crying last class, why is she laughing already?”

“Oh, that’s Renjun. Why don’t you just ask him? He seemed pretty chill in math class last year,” Jeno suggests.

When Donghyuck sees Renjun turn into the boys’ bathroom before class, he follows.

“Renjun!” he calls out.

Renjun turns around to see the owner of the unfamiliar voice.

“Why did y/n cry? Did I do something wrong?”

Tilting his head to process the sudden interrogation, Renjun notices Donghyuck’s bright purple hair and makes the connection.

“Oh, you’re Donghyuck,” he remarks.

“Please, Renjun, tell me if I did something wrong. I need to know.”

“Why do you care so much?” Renjun asks. “Don’t worry about it, she’s not mad at you.”

“No, please. Please tell me. I-” Donghyuck starts. How can he admit his crush on you to a stranger right now? He can’t miss his chance. “I-I like y/n. I need to know if I did something wrong. I want to fix it. Please, Renjun.”

Donghyuck had loved your drawings. He had loved your designs too. And loved you too. He loved how concentrated you focused when designing the layout, how your fingers gracefully pushed hair behind your ears when it fell in your face. He loved how your passion and dedication shined through in everything you did, whether it was your voice in a presentation, or the speed and concentration of your fingers on a keyboard. You were his crush, but also his role model. He couldn’t live with himself if he had made you cry.

Renjun explained your situation, your art, your parents, your self-doubt to Donghyuck. “Shoot your shot, Donghyuck. I think maybe y/n likes you too,” he said before pushing the door open and leaving quickly to hide his growing smile.

Alone in the bathroom, Donghyuck breathes a sigh of relief.

The next day in class, Donghyuck slides his backpack on the desk beside you, instead of his usual seat in the back.

You look up, unsure how to face him. Should you explain why you cried? Or pretend like it didn’t happen?

He slips a folded pink piece of paper onto your desk, nodding at you to open it.

You unfold the paper to see a doodle of a girl and boy, painting the sky together under some clouds. Amongst the clouds read “Your art is amazing. And you are too.” in a neat script. On the bottom of the paper: “Wanna come with me to the night market on Saturday?”

You look up at Donghyuck, searching his eyes to see if this is some pitiful joke or attempt to amend. Instead, you just see a glazed, lovestruck gaze in his eyes.

“I promise I won’t make you cry this time,” he says.

#haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #nct #nct fic #nct scenarios #haechan #lee donghyuck #nct dream #nct 127 #fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct 127 fluff #haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff

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creativeskullcreations · 3 years

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Buddy’s Problem part 1

Everyone's escaped from Snaktooth, but what happened directly after? And how did Buddy Copperbottom, now ex journalist, help Filbo become mayor? Find out in this short, three-part fic, from the author that brought you Outside!

Hey everybody, I know I'm supposed to on a writing hiatus right now but I felt inspired! Also not sure when the next part's gonna come out, but I'll have it up as soon as it's done, don't worry!

Buddy led Filbo up the stairs, the other Grumpus sticking close as the journalist fished the key out of his bag. He unlocked the door and let it swing open. He felt like maybe he should say something, like "Welcome to my home!". But he was tired, and honestly couldn't care less about it. Instead he stepped aside to let the light blue one in, and then closed and locked the door behind him.

"Make yourself at home." He muttered in lieu of anything else, and made his way to the kitchen. He hoped that maybe something had survived his month long excursion. Anything that wasn't ketchup or chocolate sauce. He opened the fridge, and then immediately shut it at the smell. 'That's gonna need cleaned out soon. Ew.' He went for the pantry instead, and chose a can of Chef Beenopi ravioli. He dumped it into a large bowl and stuck it in the microwave, listening to Filbo looking around his living room/office.

"Wow, you've done a lot of articles. No wonder Liz invited you." Ah, he was looking at the Wall of Paper, where Buddy had put up every article he'd ever gotten published. There weren't really a lot, and most of them had been pulled for being stupid or wrong. But, he had gotten them published in the first place, so onto the wall they went.

"Yep." Buddy replied as the microwave beeped. He pulled the hot bowl out and poured about half into another one. He then grabbed out a couple of forks and shoved a pile of stuff out of the two chairs set at the table. He then sat down himself to eat. "There's food in here if you want it. Real food."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks!" Filbo hurried into the kitchen and sat down in the other chair. Buddy couldn't stop the smirk of amusement when the other rushed and burned himself eating the ravioli. He sobered up quickly though, reminding himself that Filbo hadn't had any truly hot food for quite awhile. Months, even, depending on when the expedition had landed and they had started eating Bugsnax.

Buddy cleared his throat, letting his fork rest in the bowl. "Sorry about the mess." He finally said, feeling self conscious when Filbo looked up at him. "I don't... usually get visitors, and I certainly wasn't expecting anyone right after I got back." He cleared his throat, looking down at the dusty floor. 'I wasn't expecting anyone ever.'

"Oh that's alright." Filbo waved him off. "I'm just glad you were able to let me stay here."

"Not a problem." Buddy got up, leaving his ravioli barely eaten. "Let me go set up the, ah, guest room for ya."

He entered the backroom, and as soon as the door was closed he began to panic. There was no spare room. Sure, there was a bed and shelf in here, it had come with the apartment, but the whole room was shoved full of boxes that you couldn't get to either of them. And there was no place else to put the boxes.

"... Maybe he won't notice if I put him in my bedroom. I don't sleep in there much anyways." He grinned, clapping his paws together. "Yeah, that could totally work!"

The door behind him opened, and Filbo peeked in. "Uh, hey, Buddy, is there anything I con do to help?"

"Nope!" Buddy shoved him out of the room, and slammed the door behind them. Instantly there was a crash from inside the room, and he inhaled sharply through his nose, fake smile plastered on. "The spare room is toast!" He informed his friend cheerfully. The light blue Grumpus just looked confused. Both flinched as another, smaller crash resounded from the spare room. "... The couch is a pullout though, and a pretty comfortable one too. Not the same as a bed, but it's just until the Snax wear off, right?"

"Uh, yeah sure." Now Filbo looked worried, and Buddy feared the situation would quickly spiral out of control. So he just grinned wider, putting as much false cheer into his voice as possible.

"Great! I'll, uh, I'll go get the sheets." He hurried quickly to his room, where he kept the spare bedding. Not that he had a lot of that, but he figured he had enough for Filbo to use.

With Filbo's help(apparently he had the same kind of couch at home), he managed to unfold the thing and get the sheets on. He'd even found a spare pillow for him to use. It wasn't a lot, but it was a functional bed, and would work for the few days he needed before heading back home.

... And then it'd be back to being alone for Buddy, drinking the nights away while desperately trying to find his story of a lifetime. He wondered if that was how Lizbert had felt, before she found out about Snaktooth. He almost wished he could ask her about it.

Speaking of, once Filbo had settled, Buddy pulled out all the interview tapes he'd collected. He laid them out on his bed, then grabbed a notebook and pencil to start drafting the article. Surely, surely this would take too long.

()()()()()()

Filbo wasn't sure what to think of Buddy's apartment. It was a mess, that was for sure, but the kind of mess made by someone who didn't care about cleaning. Or who was too drunk to clean. He'd noticed the cans scattered around. Some were piled up in small pyramids, but most were just tossed in the corners. None seemed broken, thankfully, he didn't want to worry about either of them stepping on broken glass.

Still, it didn't paint a very nice picture of what Buddy's life was like. And it made him wonder what might happen when he inevitably went home once the Bugsnax wore off. He'd have to give Buddy his phone number, and the numbers of the others too, just to be safe. Then he'd have more options for entertainment besides cheap beer.

Yes, it was a good plan Filbo thought as he settled in to go to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning to Buddy in the throes of a caffeine induced panic attack, rambling about how everyone was doomed to become Bugsnax, he figured he had his work cut out for him.

First things first, calm Buddy down and get some coffee for himself. Second, find out just what Buddy was talking about. Which turned out to be that no matter what angle he went with, more Grumpuses would go to Snaktooth Island and be assimilated.

Okay. Filbo could work with that.

It didn't take long to go through Buddy's notes while the orange Grumpus was asleep on the couch and find something they could do. The volcano was almost too obvious. It was in the midst of erupting when they left, and maybe they could exaggerate how bad it had been. Shouldn't be too hard to get in contact with the others and redo a few interviews. Buddy agreed, once he woke up again, and the two of them got started.

It took almost a week to get all the interviews done, and that was without interviewing everyone. Triffany, Floofty, and Snorpy were the ones they needed to "prove" the volcano had been a ticking time-bomb, and they were all happy to help. Wambus and Chandlo were given interviews about Liz, since they were there and to help fill out the article. Beffica appeared once she found out what they were doing, and demanded a redo of her own.

And, while they couldn't get their interviews, Filbo did call the others with Beffica's help to tell them the cover story. No Bugsnax, only a volcano. It had just been a con that Liz had done, in an attempt to get people for her settlement, before she got in over her head and fell into a chasm. Not a lot of people liked throwing her under the bus, Filbo included. But, it was that or let more people be assimilated by the Snax, and he refused to let that happen.

Put like that, even Gramble could get behind it, though he did so reluctantly. It still didn't feel right, but Filbo couldn't see another option, and neither could anyone else.

By the time the article was done, with new interview tapes and everything, the Snax Filbo had eaten had worn off and he looked just like he had before. The day he woke up looking completely normal, Buddy made the call to his boss to set a time to turn in the article.

Together they went up to Ms. Clumbernut's office, and handed off the article. She read it, praised Buddy for it, and then informed him that not only had he been fired since before he'd left for Snaktooth, but she'd done her best to get him declared dead.

"Might want to get that fixed." Was all she'd said as she left the room, taking the article with her. Buddy stared after her, with wide eyes.

"Well, that wasn't... ideal." Understatement of the century. Better change the subject. "So, I hear the elections are coming. I-I was thinking of running for Mayor." He grinned when Buddy turned back to him. "I could use a helping paw. How about it?"

For a second, Buddy hesitated. He didn't know anything about mayoral campaigns. But, then again, he had helped everyone else out, one way or another. What was one more? "Sounds good, Filbo!" He agreed with a smile, one that Filbo eagerly returned.

"Great!" He said, leading the way out of the office. "I have so many great ideas for this. I can't wait!"

Buddy couldn't wait either. He had no clue how he would be able to help, but he could figure it out later. For now, he was just happy to be useful again.

#bugsnax #the journalist #buddy copperbottom #filbo fiddlepie #buddy's problem

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anna-justice · 4 years

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Lost or Found - 15

Summary: As Jay, Hailey, Kim, Adam and Kevin start their junior year in the wake of a tragic summer, the past year of their lives comes back to haunt them. If you enjoyed Pretty Little Liars, this is for you! *UPSTEAD/BURZEK High School AU

...

15 - Glimmer ...

“Jay, this has to be perfect.”

Jay scoffed at his friend, who was attempting to paint massive letters on a blue sign. “This seems a bit extravagant Adam.”

Adam rolled his eyes, dropping his paint brush. He had asked Jay to come over a few hours prior to help him. It was Sunday, the day before spirit week and Adam was planning on asking his girlfriend to the homecoming dance the following weekend. The plan was simple: Jay (and Kevin, who ditched because he had an extra practice) were going to help Adam make all the shit he needed while Hailey kept her away from his house. Then after school Monday, Jay and Hailey were in charge of distracting Kim until he was ready. The only problem was, Adam’s ability to paint was about as good as his handwriting and the letters on the sign were equal to chicken scratch.

“I mean, you are already dating.” Jay continued.

“So,” Adam said, standing. “You are telling me that when you ask Hailey you won’t be holding a corny sign and a bouquet of flowers?” Jay began to speak but Adam kept talking. “Because I guarantee you, you will look like an idiot when every other girl has a cute story to tell.”

Jay shot his friend a dirty look, “Who said I was going to ask Hailey?”

“I hate you…”Adam muttered, groaning in defeat. He was sick of watching Jay dance around his feelings, especially since he knew Hailey felt the same way. He knew that he was the one that told him it was a bad idea in the first place, but he had retracted the statement a million times since then.

“Adam stop stressing, you know she will say yes.” Jay said, changing the subject.

Adam shrugged, “I know. That’s not the point. I just want her to feel special.”

Jay grinned, it was fun to watch his usually dickish best friend get all sentimental. “You know, sometimes you have these moments where I forget how much of a sarcastic little smartass you are.”

Adam glared at him. He then put on a fake smile and put his hand over his heart. “Really Jay? That means so much to me.”

Jay rolled his eyes and laughed as Adam got back to work. And even though Jay had dismissed him just a few moments earlier, he had planned to ask Hailey. He was right, it needed to be special, and Jay had the perfect idea.

…

Going back to school on Monday was a bit of an adjustment for Hailey. It was exactly the same as before, Jay picked her up (she really needed to start giving him gas money) and they met their friends in the parking lot and she went to her first block as normal. Except she had had heart surgery, and everyone knew that she was the girl that got trapped in a garage with a running car. That alone made people's stares a little more intense, but she also couldn’t seem to forget about the scar running up her chest.

It was crazy, she was wearing a t-shirt, no one could even see it. But she still felt like she had something she was hiding. It was all too familiar, she flashed back to just a year earlier when she began to hide the bruises caused by her father. There was something scary about her situation (other than the obvious facts), she moved to Chicago to escape the danger she was in, but somehow she had walked into something worse. And now she was a 16 year old with a pacemaker and a stalker, and she wasn’t a fan of either.

Hailey and Jay were walking to first block together, since they both had Criminal Justice. Hailey was still nursing the cup of coffee that Jay had brought her that morning, and she would admit that it made her morning much better. The two ways to her heart were coffee and pizza, and Jay had gotten pretty good at buying her both.

They settled into their seats (of course right next to each other) and Hailey pulled out her textbook. She noticed the sheepish look on Jay’s face and pushed it between them, it wasn’t the first time that he had forgotten his.

Jay smirked as he watched Hailey pull out her notebook and pencil pouch, the girl was a bit of a control freak when it came to her notes. Not that he minded, his looked like a five year old did them, so he’d be studying with hers anyway.

That’s how they spent the whole class: Hailey listening attentively and taking notes and Jay watching her listen and take notes. By the end he couldn’t remember one sentence their teacher said. He looked down at his own blank paper and chuckled, he hadn’t realized how out of touch he had really been.

“Mr. Halstead, did you find something more important to do than paying attention in my class?” Their teacher, Mr. Chavez asked as he stared him down.

Jay was about to respond with a “yes” but Hailey beat him to it, “He has a headache sir, I told him he could copy my notes later.” She explained.

“That’s very kind of you Ms. Upton. Great work as always.” He looked to Jay, his smile faltering. “See to it that you get those notes, don’t throw away Ms. Upton’s kindness.”

Jay nodded his head, stifling a laugh as he walked away. He gathered his things, preparing for the bell to ring and Hailey smirked beside him. “The next time you want to stare at me for an hour and a half, pick a class you aren’t close to failing.”

As soon as she finished her sentence, the bell rang and Hailey jumped up. “Hey! I’m not failing.” He called after her, but she just threw a grin over her shoulder at him and exited the room. Jay shook his head and grabbed his backpack, pulling the strap over his shoulder. That girl was going to be the death of him.

He made his way to his next class, Advanced Physics, which he unfortunately didn’t have with Hailey. He felt a little pathetic if he was being honest, but his happiness at the moment completely revolved around her. When she was around, the air felt a little lighter and he could breathe easier.

It was crazy to think that something so good came out of all of the shit they were dealing with, but it did. Hailey Anne Upton was his best friend, what more could he ask for?

…

Hailey sat in Psychology next to Severide, keeping her eyes locked on Kevin who turned around every five seconds to check on her. It was hard and she spent the whole class a little on edge, but they couldn’t risk Severide knowing that they were onto him in any way. Which meant Hailey had to spend 90 minutes every other day pretending to be his friend.

“How are you doing?” He asked, grabbing her attention.

Hailey looked back at him, startled. “I’m good, thanks.”

Severide nodded, glancing back down at her paper. “Uh, do you have number seven?”

“Yeah, it’s cognitive.” She said, looking at her own.

“Thanks.”

Hailey grimaced at the awkwardness of their conversation. “No problem.” She needed to get out of there. She raised her hand, “Can I use the restroom?” Her teacher nodded and she jumped up and grabbed the hall pass before high tailing it out of the room.

She let out a breath as she entered the bathroom, taking in her disheveled appearance. She hated how riled up Severide made her, but everytime she looked in the mirror she pictured the bruises that once covered her neck.

A toilet flushed behind her and she quickly got herself together. She gleaned in the mirror to see Nadia exit the stall, they made eye contact and quickly looked away. Hailey’s second uncomfortable interaction of the day. “Hailey right?” Nadia asked.

“Yeah.” Hailey said, she patted her legs nervously and gave her a small smile. “We haven’t officially met.”

Nadia gave her a cautious smile, “No we haven’t, but I don’t doubt you know everything there is to know about me.” Her tone turned darker at the end, her facade giving out.

“I’m not one to judge.” Hailey said, hoping to give her some solace.

“I’m not either.” Nadia turned towards the door, “Be careful with Jay, he’s not all he’s cracked up to be.”

“We’re just-” The door slammed shut, leaving Hailey alone to her thoughts, “Friends…” Not that she would be opposed to something more, but she wasn’t sure that was a secret. She ignored Nadia’s jab at Jay, if Hailey was her she would have said the exact same thing. Nadia didn’t know that Jay only ruined her because his mom’s life was at risk.

She grabbed the hall pass off the sink and made her way back to class, against her will. She was ready for the day to be over and she was barely halfway through.

…

After school, Hailey stood at her locker waiting for Jay, something else that had become normal. She was scrolling through instagram, not paying attention to anything going on around her. She was trying to keep her mind off the amount of AP Chem homework she had,but the tactic was proving to be unsuccessful.

“Hey,” a voice said, pulling her out of her trance. She looked up to find Kelly Severide standing over her, and she practically jumped out of her skin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hailey laughed nervously, removing herself from between him and the locker. “You’re good, what’s up?”

“Uh, nothing really I was just wondering if maybe you would want to go to homecoming with me?” He asked and Hailey stared at him blankly.

She figured she was going to be asked, but not like that and certainly not by him. She stood there in silence, trying to figure out what to say. She was 100% sure that she had watched this movie and the probability of her ending up dead at the end of it was high. Who else could say that the guy who choked them in the middle of their living room at one in the morning was also their homecoming date? Not many, probably because everyone who could check yes for that box was either murdered or missing.

She was about to respond when she felt a presence behind her. “Sorry man, she can’t go with you.”

Hailey sighed, Jay.

Severide gave Jay a bored look, sighing. “Why’s that?” Hailey looked up at him as if to ask: Yeah Jay, why not?

Jay smirked, glancing down at Hailey and the to Severide, “Because she’s going with me.”

...

@lissethsrojas @fuckyeahkillianemma @puckluck28 @chilly7188 @thebigapocalypsewolf @karihighman @upsteadheart @ruzek-halstead

#jay halstead #hailey upton #upstead #upstead au #kim burgess #adam ruzek #burzek #burzek au #kelly severide #chicago pd #chicago pd au #one chicago #chicago fire #high school au

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years

Text

Ocean and Alcohol Pt. 8 ✘JJ Maybank✘

part one! part two! part three! part four! part five! part six! part seven!

(gif not mine! all credit to aaronwarner!)

Word Count - 5869 Warnings - light swearing Synopsis - A high stress run in with the goons that you met in the marsh the day before leads you to Ms. Lana’s, where you’re confronted with the truth behind your feelings for JJ. A/N - Here’s the next part! If any or you wanted a more concise version, this story is also up on Archive of our Own under the same name! And, as always, thank you so much for your support! Stay safe, stay healthy, stay groovey

It was confirmed. There was never going to be a normal day hanging out with the Pogues.

JJ was describing how he and John B had witnessed someone getting attacked in their own house rather dramatically. Pope and Kie grilled him while John B paced back and forth. “You’re sure they were the guys that shot at us yesterday?” you asked, looking up from your hands. “Yes!” JJ said, letting a puff of smoke out of his mouth. “How do you know if you can’t describe them?” Pope yelled, exasperated. “I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time! I was under duress, okay?” JJ took a step back before taking another hit from his vape pen. “That’s alright,” you said, putting up a hand as Pope shook his head and crossed his arms. “But I can tell you,” JJ said, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down. “By the way Ms. Lana was screaming, these guys were serious hombres, man.” “Wait,” you said, scowling. “Ms. Lana? That’s whose house you were at?” “Yeah,” JJ said, running his hands through his hair. You stood quickly, picking your bag off the ground. “Where are you going?” Pope asked. “I’ve got to go see Ms. Lana. I can’t leave her there alone,” you said. You made for the door of the porch, but JJ grabbed your wrist. “You can’t go there,” he said, shaking his head. “Those guys could come back.” “I don’t have anything they want, do I? Ms. Lana is my friend, I can’t just-” “Why do they want the compass anyway?” Kie asked, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, it’s a piece of shit,” Pope said before looking back at John B, who was still pacing. “No offense dude, I know it’s in the family-” “The office,” John B said, looking at JJ. “What?” “My dad,” John B made for the front door. “My dad’s office.” You watched him walk inside, one hand still on the porch door. JJ tossed you a pleading look. You couldn’t leave him here when he wanted you to stay, but how could you leave Ms. Lana there knowing that she was hurting? “Dammit,” you murmured to yourself as you turned toward JJ and followed them inside the house. “He always kept the office locked in case anyone tried to steal his Royal Merchant research,” John B explained as he led you all through the house. “We used to laugh about it, but now that he’s gone I’ve just...I’ve kind of kept it has it was.” The door you stood in front of looked like every other door in the house; white, wooden, plain. The only difference was the lock that kept it shut. John B stared at the lock for a few moments, as if deciding whether or not it was worth it. “For when he gets back,” Kie said. She sent a very pointed look to JJ and Pope, who rolled their eyes. It was clear to you that there were some in this group who weren’t one hundred percent sure that Big John was coming back. For John B’s sake, you really really hoped he was going to. John B unlocked the door and pushed it open slowly. The room was an absolute mess. Papers, books, charts, and maps littered almost every surface, You weren’t sure how anyone was supposed to find anything of use in this room. It was a fire hazard. You also didn’t want to mention that a locked door wasn’t really much use when there were glass windows surrounding the place, so you kept it to yourself. “I’ve slept over here like 600 times,” Pope said aimlessly. “I’ve never seen this door opened.” Even though you couldn’t really understand the room, John B seemed to know right where he was going. As you wandered around, looking at the intricate drawings and pictures hanging on the wall, John B picked up a corkboard of pictures and scribblings. He set it on top of a large pile of papers, the others starting to crowd around it. You glanced out the window, a bad feeling settling in your stomach.

“Here, this is the original owner.” John B pointed at the first picture on a corkboard. A sailor. He went through each of the pictures, describing how they got the compass and what happened to them. “So, you have a death compass,” Pope said, a little nod of his head. ‘Great.” “It’s not a death compass!” John B protested. “It’s cursed,” JJ said, pressing his lips together. “You have to get rid of it.” John B turned away from the corkboard and sat down on the only clear surface in the room.

“Look, there’s this compartment in the back,” John B said, flipping the compass over. “Where soldiers could hide secret notes or whatever.”

You and Kie leaned over to see what was on the inside. John B twisted the back off, looking at the compass. “Look,” you said, pointing at the back. “There’s something etched in there.” “What is that?” Kie asked. “That wasn’t there before.” You could feel John B tense as he looked back at Kie. “This is my dad’s handwriting.” “How can you tell?” asked Pope as he neared, a hand on his hip. “He does that thing with his R’s. See?” John B showed Pope the carving. There was in fact a very strangely drawn R. “Can I see it?” JJ asked, leaning over you as you crouched on the ground. John B showed the compass to JJ. “Red...Rout-” “That’s an A,” you said, pointing at the little letter. “It says Redfield,” Kie said. “Right.” “What’s Redfield?” Kie asked. “Maybe...maybe it’s a clue,” John B offered, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe it’s a clue to where he’s hiding.” You felt yourself grimace. He wanted to believe so badly that his dad was still out there, but nine months was such a long time to be away. If his dad was still alive, why hadn’t he come back? “A clue? C’mon, that’s-” Pope looked over at Kie, who shook her head, giving him the same look as before. He cleared his throat. “If it’s a clue, it might be an anagram.” That was all John B needed to hear. “Yes, an anagram. Perfect.” He stood, shuffling around on the desk. “You’ll need some paper.”

Pope took the paper and pencil and started to write. “How do you concentrate with that thing crowing at you?” Pope asked. “JJ loves the rooster,” John B said. “I love the rooster,” Kie added. As Kie, Pope, and JJ leaned over the paper to try and solve the anagram, John B started to dig through some of the other things in the room. “How can I help?” You asked him. He shook his head, scribbling something on a piece of paper. You turned back to the anagram station, listening to them bicker. “You’re missing a letter,” Kie said, pointing at the paper. Pope smacked her hand away. “Guys,” John B said. “Somebody’s here.” You all moved toward the window slowly, peering outside. A black car had pulled up beside John B’s van, two large men stepping out. They were definitely the guys that shot at you yesterday, which meant they were the same people who had attacked Ms. Lana. Your blood began to boil at the sight of them. “Son of a bitch,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes as they approached the house. “This is suboptimal,” Pope said, voice so monotone you almost laughed despite the fact that there were very dangerous people approaching the house. “No,” JJ moaned, shaking his head and stepping back. “I told you. Why does it always-” “JJ, listen to me,” John B said, pushing his friend against the wall in hopes to quiet him down. “Where’s the gun?” “The gun? I, uh, I can’t-” “Now you don’t have the gun?” Kie cried. “The one time we need the gun?” You wrapped your arms around yourself, moving to stand as close to Pope as you could. You were hoping to absorb some of his strange calmness into yourself before your head blew off from stress. “It’s on the porch,” JJ said finally. “Go get it!” JJ ran from the room and you felt your heart sink. Kie stepped back toward you and you laced your fingers through hers, giving her hand a tight squeeze. Maybe if you couldn’t take any of Pope’s calmness, you and Kie could pass some kind of comfort to each other. JJ ran back into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Where’s the compass?” You heard one of the men yell from outside. You shuddered at the sound of his voice. “Where’s the gun?” John B asked. JJ looked around the room, eyes wide. “They’re on the front porch.” “Routledge!” A man yelled. “Where you at, boy?” “Shit!” “The window! Out the window.” JJ and Pope ran to the closest window, trying to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s painted shut!” JJ snapped as Pope continued to push it upward. “We can break it,” you offered. “Too loud,” Kie said, shaking her head. John B leaned up against the door, eyes closed, his breathing steady. How he managed to stay calm despite there being two men in his house who wanted to kill him was beyond you. You and Kie shuffled through the stuff on the desk for something sharp. “Routledge!” You felt something slice against your finger. Despite the sting of pain, you shoved papers away to reveal a letter opener. “Kie!” You tossed the letter opener to her and she ran to the window. You shoved your now bleeding finger against your jeans and made for the window. Pope ran to the door, standing beside John B. “Hurry,” JJ said as Kie started to cut away at the paint. “I’m going as fast as I can!” You ran your hands through your hair, wishing that you could somehow be of more help. The doorknob rattled. You stuck your knuckles against your mouth to keep from crying out. JJ took the letter opener from Kie and tore through the paint as the man outside the door started to kick it in. “You better not be in there!” he yelled from the outside. John B and Pope hurried away from the door, everyone now crowded by the window. You took Kie’s hand in yours again. There were tears in her eyes and she squeezed your hand repeatedly. When the gun went off, you jumped, but kept your mouth clamped shut. Your jaw began to ache from how hard you were clenching your jaw. JJ finally managed to pull the window open and then stepped out of the way. Kie jumped through the window, dragging you along with her. One by one, the boys hopped out after. “Where do we go?” Kie whispered. You pointed toward the chicken coop, where the rooster was still crowing happily. The two of you bolted toward the coop, the boys following not far behind. You helped Kie inside and waited for the boys to reach you, herding them in with your hand. You were the last inside, shutting the coop behind you. You scurried to the back, as far from the door as you could get. You sat between JJ and Kie, breathing heavily. You looked at JJ and he glanced down at you, slowly reaching out to take your hand. The rooster continued to crow as you sat, every cluck making your pulse spike. “Pope, shut it up,” JJ hissed, pointing at the chicken by Pope’s feet. “What am I supposed to do?” “Pet it or talk to it or something!” Kie said, tears running from her eyes. “I don’t know!” “He’s coming,” John B said, sitting back against the wall of the chicken coop. You sucked in a deep breath, closing your eyes. For all the times you thought about how you were going to die, going out in a chicken coop had never been on your list. Still, you would die surrounded by friends, so there was something beautiful in that. “You do something!” Pope said. You felt JJ’s hand pull away from yours as he reached out a grabbed the rooster. You tried to look away as he broke the rooster’s neck, shutting it up instantly. Kie let out a shuddering sob, but no one made another sound. “Ratter! What the hell are you going?” The other man yelled. “Let’s go!” You saw the man’s feet slowly retreat away from the coop, letting yourself breathe once. When the engine started, you heard Kie let out another sob. Even after the black truck pulled away, no one moved a muscle. It was a few minutes before John B pushed himself onto his hands and crawled out of the coop. Pope scurried out next and Kie after him. JJ sat there, holding the dead rooster in his hands. You crawled over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I loved this rooster,” he said, staring at the body. You slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I know,” you whispered, gently moving your hand onto the rooster’s body. “You did what you had to do.” A few tears stung your eyes, blurring your vision. You blinked and they fell, preferring to cry when JJ couldn’t see you. You kissed the top of his head and took the rooster out of his hands and setting it on the ground. “Come on,” you said gently. “Let’s go.” The two of you emerged from the coop. You noticed a shift in JJ as soon as you stepped out. The shock was gone instantly, replaced by a fake version of excitement. “That was crazy,” he said, grinning at John B who let out a deep sigh. Kie walked toward you and JJ, her tears starting to dry on her face. She put one arm around your neck and the other around JJ. “We almost died,” she breathed. “Nah, we woulda been fine,” JJ said, patting her on the head. You held her tight, knowing full well that she was right. “I really need to go,” you said, finally pulling away from her. “I need to see Ms. Lana.”

“What if those guys come back for her?” Pope asked. “Then she needs someone there to protect her,” you said, jogging back to the porch for your purse. “And it has to be you?” JJ asked, arms crossed. “If it’s not me then who?” JJ sighed, looking down at the leaves. “I’ll be there until the sun goes down,” you said to John B. “If there are any new updates, I’ll be at Ms. Lana’s or my house. Come get me.” John B nodded. “Thank you.” You put a hand on his arm and waved to the others. “Babe, wait!” JJ ran after you as you went to the car. “You’ll be safe?”

“Of course,” you told him, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Before you turned away again, JJ grabbed your wrist, pulling you back for a real kiss. You felt yourself smile against his lips. An ocean roared in your stomach, wanting nothing more than to stay here with him, to hold him until all the horrible thoughts were out of his head. But you couldn’t. “Hey, JJ!” Pope called from around the house. “Get your ass back over here!” JJ groaned and you felt the vibration against your lips. When you pulled away, he tried to take your lips back but you put a finger against his mouth. “Your friends are scheming, Maybank,” you said. “And I have to go.” With a roll of his eyes, JJ dropped his hands from your waist. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” You said, smiling at him. He smiled back, starting to back away slowly.

“Yeah. Stay safe out there, sailor,” he said, giving you a mock salute.

“You too, bucko.”

There was a smile on your face as you drove away. How in the world had the boy managed it? Just minutes ago, you were seconds away from dying and yet JJ could still make you smile. You weren’t sure whether your heart was pounding from the adrenaline or from the lingering feeling of JJ’s lips on yours.

Your smile didn’t leave your face until you pulled up to Ms. Lana’s house. You could hear her crying before you even made it to the front door. “Ms. Lana?” You called into the open window. “It’s El.” “El?” You heard her quiet voice coming from somewhere in the house. “El, darling, you shouldn’t be here.” “Can I come in, Ms. Lana?” “You shouldn’t.” You pushed the door open anyway. Your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight of her home. Glass was shattered on the floor, papers flitting in the wind of all the broken windows. The furniture was overturned and books were scattered about. You found her sitting on the floor of the bathroom, head in her hands. “Oh, Ms. Lana.” She startled at the sound of your voice, looking up. You saw the tears running down her face, her eyes puffy and red from crying. “You shouldn’t be here, child,” she said, shaking her head as her lower lip quivered.

“You’ve always been there for me.” You sat beside her, draping an arm over her shoulders. “Now I’m here for you.” She dropped her forehead to your shoulder and started to cry. She took your hand gently, squeezing it in the same way Kie had earlier. You could feel her tears rolling down your arm, soaking through your shirt. When her tears slowly started to subside, her sobbing returning to normal breathing, she sat up, wiping her cheeks. “Here.” You pushed yourself off the ground and put out for your hand for her to take. “Let’s pick some things up.” “It’s such a mess,” she said, looking around. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Well, I’m here now,” you said, smiling. “I’ll help you.” It was nearly impossible to figure out where to start. But once Ms. Lana was on her feet, she knew exactly what to do. She grabbed a broom and started to sweep up the glass and other broken things from the floor. You tried to right some of the furniture, moving them all to the same spot so she could sweep. You spent the next few hours trying to return Ms. Lana’s house to somewhat livable. Even though her house looked like a hurricane blew through it, there was no longer anything on the ground to step on and there were places to sit.

As you placed books back onto the shelf as best as you could, Ms. Lana made something to eat. The two of you ate outside, looking out at the water. Sweat beaded down your neck, the ocean glaring off the water and shining against your face.

“How did you know to come here?” Ms. Lana asked. You took your time swallowing as you tried to come up with a reason that wouldn’t immediately let her know that JJ was the boy she and you had told her about.

“I wanted to come see you after I heard about Scooter.”

Ms. Lana looked at her cup of tea.

“Those boys told you, didn’t they?” “I don’t know what-” “You don’t have to lie to me, honey. I told you, I’m not going to tell your daddy anything.” You breathed in a deep breath. “That boy you were telling me about. It was John B, wasn’t it?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“God, no. He’s just a friend.”

“JJ then.”

You grimaced and tried to play it off in the same way, but Ms. Lana already knew. You set your cup down and met her gaze. The game was up. You were caught. “Yes,” you said finally. “Yeah, it’s JJ.” Ms. Lana smiled as she took another drink from her cup. You always thought that if anyone found out about the two of you doing...whatever it was that you did...that they would be disappointed, try to steer you away. But Ms. Lana just smiled.

“Tell me about it,” she said.

“Ms. Lana-” “Indulge me, El. My house was broken into and I need something to take my mind off of it.”

You felt a smile grow on your face. You leaned your head back, letting out a deep sigh.

“It’s like….” You sighed again. “I don’t even know. It’s like being alive for the first time. Like I’ve been in this state of comatose for my entire life and all of the sudden I’m awake.” You couldn’t help your smile as you looked up at the sky.

“It feels like I’m caught in a storm but I’m not drowning. I’m not afraid. Not when I’m with him. Nothing can touch me when he’s there. No one can.” You looked down at your fingers.

“Do you love him?”

You snapped your head up to look at her. “I’ve only known him a little over a month, Ms. Lana.”

“I know,” she said. “I only knew Scooter three months before we were married. I never regretted my decision.” You shook your head, the elated feeling in your chest gone. You knew your answer, but you couldn’t say it. There was too much weight to it. It meant too much for you to just say out loud.

“You don’t have to know now,” Ms. Lana said, reaching across the table to take your hand. “But be careful. Don’t get that pretty heart of yours broke and for the love of God don’t break his.” You shook your head quickly, unable to form the words you wanted to say.

“There’s more to do inside,” you finally decided on. “We should get back to work.” Without waiting for her to respond, you took her plate and yours back to the kitchen, mind running.

Was that how your relationship, whatever it was, with JJ was supposed to end, his heart broken or yours? Why couldn’t it end happy? Did everything need to fall apart or was there actually hope that something good could come from this?

You helped Ms. Lana clean for another hour or so until the sun started to set.

“You should head home, my dear,” Ms. Lana said. “I am so grateful for your help.”

You gave her a tight hug.

“Any time you need me,” you told her, hands on her shoulders. “I will drop anything.”

“Even that boy of yours?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Where do you think I came from?”

It was nice to have someone else know, someone who wasn’t Kid or the Pogues. Ms. Lana was an adult who actually cared, who could give you good advice, who could help when you needed it. She was someone you could actually trust, someone to rely on. The thought made your smile grow wider.

“Have a good night, dear,” Ms. Lana said, walking you to your truck.

You sent her one last wave before pulling away.

You expected your dad to be angry when you got home, but you were confident you could talk yourself out of it.

“Where were you?” He demanded, as usual. “Someone told me they saw you on the cut. I thought I told you-”

“I was at Ms. Lana’s,” you said, forcing tears into your eyes. “She’s just so...with Scooter and everything.”

You covered your face with your hands, imitating sobbing sounds. Your dad dropped his anger instantly and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your back, holding you tight.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, planting a kiss on your head. You sobbed to cover a gag. “Scooter’s death hit us all really hard.”

You lifted your head up to meet your dad’s eyes, disgusted by how close he was to you.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you said, voice quiet. “I think I just need some time alone. Is that okay?”

Your dad nodded his head, letting you go. You took a careful step back.

“If you need me, Kiddo, I’m always here for you,” he said as you started toward the stairs. You nodded your head slowly.

“Thanks, Dad.” You dragged your feet upstairs. With your back turned to him, a smile made its way onto your lips. There was nothing like a successful guilt trip. Closing your door, you let your jitters leave your body by waving your arms in the air to some inaudible beat that you made up. It was only 8 o’clock (ish) and yet you had the whole night to do whatever you wanted without your dad checking on you. He hated it when you got weepy. He didn’t know how to handle it. So, he usually left you alone until the next day. That was how you had managed to sneak out to most of the parties in your past.

You just hoped the Pogues were planning something interesting that night.

JJ tapped on your window thirty minutes later. You threw the window open, shoes still on your feet.

“Where to?” You asked. “The Wreck to pick up Kie.” “And then?”

“John B won’t tell us until we’re all in the car.”

“That’s fine by me.”

You crawled out of your window, following JJ down to the ground. He took your hand as the two of you ran across the lawn and into the trees.

Jumping into the back of John B’s van. The front seat was empty, most likely reserved for Kie.

“Hey, Pope,” you said as you sat next to him. “John B.”

“Hey,” they both replied. JJ slid into the van behind you. “What have you boys been up to?” you asked.

“We went to the lighthouse,” Pope said. “Almost got arrested.”

“I did get arrested,” John B said.

“Pardon?” You leaned forward.

“Yeah. We went to the Redfield Lighthouse and it was fine and dandy until I showed the guy the compass. He freaked and called the cops.” You looked back at JJ, who pulled a blunt out of his pocket. He shrugged.

“How did you get out?”

“Kie’s dad bailed me out,” John B said as if it was the most normal thing.

“And we’re going to her workplace now?”

John B nodded his head.

“Yup.”

“Let’s just pray her dad doesn’t kill us.”

Her dad didn’t kill you. But the conversation between John B and Kie went on longer than you had expected.

“What colleges are you looking at, Pope?” You asked, trying to break the silence. You heard JJ sigh dramatically as he leaned his head against the window.

“I’m going to apply to as many as I can,” he said. “But it doesn’t really matter if I can’t get that scholarship. Have you been planning on college?” “Yeah. I have to get myself a good job to keep myself afloat, ya know? Like a lawyer or a doctor or something,” you said.

“You? A lawyer?” JJ asked with a scoff. You narrowed your eyes.

“Well, I’ll have to do something to survive, won’t I? I can’t be a dishwasher for my entire life.”

“Where are you going to apply?” Pope asked, trying to turn your attention away from JJ’s comment.

“Brown, I think. And maybe Harvard. Maybe some other reputable schools. I would prefer somewhere small, but who knows.”

“And I’m guessing your dad would pay for it?” Pope asked. You knew that he hadn’t meant the sharpness in his words, but you heard it anyway.

“Probably not,” you said, pulling at a tear in your jeans. “He doesn’t want to think about me leaving the house ever. I talked about college once and he….yeah, no, I don’t really bring it up.”

“What would your dream job be?” Pope turned to face you fully. “If you didn’t have to think about school or money or a family.”

You pulled your lip in between your teeth, looking around and leaning forward as if you were about to tell a secret.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise.”

“I don’t,” JJ said, lifting his hand. You smacked his hand out of the air before turning back to Pope.

“I want to be work in the archives of a museum,” you said, whispering.

“What?”

“Like, when people discover things, I want to catalog everything and date it and figure out where it was from and who used it and stuff like that.”

“That is so cool,” Pope said with a smile. JJ rolled his eyes.

“You want to be a coroner, right?” Pope nodded his head quickly. “That is seriously the coolest.”

“What did I say about being a kiss ass?” JJ asked from the back.

“Just because your aspirations are to be high all the time doesn’t mean it’s the same for the rest of us,” Pope said.

The car fell silent for a bit.

“I want to be a mechanic,” JJ said finally. “Like my dad.”

You leaned over to look at him. He was rolling the blunt in between his fingers, staring at it. He looked up at you, one eye squeezed shut. You smiled at him and he smiled back. It wasn’t his usual half-grin and it looked almost...sad, but it was a smile.

Both of the front doors opened at the same time. You turned around and smiled as Kie slid into the passenger seat.

“I heard you’ve had a busy day since I left,” you said. Kie rolled her eyes, a smile on her face as she glanced at John B.

“Yeah, it’s been crazy,” she said, sharing a knowing smile with John B.

“What the hell was that?” you whispered to Pope. He shrugged, looking at his hands, all the previous joy gone from his face.

They started down the road. It didn’t take long for JJ and Pope to start bickering about smoking or vaping or something along those lines.

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse,” John B said, interrupting their argument from going any further. “And I was wrong about pretty much everything else. But I was right about one thing. My dad is trying to tell me something.”

No one asked him what it was until he slowed to a stop at the cemetery.

“John B,” you asked, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Why are we in a cemetery?”

“Come on, guys,” was all he said. You sent a look at Kie and she simply shook her head, following John B out of the car.

“This place is freaky,” she said. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song, but you don’t know who sings it?”

“Everyday,” you grumbled.

“So, Redfield. This whole time I thought it was a place.” John B stopped in front of a crypt, shining the light onto the name at the top. “But what if it’s a person?”

“Voi-effing-la,” JJ said, staring up at the name.

Your stomach started to squeeze. You didn’t like dead things, especially not dead people. Cemeteries were creepy enough from the outside, you weren’t overly fond of being inside one.

“My great great grandmother Olivia,” John B said, glancing back at the group. “Her maiden name was Redfield.”

“I’ll be damned,” you breathed.

The five of you stared up at the crypt, all in different states of shock. The etching in the cursed compass actually meant something and that something was a clue that led you all here, to this crypt. You had a feeling you were all teetering at the edge of a cliff, a cliff none of you wanted to fall down. Except maybe John B.

“Help me with this door,” he said.

Pope stepped forward and tried to help him push the door open, but it wasn’t moving. Even when JJ tried to help, it still remained where it was.

“This door is like 700 pounds,” Pope groaned. “It’s not going to budge.”

“We didn’t come this far to get stuck at a door,” JJ said.

A quiet hiss from the door startled you. At first, you thought it was a booby trap and a poisonous gas had been released and you had all been infected, but then JJ relieved your fears.

“It’s a snake!”

The boys jumped backward.

“That’s a moccasin alright,” JJ said. When you looked over, there was a smile on his face. “Ye old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass.”

And then he proceeded to bark at it. You pressed your palm to your forehead.

“Are you seriously barking at a snake?” you asked, eyebrows pinched.

“JJ, shut up!” Kie sounded so done with him and the others and you couldn’t blame her. She put up with a lot. “You’re gonna wake the dead man!” Pope said, tapping JJ’s shoulder with his hand.

“What? They’re afraid of snakes. Everybody knows that.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t think everybody knows that.”

You stepped toward the door, trying to figure out exactly you all could get inside. There was a relatively large hole at the top.

“Hold up,” JJ said. “If there’s one, there’s probably dozens.”

You waved him off, standing on your toes to stick your hand through the hole. JJ started barking again and while the boys tried to shut him up, you put a hand on Kie’s elbow and pointed at the hole.

“I can get through there,” she said. You nodded your head and the two of you started to clear away the branches.

“What are you doing?” John B asked turning around.

“I can fit through the hole,” Kie said, pointing at it.

“You’re not going through there.” He shook his head.

“Look, this is about your dad. And honestly, I don’t believe in it, but you deserve to know the truth.” John B looked away from her and she gave a little shrug of her shoulders. “I’ll do it.”

You crouched down, setting out your palms to hoist her up. Pope held onto her waist to stabilize her.

“I’m coming too,” you said once she was inside. Putting a flashlight between your lips, JJ and Pope helped you through the hole after Kie. You dropped to the ground and your pulse started to race. You really hated dead things.

“You alive?” John B asked. “You got like a, a heartbeat and everything?”

“So far,” Kie called back, shining the flashlight around. A shudder ran through you as your light shone over a broken casket.

“I hate it in here,” you said, wandering around. “What are we looking for again?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” John B told you.

“Real helpful,” you mumbled, shoving your free hand into your sweater pocket.

“Oh my god,” Kie breathed, standing by a crack in the wall.

“What is it?” You crossed the crypt and stood by Kie to see what was in her hands. “Oh my god.”

“Did you find something?” JJ called from outside.

Kie pulled the envelope from the crack and turned to look at you, a hint of a smile on her face.

“He was right,” she breathed. You smiled up at her.

“Now can we get the hell out of here?”

***

Taglist - @bitterbethany @lovelymaybankk @ilymarkchan @downbytheouterbanks @clearcolourlessglass @obxwriterfan @tangledinsparkles @chill-sushi

#jj maybank #jj x oc #jj x reader #jj obx #pope heyward #john b routledge #john b obx #obx #outer banks #kiara obx #kie obx #reader insert

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maybeimamuppet · 3 years

Text

dream a better dream

hello my little muppets!! happy wednesday!

this is a request fill for @erikascadys who requested sharkboy and lavagirl au! janis is lavagirl and damian is shark boy. and cady is just cady :))

i don't think i need any trigger warnings, but as always if I've missed one please let me know so I can add it!

anyway, please enjoy!

---

Cady has always been a dreamer.

Growing up in Kenya, it was nearly the only thing she could do to entertain herself. Sure, she had a few toys, or books to read, or lions to chase. But in terms of other humans, all she had were her parents and her dreams.

Her personal favorite dream first appeared one night when she was ten. Cady’s family had just gotten the news that her older brother, Rhys, had been killed in the line of combat. The only place Cady has as an escape from her grief is in her dreams.

She dreams of two people. Friends. A boy and a girl. The boy is part human, part shark. He has legs, but also fins. A human face, but shark teeth. And human hands, but sharp claws. In spite of everything, he seems kind. He cares for his shark friends and all the fish, carefully tends to the corals and feeds the seaweed and anemones. Cady cleverly dubs him Sharkboy.

The girl is very different. She’s made of lava and fire, with bright pink hair and the ability to shoot lava from her hands. Cady doesn’t know much else about her. She names her Lavagirl and leaves it at that.

Cady frantically writes her dream in her dream journal when she wakes up the next morning. She’s kept one since she learned how to write, detailing all her most precious dreams. She has a feeling this one is extra special.

“I’m going to the watering hole to take a bath!” She yells to her parents as she runs out of their tent. Her dad grabs her by the back of her shirt and scoops her up before she can make it out. “Hey!”

“Why are you suddenly so eager to take a bath?” Her dad asks, setting her down again.

“I’m not! I’m just excited for the day! I had a super special dream!” Cady says, bouncing up and down a few times. Her dad gives her a sad smile and ruffles her hair.

“Okay. Watch for crocs and hurry back for breakfast, binti.”

“I will!” Cady says, dashing out again.

After a quick but expert assessment, Cady dubs the small pool to be free of crocodiles and any other predators. The zebras wouldn’t be drinking here for so long, otherwise. Cady leaps in with a small splash and opens her eyes under the water. She’s been trying to learn how to do that recently.

But someone else is there. She screams and pops her head back above the surface. The figure follows. “Sharkboy?”

“Yeah!” Sharkboy says. “Hi!”

“You’re real?” Cady asks in awe.

“Yeah, duh! I’m right here,” Sharkboy says.

“Whoa,” Cady whispers. “Um… can I finish my bath, please? Then we can get to know each other!”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry!” Sharkboy says, turning around and covering his eyes. Cady swims back down and finishes cleaning herself, then dries herself off and gets dressed. Sharkboy swims up and rests on the shore.

“I thought you were a dream,” Cady murmurs, tilting her head. Sharkboy shakes his head.

“Nope! Well, kinda. But everything that is, or was, or will be, began with a dream.”

“Huh,” Cady says, tilting her head. “Okay, do you wanna go play? I’ve never… I’ve never had a human friend before.”

“I’m not human,” Sharkboy says, smiling so she can see his teeth.

“Oh, right,” Cady giggles. “I’ve never had a shark friend before either.”

Sharkboy smiles wider. “Yeah, come on. I bet you’re pretty fast growing up out here.”

“Tag! You’re it!”

Cady shares her breakfast with Sharkboy, and they play together in between Cady’s chores. She learns his real name is Damian, and that he was a marine biologist with his mother. Their research base was destroyed in a storm, and he was practically adopted by the sharks. And now he searches the universe for his mother.

“I hope you find her,” Cady says genuinely. “We lost my brother a while ago. But he’s not coming back.”

“I heard. I’m sorry,” Sharkboy says. Cady shrugs.

“It’s okay. I miss him a lot, but my parents say he’s still with me. Anyway, you wanna come see the lions? They’re my favorite.”

Sharkboy nods and runs after her to help feed the lions their dinner. The sun is setting, painting the sky gold and orange and pink as it makes its way down for the day. Once the first stars are just beginning to twinkle for the night, a bright flash of pink light suddenly glows from behind them.

“Lavagirl,” Cady breathes when she turns around. Lavagirl smiles slightly and nods. Maybe that really is her name. “You’re real too!”

“Sharkboy, I need your help,” Lavagirl says. “You have to come with me. A great crisis is developing on the Planet Drool.”

Sharkboy nods and heads to her side. They begin to run off together, before freezing and turning back to Cady.

“Can you come as well, Cady?”

“Er… I would,” Cady stutters. “I’d really like to, but… I have homeschool tomorrow.”

Lavagirl nods in understanding, and they both turn back and continue running off. Cady doesn’t see them again.

—-

Until six years later. Cady’s parents have lost their funding and are forced to move back to America. Cady is both upset and excited. She’s sad to be leaving the only home she’s known, but eager to experience life in the west. And go to real school for the first time.

She starts at North Shore High three days after they move to Chicago. Her wishes for a happy American life are quickly dashed.

The building is massive and meandering, built of a labyrinth of hallways and classrooms that all look the same and packed wall to wall with other kids all shoving and pushing and yelling. Like sardines.

Sharkboy would like that, she thinks with a little smile. And he could use his navigation instincts to help me get around this place.

By some miracle she makes it to homeroom on time and plops herself in an empty seat near the front of the room. She looks up when it suddenly goes quiet and the teacher begins speaking.

“Hello class, I’m Ms. Norbury, I teach AP Calculus,” she begins. Cady looks up in relief and checks her schedule. This is her math teacher. “And we have a new student this year, I see. Caddy Heron?”

“Uh-it’s Cady,” Cady stutters quietly, raising her hand. “I used to be homeschooled.”

That gets a few snickers from people in the back of the room, and Ms. Norbury’s demeanor seems to change slightly. “That’s a fun way to steal from my union.”

“Oh! No, no,” Cady says immediately. “I grew up in Kenya, my parents are zoologists. Not many unions there.”

Much to her relief, Ms. Norbury relaxes slightly and gives her a kind smile. “In that case, welcome to North Shore. I saw you on my roster for the afternoon, I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

Cady gives her an eager smile back and nods as she gathers her things once the bell goes off.

—-

In her English class, she gets an assignment to write a short story about her favorite childhood memory. Cady thinks long and hard about which moment to choose. The time a lion broke into her tent and cuddled her all night? Or the time she got to see the city of Nairobi for the first time? Her first airplane trip?

Suddenly, it hits her. She had never had more fun as a kid than when she spent the day with Sharkboy. So Cady writes about that. What could go wrong?

As it turns out, reading the essay aloud in front of the whole class is what can go wrong. Cady eagerly volunteers to go first. Mistake one.

She looks up when she finishes reading, to the sneers and smirks of her classmates. And that’s before they start laughing out loud. One of them even throws a ball of paper at her.

“Sit down, Cady,” her teacher says gently. Cady sits down quietly back at her spot, trying to ignore the jeers of the other students. “Cady appears to have merely misunderstood the assignment. I asked for true stories. But that was a very well done work of fiction.”

“It is true!” Cady says, much louder than she’s spoken all day. Another paper ball hits her. Cady pulls her dream journal out of her backpack, where she also wrote about the day she got to spend with Sharkboy. “He said everything that is, or was, started with a dream. It’s true.”

Her teacher looks at her sadly and gives a slight head shake as the next kid gets up to read their essay. Cady doesn’t speak up again until the bell rings.

“Cady, a moment please,” her teacher asks quietly. Cady sheepishly heads over to her desk. “You have a real way with words. But you’re sixteen, in the eleventh grade. It’s time to stop dreaming, okay?”

Cady takes the pencil she had tucked behind her ear and scratches that down in her journal. “No dreaming. Got it. I-I’ll try harder.”

Her teacher looks at her sadly but nods, sending her off to her next class. Cady is pulling her schedule out of her backpack to check the room number when she’s suddenly knocked to the ground.

“Watch where you’re going, jungle freak,” the girl she’s bumped into spits.

“I’m sorry,” Cady says desperately. “I didn’t see you, I didn’t mean it-“

“I’m sure you didn’t. As payback… what is that?”

“My-my dream journal,” Cady says, clutching it to her chest.

“Can I see it?” The girl asks. Cady naively hands it over. The girl flips through it and laughs. “You’ll get an edited version tomorrow.”

“Wait, give it back!” Cady yells, trying to run after her. The girl’s two cronies block her path.

“Trust us, don’t mess with Regina. We’ll try to keep her from doing too much to it. But she can do a lot worse,” the blonde one murmurs.

Cady hollowly stops fighting them and steps back. The girls give her an apologetic look before they run after their friend.

————-

Cady cries herself to sleep that night. America is nothing like she thought it would be. She wishes she could be back in Kenya, where the only things around for miles to laugh at her were the hyenas. Or, at the very least, that she wouldn’t have to go to school tomorrow. Maybe there’ll be a bad storm. With tornados.

In her dreams, Sharkboy and Lavagirl make an appearance for the first time since she was eleven. She’d gotten little glimpses of their work on planet Drool, as they helped make it into the awesome planet of Cady’s dreams. They seemed happy.

But something is wrong, now. Cady can’t quite piece it together, but the scenes she can see clearly aren’t right. She wakes up with a gasp and runs to the window. A bright, clear day greets her mockingly.

“Guess I didn’t dream hard enough.”

—————

Cady trudges through the morning. Her parents are arguing over something or other, probably trying to get her father a job again. Cady’s mom asks her to come right home after school so they can all talk. Cady suddenly starts wishing something will happen at school so she doesn’t have to go home.

By lunch, the sky about matches her mood. Dark clouds block out any hint of blue that wanted to shine through, and loom ominously over the building. Her science teacher takes the opportunity to teach about tornados and their origins.

Regina strolls in casually about ten minutes after the bell, holding a bag that must be too small to carry all her books. Not that she cares.

Cady stands and goes to her desk, holding out a hand. “Give it back.”

“Ladies, is there an issue?” the teacher asks.

“Regina took my dream journal yesterday.”

“Ooh, a liar, too, how fun,” Regina titters.

“Regina, give Cady her book. It hasn’t even been a week and you’re already picking up the bullying again,” the teacher huffs. Something tells Cady that Regina had never set the bullying down in the first place.

Begrudgingly, Regina picks up her designer bag and roots through it. Cady thankfully takes her precious book back. But as she opens it to check that all her dreams are where they were before, she gasps in horror.

Every single page has been scratched out one way or another. Lipstick, black marker in swirly handwriting, even a few pages covered in letter stickers that spell out particularly cruel taunts.

“She ruined it!”

“Where’s your proof, you little freak?” Regina retaliates.

“That’s enough! Both of you will be reporting with me to the principal’s office after school. With your parents,” the teacher yells, trying to get her class back under control. It turns out to be a futile effort when the windows suddenly blow open with the force of the winds outside. “I do not get paid enough for this.”

Everyone ducks underneath their desks as papers start flying around the room, covering their heads and faces for protection. In her haste to get back to her desk, Cady accidentally drops the journal by Regina’s feet, who bends down to pick it up with a coy smirk.

Cady has curled up in a ball beneath her desk when there’s suddenly a thunderous crash accompanied by the sounds of breaking glass. Carefully, Cady peeks up above to see…

Sharkboy and Lavagirl. Evidently having entered through a new hole in the wall.

“I’m looking for Cady,” Lavagirl says, staring down Cady’s classmates. Everyone points to Cady’s desk in the far corner. Cady squeaks and ducks back down. Lavagirl makes her way over regardless, setting homework alight on her way. When she reaches her, Lavagirl lifts Cady’s desk off the ground with just one hand, revealing Cady curled in a frightened ball. “We need your help, Cady. Come with us.”

“Wh-what do I have to do?” Cady stutters, following after the girl made of fire.

“Just come with us, we’ll explain on the way.”

“Hi Cady!” Sharkboy says, waving eagerly. Lavagirl whacks him gently.

“I can’t go with you.” Cady says.

“Why not?”

“Be-because you’re not real! Both of you! You’re just a dream,” Cady says, trying to admit it to herself as well. “And-and you’ll be gone when I open my eyes.”

Cady squeezes her eyes shut for a moment.

When she opens them again, Sharkboy and Lavagirl are gone. Or so she thinks.

“We’re still here, Cady,” Sharkboy says from behind her. Cady screams and whirls around.

“If you want to stop The Darkness from destroying our worlds,” Lavagirl growls slightly. “You’ll come with us.”

“You should probably go with them,” Cady’s teacher squeaks, poking her head up from behind her desk. Cady nods.

“Okay. I-I’ll go with you.”

——————

“Where are we going?” Cady yells, trying to keep up with her friends. Creations? No, friends is much better.

“Planet Drool!” Sharkboy yells over his shoulder.

“It’s real?!”

“Yeah! We just punched a hole in your school, is it so hard to believe?”

“How are we getting there?”

“Enough with the questions!” Lavagirl demands. Cady suddenly notices the shark shaped rocket ship in front of them.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Put on the goggles,” Lavagirl says, handing Cady a pair of electric blue ones. Hers are purple, and Sharkboy’s are pink. Cady doesn’t judge.

“So how do you fly this thing?” Sharkboy asks. Cady looks at him.

“You don’t know?”

“That’s our whole problem!” Lavagirl says angrily. Cady blinks at her a few times sheepishly before she slams her foot on a pedal. It reveals a green ‘GO’ button. Cady presses it, and they’re off.

Cady looks out the window at the tornados, before they’re suddenly in the atmosphere.

“How do you control it?!” Lavagirl yells at her over the roaring of the engines.

“It has an auto-pilot!” Cady yells back. Lavagirl smacks the button in front of her.

“Wow, you really thought of everything!” Sharkboy says happily.

“Er… not exactly,” Cady says.

“How the fuck do we land?!” Lavagirl says when she realizes.

“That’s the bit I forgot!”

“Well, there’s Neptune,” Lavagirl spits. “Hold on to your asses!”

Cady braces and shuts her eyes, clinging to her harness for safety. Luckily they don’t seem to crash too hard. The ground is almost… squishy.

The mouth of the shark-rocket opens for them to step out onto the surface of the planet. Cady looks out in awe at the world she’s created.

“Do you recognize it, Cady?” Sharkboy asks quietly.

“Not really,” Cady admits shyly. “I feel like I should, but I just… don’t.”

“It’s affecting you too, then,” Sharkboy says sadly. Lavagirl glares at him. “I thought she’d remember!”

“Remember what?”

“Your dreams,” Lavagirl says. “The whole fucking planet? Us? Your powers?”

“I’ve got powers?”

“More than any of us,” Sharkboy says. “Remember what I told you when we met? Everything that is, or was, or will be, began with a dream. And you dreamt us, and this whole place!”

“Every dream you ever had landed here,” Lavagirl says.

“Oh. Why-why is it so dark? I don’t have that many nightmares,” Cady says.

“It began yesterday. What’s the calculation, Sharkboy?” Lavagirl asks. Sharkboy pulls out a shark-shaped device. It’s beeping quietly and seems to be scanning the environment for something.

“About forty-five minutes,” he replies.

“Forty-five minutes until what?” Cady asks.

“Until the planet… is… destroyed,” Sharkboy says sheepishly.

“We didn’t pick you up to save you,” Lavagirl says, looking out over the darkening horizon. “We need you to save us.”

“Oh. How-how do I do that?” Cady asks anxiously. This is way more responsibility than she asked for when she started keeping a dream journal.

“The dream lair over there. That’s where your dreams are going bad,” Sharkboy says sadly. “We have to get you there and find out what’s happening to them. And hopefully reverse it.”

Sounds simple enough.

“We’ll have to travel through the Passage of Time, catch the Train of Thought, swim down the Stream of Consciousness, and skate across the Sea of Confusion. Because it’s frozen now. Nice going, Cady,” Lavagirl grumbles.

“Lava, don’t be mean! It’s not her fault,” Sharkboy admonishes. “We brought Cady here to put things back in order. We just have to stay positive! It’s not the end of the world.”

“It literally is, though!” Lavagirl yells from a ways away. She turns around and walks backwards away from them for a moment. “The planet is dying, come on!”

“What’s her deal?” Cady asks anxiously as she and Sharkboy run after Lavagirl. Suddenly, a groaning creak is heard, and they both turn around to find the shark rocket being swallowed by the Darkness. “Run!”

Everyone picks up the pace, until they’re suddenly on a platform moving rapidly towards a sort of carnival.

“How is this here if you’ve never been to a carnival?” Lavagirl asks.

“I read about them in books and stuff. I always wanted to go to one,” Cady says sheepishly. “I was, like, ten, give me a break!” Lavagirl shrugs and turns away from her with a huff. “Where is everyone? My dream planet shouldn’t be so lonely.”

“They’re stuck,” Sharkboy says, pointing to a roller coaster weaving around a tall mountain that looks remarkably like Kilimanjaro. “Trapped. Ms. Neverbury has everyone kind of held hostage.”

“How awful,” Cady says sadly. “My world was supposed to be fun.”

“Oh, it’s fun, alright,” Lavagirl chuckles sardonically. “Endless fun. Once you get on, you can’t get off.”

“Kids aren’t allowed to rest here, because if they rest, they sleep, if they sleep, they dream, and if they dream…”

“It takes power away from Neverbury. But we have a secret weapon to stop her,” Lavagirl says mischievously.

“Oh, good,” Cady says in relief.

“It’s you, dipshit,” Lavagirl huffs.

“Oh. You know, you’re a lot more rude than I remember!” Cady yells as Lavagirl rushes up to the coaster. “You’re very dismissive!”

“Get used to it!” Lavagirl yells back, reaching up a fist and floating up to the carts rushing around.

“Don’t mind her, she’s having a sort of… identity crisis,” Sharkboy says apologetically. “She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s scared, and she gets angry when she’s afraid.”

“Would you two shut up? We’re on a time crunch here!” Lavagirl reminds them, dangling upside down from the coaster.

“Oh, oops,” Sharkboy says. He does the same motion and joins Lavagirl above their heads, moving to stop the coaster. Cady tries it too, but she can only jump about a foot.

“Man, why can’t I do that?”

Luckily for her, there’s a ladder a few feet away. She’ll have to use that until she figures out how to jump the way her new friends do.

“Whoa,” she breathes as Lavagirl suddenly lands on the cart of the coaster, somehow perfectly steady even as it hurtles around the winding track. Everyone on the cart cheers in relief. Lavagirl hops down in front of it, causing sparks to fly as she attempts to stop it with one hand and shoots lava to weaken the tracks with the other. Sharkboy grabs onto the back and pulls, and their combined strength makes the coaster grind to a halt.

“Who knows where Neverbury is hiding?” Lavagirl demands. She tilts her head in confusion as everyone appears to have both hands raised. “All of you?”

“You’re all upside down,” Cady giggles from her position on the ladder.

“Oh.”

Suddenly, a booming voice echos around them. “Who is stopping my unstoppable fun?!”

Lavagirl gasps and shoots small jets from both hands to release the bars on all the kids, allowing them to fall gently to the ground and run to safety.

“Who is Neverbury?” Cady asks, hopping into the coaster herself and bringing the bar down for protection as it begins to move again. Sharkboy sits next to her, and Lavagirl stands on the front to coast along.

“She’s supposed to be the sort of protector here,” Sharkboy says. “Keep everyone safe. Be a light. But all she brings now is darkness.”

Cady is about to respond when she’s suddenly slammed backwards into her seat. She screams as the coaster suddenly rockets off, hurtling down the track at impossible speeds. Nothing is impossible here, she reminds herself.

“She’s taking us up!” Sharkboy yells. Cady clings to his arm in fright. She decides she’s not quite so interested in riding roller coasters anymore.

Cady peeks up from Sharkboy when they finally come to a blessed stop, letting out a little squeak of fright. Sharkboy gently pats her head to let her know it’s alright before he hops out of the cart. Lavagirl follows him, and Cady scrambles out once she can feel her extremities again.

A large robot has its back to them, fiddling with various buttons and levers to bring images up on the large screens in front of it. It yells something at whatever she sees before it turns to see them. Cady screams quietly. It looks a lot like Ms. Norbury. What I wouldn’t give to be in calculus class right now.

“Well well well, if it isn’t Sharkboy and Lavagirl,” the robot says. “What do you want? Why have you halted my endless fun and infiltrated my lair?”

“We don’t need permission from you, you circular bitch,” Lavagirl huffs.

“Man. Fiery today,” Neverbury huffs. She appears to notice Cady then. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Ms. Neverbury.”

“Um-hi,” Cady says anxiously.

“Why are you doing this to our planet? You’re supposed to be running it,” Sharkboy demands.

“You’re supposed to be running it,” Neverbury mocks. “I am running it, I do run it. Right into the ground. Er, those are my orders.”

Maybe Cady has less control here than Sharkboy and Lavagirl thought. Everything here is supposed to be under her command, but she would’ve never ordered something like this. “Who ordered that?”

“No school, no discipline, no rules,” Neverbury continues. Cady loves school. She loves rules. This is clearly the work of someone else. Not even childhood Cady would’ve done something like this. “And no dreaming.”

“Dreams can destroy you, can’t they?” Lavagirl asks coyly. “That’s why we have to stop you.”

“You and what army?” Neverbury scoffs.

“Guys,” Cady says quietly, pointing behind them. A series of electrical plugs appear to have come to life behind them, sparking ominously. That’s probably not good.

Sharkboy and Lavagirl snap to attention, doing a series of very sophisticated moves and fighting the plugs back. Lavagirl looks very eager to be demonstrating some rather violent tendencies.

“Hey Sparky,” she calls loudly, getting Neverbury’s attention. “Catch me if you can.”

Cady and Sharkboy watch as she sets her hands and feet alight and rockets herself upwards, to another metal platform higher up. Neverbury follows and winces as Lavagirl shoots jets of magma out of her hands.

Cady doesn’t quite know what to do. She was never much good at fighting. Sharkboy snaps back into his fights, punching out several of the plugs and grinding their circuits with his sharp teeth. Wanting to be helpful, Cady grabs a cord and tugs as hard as she can. Eventually, it gives, and Cady winds up on her behind looking up at a plug. It rattles rather ominously and gives chase, so Cady bolts. So to speak.

She runs as fast as she can, and being Kenyan, she’s still pretty fast. She turns to check that she’s lost her pursuer at one point, and finds the plug straining at the confines of its cord.

“Aww, are you a bit short?” She teases. “We’ve all been there. Come get me, loser!”

“Cady, stop trash talking, it doesn’t suit you,” Lavagirl yells, still fighting off Neverbury above them.

“Fine,” Cady huffs. She tips her head and coos quietly as the plug continues straining. Suddenly it appears to ‘look’ to its left and spies another plug. Cady watches in horror as it plugs itself in and gives itself more reach. “Ah, shuck!”

She runs again, but pauses when she hears crunching behind her. Sharkboy is jumping up

and down on the plug, smashing it to bits and stomping out any hint of current still running through it. He smiles at Cady when the last spark flies and fizzles out.

“You’re amazing,” Cady beams.

“You had to be scared of electricity?!” Lavagirl yells.

“I grew up in a tent, I don’t like it!” Cady yells back.

“Both of you shut up!” Neverbury yells. Lavagirl shoots a stronger jet at her face. Neverbury closes her eyes and drifts down slightly. Lavagirl relaxes, but Neverbury quickly pops back up. “Haha, pranked.”

“Good one,” Lavagirl huffs, grinding her heels in an attempt to get a good stance to continue fighting.

“Did you really believe you could stop me? Aww,” Neverbury coos.

Lavagirl kites her back down to Cady and Sharkboy. Sharkboy runs up to aid in the fight.

“I know we can’t,” he says threateningly. “But she can!”

They both point to Cady, who stands there uselessly. Neverbury laughs. Cady holds up her fists.

“Show ‘em what you’re made of, Cades,” Lavagirl huffs.

“What am I supposed to do?” Cady asks urgently. Lavagirl takes a moment to smack Sharkboy upside the head.

“I told you this would happen!”

“I thought she would remember!” Sharkboy defends, rubbing his sore spot.

“Remember what?!” Cady demands from the both of them.

Lavagirl is about to answer when she’s suddenly snatched up by one of Neverbury’s metal claws. Cady shrieks as the other claw grabs her by the foot and dangles her upside down.

“Your dream! Remember the dream,” Sharkboy yells at her.

“I don’t remember half my dreams!” Cady yells back. “That’s why I write them in my journal!”

“What part of your dream do you remember?” Lavagirl yells, trying to get free from Neverbury’s grasp.

“I remember this,” Cady says, feeling like she’s about to hurl. Keep it together. Sharkboy is grabbed by a third claw and brought up to their level.

“Where are you taking us?!” He demands.

“Oh, where all useless dreams go. The dream dump,” Neverbury shrugs. The three of them are suddenly dangled over the chasm below, and dropped.

“This is not what I signed up for!” Cady yells on her way down.

—-

They fall for who knows how long before thudding down onto a metal platform. It spits them back out, onto a sort of conveyor belt. At least they all made it.

“Cuckoo!” Sharkboy warns. Everyone ducks down to avoid being decapitated by a large bird. “At least we’re on the passage of time! Maybe it’ll take us to the dream lair!”

Cady looks around at the various clocks they’re surrounded by. Something isn’t right with them. They’re going backwards.

“It’s going the wrong way,” Lavagirl huffs. “Dream lair is that way, genius.”

“What is the dream lair?” Cady asks quietly.

“It’s where all the dreams that fuel the planet are stored,” Sharkboy replies. “But they’re being destroyed.”

“How?”

“That’s what we have to find out. Soon, even the two of us will cease to exist,” Sharkboy sighs, gesturing to himself and Lavagirl.

“Duck!” Lavagirl yells, pointing. Everyone hits the deck again to avoid a duck-shaped cuckoo. “Heh.”

“Cady, just out of curiosity,” Sharkboy asks as they warily stand once again. “Where is this dream journal?”

“Oh, good idea,” Lavagirl says, the first positive thing she’s said all day. “We can read it out loud and set everything back the way it was!” She adds in a whisper, “And maybe find out my true identity.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Where is it?”

“I… uh…,” Cady stutters, feeling around in her pockets. “I don’t have it. I must have dropped it during the storm.”

Lavagirl’s hair suddenly sets ablaze in anger, and she shatters the next cuckoo in a single punch. “I was really starting to think you were the answer, Cady.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Sharkboy grumbles protectively. “She’s just mad because she’s having an identity crisis and you didn’t fix it for her.”

“Shut up, Sharky!” Lavagirl yells. “Look who’s talking. You’re mad she didn’t make you… king of the ocean or whatever the fuck, with a giant fish army. Cady thought her dream world would be a happy place. We’ve all been had.”

“Guys!” Cady yells, interrupting their bickering. “End of the line.”

“Oh, shit,” Sharkboy says, as the end of the conveyor belt gets ever nearer. There’s nowhere to go but down. Lavagirl falls first, followed by Cady and Sharkboy.

Cady yelps in pain as she lands smack on top of Lavagirl, scrambling away to avoid any serious burns. Lavagirl buries her face in the dirt and groans. “I think you dislocated a few of my craters.”

“Sorry,” Cady says frantically. “Ow, you’re hot.”

“Thanks,” Lavagirl teases. “We gotta find a way out of here.”

The three of them stand and dust themselves off carefully, before setting off in an attempt to find an exit.

“I don’t think there is a way out of here,” Sharkboy says after a while. “And the Darkness is coming.” He appears to realize something, suddenly. “Wait! Cady, sit down.”

“Uh… okay,” Cady says confusedly, sitting down on a pile of calculus textbooks.

“Now dream,” Sharkboy commands. “What do you see?”

Cady closes her eyes carefully and tries to dream. “I see… a giant… Kälteen bar.” Both her companions look very unimpressed when she opens her eyes again. “I’m sorry, I’m starving! I never got my lunch.”

“For the love of magma,” Lavagirl huffs, massaging the bridge of her nose.

“Here,” Sharkboy offers, brandishing a… fish? Maybe? “Fresh sushi.”

“Blech, that’s not fresh,” Cady nearly-heaves. “I don’t even know if that’s sushi anymore.”

“Just a few weeks old,” Sharkboy shrugs.

“You want me to cook it for you?” Lavagirl asks, wrapping a fist around the poor… thing. When she pulls away, it’s been charred to a crisp. “Oops.”

“Er… on second thought, I’m not that hungry, it’s fine,” Cady says. “Let me try again.”

“Hey, um… if you happen to dream about, like, who I am… how I fit into this world,” Lavagirl murmurs. “That would… really be helpful for me.”

“Stop distracting her. Focus on the problem at hand,” Sharkboy insists.

“I can put her to sleep,” Lavagirl huffs. Sharkboy grabs her and pulls her away. “Come on, one punch?”

“She made us!”

“And where has that gotten us?!” Lavagirl roars. Cady backs away in fright, until she hits something with a metallic clang. She whirls around and looks up to see…

“Tobor!”

“Huh?”

“It’s Tobor! I tried to build him out of our old food cans and stuff when I was little,” Cady says happily. “But… I could never get him to work.”

“So here he is, forgotten in the dream dump,” Lavagirl says, finally seeming to calm down.

“He’s supposed to be very smart. Maybe he can help,” Cady says. “Tobor, wake up!”

“Yeees?” Tobor replies. Cady gasps in shock. That voice is… familiar.

“Rhys?” She asks, eyes brimming with tears. She hasn’t heard that voice since she was eight years old. She thought she had forgotten. Tobor just gives her a wink. That’s all the confirmation she needs.

“Hello, Cady Heron.”

“You can answer anything, right?” Cady asks, wiping her eyes and looking up at Tobor’s large tin head.

“That I can. Whether it is correct is another matter entirely,” Tobor replies ominously.

“It can answer anything?” Lavagirl asks, unceremoniously shoving Cady out of the way. “Tell me something about me. Please.”

“Never heard you say please before,” Sharkboy grumbles under his breath.

“You are extremely bright,” Tobor says to Lavagirl. Her brow furrows, but she gets a slight grin as she tries to work out what that could mean. Sharkboy goes next.

“Hi Tobor! Am I king of the ocean?”

“No.”

“Damn it.”

Cady chuckles and pats his shoulder comfortingly before she goes to ask Tobor her question. “How do I save this planet?”

“The answer… is in your dreams,” Tobor says.

“You mean if I put her to sleep?” Lavagirl asks, brandishing what looks to be a tire iron.

“No, where did you even find that?!” Sharkboy says, wrestling her to take it and throwing it as far away from them as he can.

“No… at least, not here. Darkness is falling. Any dream of hers will become a nightmare. And you don��t want those becoming a reality,” Tobor continues. “But, if you go to the land of Kälteen bars… that’s where the good dreams are.”

“Oh, duh!” Sharkboy says, as if it should’ve been obvious the whole time.

“That’s where the answers are.”

“Can you take us there?” Cady asks Tobor.

“I would, but I have no body. I can’t move,” Tobor says sadly.

Lavagirl looks him up and down suspiciously. “You can move your eyes and your mouth.”

“I suppose that might work.”

Lavagirl and Sharkboy each take one of his eyes, and Cady climbs into his mouth. Suddenly, they detach from the large tin can that made up Tobor’s head a drift off to the land of Kälteen bars. What a day.

——

“Tobor, why didn’t you work when I built you?” Cady asks, drifting peacefully over what looks like a forest of brains.

“Some dreams are so powerful they become real on their own, like Sharkboy and Lavagirl. I, on the other hand, am still only a dream.”

“Oh.”

“Um…” Tobor says.

“What’s the matter?”

“Train of thought. I’m losing it.”

“Land of Kälteen bars,” Lavagirl huffs.

“No, I’m literally losing the train of thought,” Tobor says. “Down there.”

“Huh,” Cady says interestedly, looking down. “I never thought I had a train.”

“What did you think you had?” Sharkboy chuckles.

“I dunno,” Cady shrugs. “Maybe a race car. Doesn’t get too much use, but when it does it goes fast and needs frequent pit stops.”

Lavagirl chuckles at that, but stops abruptly and tries to cover it up with a cough.

“Well, since I do actually have a train… how do I keep it on track?” Cady asks anxiously.

“With your mind. You are easily distracted. Stay focused, and it will speed you directly to the land of Kälteen bars,” Tobor explains. “The rest is up to you.”

Cady and her companions jump down onto the train. Cady looks back at her old creation for a moment. “I’m sorry I forgot you.”

“Are you kidding? You’ve just saved me,” Tobor chuckles gently. “I’m free.”

“Cady!” Lavagirl yells. “Get your ass down here!”

Cady gasps and whirls around. Lavagirl has her head poking out the window of the engine car.

“What’s wrong?!” Cady yells over the roar of the train engine.

“We can’t control it!” Sharkboy says as he and Lavagirl frantically press every button and flip every lever they can reach. Cady joins in as if she knows what she’s doing.

“All you have to do is keep it on track,” she says. Sounds easy enough.

“There is no track!” Lavagirl reminds them. Cady freezes and looks out the window. She’s right.

“What do we do?” Sharkboy asks anxiously.

“Uh… scream?” Lavagirl says. “I don’t know.”

Sharkboy flips another lever, and the door opens. “Jump! It’ll be fine!”

He leaps out the door and is quickly blown off by a gust of wind. Lavagirl follows almost immediately. Cady is left alone on a crashing train. At least if she jumps she’ll crash with her friends.

Cady closes her eyes and leaps, hoping for a miracle. The wind blows her hair everywhere and stings her skin as she hurtles to the ground. Until it stops. Warily, she opens her eyes.

“A Kälteen bar!” She says happily, pushing herself upright. It tips slightly, so she puts her arms out for balance. “Whoa. In a river of milk. Huh. Um… do you guys know what it means when your train of thought… crashes?”

“Nothing good,” Lavagirl says, sounding remarkably chipper. “How much time, Sharky?”

“Twenty minutes,” Sharkboy replies anxiously. He takes a step forward to look around, but his foot suddenly sinks into a puddle of something. He yelps in surprise, but crouches down to inspect it. “Chocolate?”

“It must be the s’mores flavor,” Cady chuckles. “There’s marshmallows too.”

“Why Kälteen bars, though?” Lavagirl asks. “And not, like, cookies, or something?”

“I never had cookies as a kid,” Cady replies. “But we always had Kälteens. And I wasn’t really allowed to eat them, I ate a whole box in a row once and got sick, so my parents hid them and I could only get them if they gave them to me. They were a special thing.”

Lavagirl gives this a moment’s thought and nods. “Try to dream again. Lie down.”

Cady does, using a bit of marshmallow as a pillow. She closes her eyes, but the bar beneath her begins to shake. “It’s too shaky.”

“I hear it too,” Sharkboy says, listening around with his highly trained ears. Lavagirl raises a suspicious eyebrow at the two of them.

“Let me try.”

“No, Lava-“ Sharkboy says, but it’s too late. Lavagirl rests her head on the marshmallow, and the whole thing is suddenly charred. “Hothead.”

“Cady,” Lavagirl says suddenly. “When you dreamt up these giant bars… who did you expect to be able to eat them?”

Cady shrugs. “I dunno, I never really thought about that part.”

“Because if you dream giant bars, something has to be created to consume giant bars,” Lavagirl explains. The rumbling sounds get louder, suddenly, and everyone looks around for the source.

“Giants!” Sharkboy yells, pointing off to the left. He abandons ship again, followed by Lavagirl. Cady is so distracted looking at the giants that she nearly doesn’t make it off, leaping at the very last second before one of the giants chomps down on the Kälteen bar raft.

Luckily for them, they appear to land on…

“Hey, this was my ninth birthday cake! That thing was awesome,” Cady laughs. “Nice and springy.”

“Too much frosting,” Lavagirl grumbles, trying to brush herself clean.

Cady removes herself from her cake and turns around, watching the giants leave peacefully hand in hand. Sharkboy approaches her and rests a hand on her shoulder.

“Those giants look a lot like my parents,” Cady murmurs.

“They seem happy together,” Sharkboy nods. “Is that… another dream of yours?”

“Family,” Cady nods. “Hasn’t really been coming true lately.”

“Well, most dreams don’t come true on their own. You have to make them true,” Sharkboy says. “It takes a lot of work. Not easy. But it’s not impossible either.”

“Alright, we’ve had enough sweets, go to sleep,” Lavagirl huffs, joining them.

“I’ll try,” Cady says anxiously, laying down on the granola ground. Sharkboy gently plays with her hair to help her drift off while Lavagirl paces around.

Flowers begin to bloom around them as Cady dreams, and a shark-shaped motorcycle suddenly drives up. Sharkboy gasps excitedly and runs to check it out, so Lavagirl takes over his position by Cady’s head.

“Dream about me next,” she says quietly. “I need to know who I am. Dream of me as something good.”

A clap of thunder suddenly booms overhead, making Lavagirl whirl around. She looks back to Cady’s face and finds it pinched in concern. “She’s having a nightmare. Sharkboy, get back here!”

Sharkboy runs over and tries to shake Cady back awake, to no avail. Lavagirl stands and aims her hands carefully at Cady’s backside.

“Sorry Cady,” she murmurs, firing a jet of lava.

“Jesus!” Cady yells, her eyes snapping open as she leaps to her feet. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“You weren’t waking up,” Lavagirl shrugs sheepishly. Sharkboy kindly fires a jet of water to help cool her off. “Thanks Sharky. Cady… your nightmare… it was about me, wasn’t it?”

Cady tries to think. Surely that can’t be right. She can see bits and pieces, but can’t quite reach them enough to put them back together. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”

“Plug hounds!” Sharkboy suddenly yells, pointing to an ice cream hill above them. Neverbury makes her way to the top.

“I have the high ground!”

The hounds suddenly run towards them, stumbling down the hill. Cady and her friends run to the shark bike, but nothing happens when Sharkboy attempts to start the engine. Other than…

“Ah, fudge,” Cady says. “I forgot to dream of gas.”

“Oh my-“ Lavagirl says angrily, storming off in a huff to fight the hounds off. Sharkboy joins her. Lavagirl shoots a jet of lava at one, before she looks at her hands. “My powers are weakening.”

One of the hounds suddenly unravels, wrapping her up in tight confines while a few others zap at her toes. Sharkboy, on the other hand, is doing remarkably well, punching out several with a series of very elaborate karate moves.

He rips off a part to the shark bike to use as a staff, and takes out several more. Unfortunately, he doesn’t notice one that hasn’t quite been beat down rise to its feet, followed by another. They both shock him, causing him to fall to the ground with a pained moan.

“Hey! Leave my friends alone!” Cady yells, bending down and swiping some frosting onto her face like war paint. She’s in the middle of a battle cry when she also gets shocked and falls to the ground. It didn’t quite go to plan, but it did allow Sharkboy to escape his attackers and rush to her side.

“I don’t-I don’t have much fight left in me, Cades,” he pants.

“Where’s Lavagirl?” Cady puffs back. Lavagirl comes… flowing over, so to speak.

“What?” She asks when they both give her confused looks. “How else was I supposed to escape? Oh, don’t look at me like that, I’m literally made of lava. It’s up to you now, Cady.”

“Cady, you can dream us out of here,” Sharkboy realizes. “We believe in you, go on.”

Cady squeezes her eyes shut and tries her hardest to dream. Lavagirl quietly pleads for a lava bike behind her, and Sharkboy asks for a shark boat. Cady opens her eyes to reveal…

“A banana split?” Lavagirl spits. “Seriously?”

“They’re really good!” Cady defends, crossing her arms over her chest protectively.

“Still hungry?” Lavagirl says threateningly, popping back into her human body and holding up a fist. “How about a knuckle sandwich?”

“Lava, chill,” Sharkboy says, batting her hands away from poor Cady’s face. “Look at it, it’s a banana split boat!”

“Then let’s split,” Lavagirl yells as another wave of plug hounds rounds over the hill. Cady helps Sharkboy push it into the milk river and start rowing just before the hounds reach them.

Once they’re steadily drifting down the river and being steered by Lavagirl, Cady and Sharkboy finally get to sit down on a swiss roll bench. “This is great, Cades. You’re starting to daydream. If you can keep this up, they’ll never get us!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! If you learn to dream with your eyes open, you don’t have to be asleep to dream,” Sharkboy explains. “You’ll be able to make anything happen at any time. You’ll be unstoppable.”

“Grool,” Cady says. She freezes suddenly. “I-uh… I meant to say great, and then started to say cool…”

Lavagirl bursts out laughing, a remarkably bright, clean sound. Cady likes it. She smiles back at her before scooping some whipped cream onto a finger to taste it. “Mm!”

“Sugar will give you nightmares,” Lavagirl says, already back to her typical brooding. Cady immediately spits out her mouthful before she swallows any. “How much time, Sharky?”

“Uhm… best not to ask,” Sharkboy says anxiously, checking his radar. “The lair of dreams is across the ocean of ice. We’ll have to travel there on foot. What did you see in your dream, Cady? Anything we can use?”

“I saw an object, shaped like… do you have something I can draw with?” Cady asks. Lavagirl holds up one of her fingers and shrugs.

“Sharky, come steer.”

Sharkboy takes hold of the cherry stem to steer their raft, and Lavagirl offers Cady her hand. Cady takes it gently and aims at one of the ice cream scoops. Lavagirl fires a jet of lava from it, letting Cady steer it around.

“A heart?” She asks, tilting her head when Cady finishes. Her eyes go wide when she puts it together. “The crystalheart!”

“It’s the treasure of the kingdom of ice, it can freeze anything!” Sharkboy says excitedly, coming to join them. The raft spins wildly until Lavagirl leaps to grab the cherry stem to keep steering. “Even time.”

“Wow,” Cady breathes. “I’ve only ever dreamt of freezing a moment in time.”

“And, even better,” Sharkboy says. “The ice kingdom is ruled by the ice princess. She’s said to be the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Lavagirl’s jaw drops open indignantly, and she fires some magma at Sharkboy’s bum.

“Ow! What the hell, man?” Sharkboy pouts, rubbing his sore backside.

“She is not! She’s cold and cruel and cares for nobody but herself! And you don’t even like girls,” Lavagirl accuses.

“Cady does!”

“I do?” Cady says in shock. She thinks for a second about her past crushes, and then shrugs. Lavagirl certainly doesn’t look too bad. “Eh, yeah, I probably do. Have you met her, Lavagirl?”

“No,” Lavagirl replies sheepishly. She puffs out her chest before continuing, “But I know we don’t get along! She’s ice. I’m fire. We must be enemies.”

“We need that crystal heart,” Cady says pleadingly. “But I’ll need you both to get it.”

Lavagirl sighs and lets go of the cherry stem. Sharkboy leaps to grab it so they don’t drift away too far. Lavagirl looks out off the edge of the raft and huffs. “I just hope this isn’t a trap.”

—————-

“Wow,” Cady breathes happily, looking around at all the beautiful crystal clear ice and powdery white snow surrounding them. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and clearly very intricate, but the air is barely chilly. Even in her thin flannel, Cady isn’t cold.

They approach a thin bridge, made of solid ice. Cady is a little apprehensive at the height, but carefully steps out onto it. Sharkboy follows. Lavagirl thinks about it, but pauses and hunches in on herself a bit just before she tries.

“I can’t go with you,” she calls. Cady and Sharkboy pause and turn around. “I’ll melt the bridge.”

“Can you chill enough to get across?” Cady asks, reaching a hand for her. Lavagirl looks at her feet, then back at her.

“I’d have to be asleep.”

“Try sleepwalking!” Cady calls to her. “You can do it!”

Lavagirl nods slightly and closes her eyes, shaking out some of the tension in her muscles before warily taking a few steps forward. She mumbles under her breath about… a dream of her own. To live on Earth. Someplace warm. And to be accepted.

“Oh no,” Sharkboy says suddenly, anxiously watching his best friend as she crosses the bridge. “No, Lava, don’t sneeze!”

He runs to block her nose with a finger, and breathes a sigh of relief when she relaxes again. He carefully removes his finger and takes a small step back.

“Achoo!”

Lavagirl sneezes, unleashing a rush of hot wind that blows Sharkboy backwards and off the bridge. He grabs onto it with one hand just before he topples all the way off to a certain doom. Cady runs to help him back up.

“Look,” she says quietly, gesturing to Lavagirl. She’s somehow still upright, but deeply asleep. She’s actually snoring quietly, which is remarkably cute. “She’s sleeping.”

Lavagirl sleepwalks towards them carefully, slowly, but isn’t melting the bridge. Cady watches her with a small smile. Until she looks behind her.

“They found us again,” Cady says, her heart sinking. “Lavagirl, behind yo-“

Sharkboy claps a hand over her mouth before she can finish her sentence. “If you wake her up, she’ll reheat. She can make it.”

Cady nods and clings to his arm in fright. “Come on, Lava.”

Sharkboy holds her back, feeling himself growing more tense. They’re all in danger, and his instincts are demanding he protect his best friend. “Lavagirl, they’re behind you!”

Cady frantically slams a hand over his mouth, and he covers it with his own hands in shame. But it’s too late. Lavagirl opens her eyes and looks behind her, bursting into flame when she sees the hounds closing in.

Cady and Sharkboy both scream in fright and run away, barreling for the other end of the bridge. Lavagirl follows them, the bridge melting and crumbling away beneath her feet as she goes.

“Come on, Lava, hurry!” Sharkboy yells. He and Cady both reach out to help her make it onto the platform holding up the castle, but yelp and quickly pull away as she burns them. They made it.

But the ground beneath them begins to crumble. The three of them whirl around.

“It’s a trap!” Cady yelps, instinctively shoving her friends behind her. A small pit suddenly forms from the ground that’s crumbled away, and Neverbury leaps out at them. Cady furrows her brow in thought. “This can’t be right. Someone-someone else’s dreams are in here.”

That’s the last thought she has before the world goes black.

—-

When she comes to, she’s suspended from the ceiling by a spring over a hole in the ground. Sharkboy is also hanging next to her, and Lavagirl is on the other side with her feet stuck in a block of solid ice.

“Welcome to the dream lair,” an ominous voice says. Ominous but… familiar, somehow. “I am the leader of this planet.”

“No you’re not!” Sharkboy yells, wriggling to try and get down. “Cady is!”

“Cady might have dreamed it originally,” the voice says with an airy titter. The large chair in front of them suddenly rotates to reveal none other than Regina George. “But I’m, like, so much cooler, wouldn’t you say? I… am Requiem.”

“How did you get so much power here?” Cady asks. “This is my world.”

Requiem pulls out a small book and holds it up to show them. Cady gasps in understanding.

“My dream journal! That’s why all my dreams are going wrong! You’re changing it!”

Requiem gives a quiet chuckle and sashays her way down in front of them. Sharkboy gasps and goes into a sort of Superman pose when he spies the tank of electric eels beneath them.

“Shocking, isn’t it Sharkboy?” Requiem hums. “Reminds me of… when an electrical storm blew apart your mother’s research lab.”

Sharkboy stops struggling for a moment and looks at her. “Where is my mother?”

Requiem flips through the journal to see if it says anything, and gives a particularly evil sounding chuckle when she finds the right page. “Check the bottom of the ocean.”

Sharkboy snarls at her and tries to get loose again. Requiem moves to Lavagirl. “And you. Once I figure out how to freeze the core of this planet, all your powers will disappear.”

“I have powers?” Lavagirl asks quietly. “What powers?”

Requiem doesn’t grace her with a response, walking to stand in front of Cady. “And last, but least. You. You thought you could escape fear by running to dreamland, hm? But fear exists in the one place you can never escape.” She hops a few times, and is suddenly floating at Cady’s eye level. “Your mind. I’ll show you the true meaning of fear.

“Anyway, for now, you must all leave. I have dreaming to do. Kisses!”

She blows them a mocking kiss with two fingers before they’re dropped, plummeting through the holes beneath them. Sigmund Freud would love it here, Cady thinks to herself.

——————

They land in a large bird cage. Lavagirl paces back and forth while Sharkboy sits next to Cady on the uncomfortable bricks they have for chairs. “If only I had my journal. Then I could turn everything back to the way it was.”

“My fire is dimming,” Lavagirl says quietly. Sharkboy looks at her sadly. He grabs one of the bars behind him and pulls as hard as he can. Nothing happens.

“My strength is fading too.”

“How much time is left?” Cady asks.

“Who cares?” Lavagirl huffs. “We’re never getting out of here.”

Cady frowns at her, but looks up in confusion when a quiet song can be heard. “That’s freaky.”

“Aww, hi La-La’s,” Sharkboy says, playing with the small bubble creatures. Lavagirl bats them away from her face angrily.

“Where did these come from? They’re so annoying.”

“Don’t listen to her, she’s just mad you’re not made of fire,” Sharkboy comforts the little things.

“They piss me off,” Lavagirl grumbles. “That song. Disturbing. It’s so high!”

“Sing louder. Higher,” Cady encourages them quietly. Lavagirl’s hair is on fire again, and she’s visibly tense. Sharkboy grabs her and pulls her close.

“You don’t want to be too close to her when she erupts,” he says quietly.

“Enough!” Lavagirl yells, firing lava out of both hands at as many La-La’s as she can reach. Inadvertently, she also melts them a way out.

“Nice progress, Lava! Much more control this time,” Sharkboy praises. Lavagirl grins at him sarcastically before she crawls out of the hole she’s made. Sharkboy and Cady follow quickly.

—————

“She’s asleep,” Lavagirl whispers to her friends beneath her. Cady crawls her way back up into the dream lair and tiptoes back over to Requiem. Ever so gently, Cady lifts her journal off of Requiem’s chest. She tiptoes back to her friends, and slides down the pillar holding the lair aloft.

“Okay, first things first,” Cady says, flipping through the pages. “A way out of here.” Suddenly, she finds the perfect page. “Oh, Lavagirl! You have a lava bike!”

“I do?” Lavagirl asks. The bike suddenly materializes next to her and she gives a delighted cackle. “I do!” She eagerly gets on and revs the engine. “Hehe, this is tits!”

“Chill out, babes,” Sharkboy chuckles.

“Even has fuel this time! Now, Sharkboy,” Cady continues, flicking through to another page. She quiets when she reads the first few sentences of it. “Your mother really is at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Oh,” he says quietly. Lavagirl takes his hand and squeezes it gently.

“She’s in a submarine, she’s looking for you! She has been since the storm,” Cady continues, looking up at him with a smile.

“Oh!” He says again. Lavagirl squeezes him one more time and smiles at him too. Sharkboy comes to read over her shoulder to figure out specifics of where it is. “I’ve gotta get back to Earth.”

“What does it say about me?” Lavagirl asks quietly. Cady flicks to yet another page.

“I’m not sure what this is.”

“I can figure it out!” Lavagirl replies, climbing off her bike and running over to them.

“Lavagirl, no, you’ll-“ Cady tries to warn, but it’s too late. Lavagirl grabs the book and turns it to ash. “Burn it.”

Lavagirl stares at her hands in shame. “What have I done?”

“Hey, it’s okay-“

“Why the fuck did you make me out of lava? Why? What fucking good am I?” Lavagirl yells, holding up glowing fists and with her hair on fire yet again. “Look at me! Why, Cady?!”

Cady looks at her sadly, and tries to follow as she storms off, but Sharkboy grabs her shoulder and pulls her back. “Let her cool off a little.”

Cady doesn’t listen, running over to where Lavagirl is sitting on a rock, head in her hands. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be good. I know I can be. I-I can feel it. But I destroy everything I touch.” She turns to Cady with tears in her eyes, boiling away into steam the second they touch her cheeks. “Why-why did you make me like this? I have-I have more potential.”

“I’m sure you do,” Cady says quietly. Lavagirl stands suddenly and turns around to see her.

“And why did you make us a team?” She continues, pointing to Sharkboy. “We’re nothing alike! I fizzle out when I touch water. When he’s near heat, he shrivels. We aren’t compatible!”

“You’re… really on fire,” Cady murmurs sheepishly.

“Yeah. I do that,” Lavagirl huffs. Sharkboy shoots some water at her to put her out. “Thanks, Sharky.” Sharkboy nods.

“No problem.”

“Maybe I really am evil. So far, everything sure looks that way,” Lavagirl murmurs, sitting down again. “Everything else you’ve dreamed has been right. Maybe I do need to learn to accept it.”

“That’s it!” Cady says. “Everything else I’ve dreamt has been right, the crystal heart!”

“We were captured last time,” Lavagirl sniffles.

“Because Requiem doesn’t want me to have it! That must mean it’s important, we must be able to use it to stop her!”

Lavagirl’s face suddenly splits into a wide smile, and she rejoins her companions.

“We have to get back to the ice kingdom!”

“We only have ten minutes left,” Sharkboy says. “We’ll never make it!”

“We can do it!” Cady yells, running off.

“How?!” Sharkboy and Lavagirl yell at the same time as they follow her.

Cady freezes in her tracks and turns back to look at them with a small smirk. “You’re Sharkboy and Lavagirl. You can do anything.”

—————

“This way,” Cady says, beckoning Sharkboy and Lavagirl over to a sort of slide into the ice palace.

“You had to pick ice?” Lavagirl grumbles.

“Hey, Kenya is really hot,” Cady defends. “Not my fault that’s where I wound up. I’m sure if my parents were studying penguins we’d be somewhere hot and you’d be having a better time right now.”

Lavagirl just crosses her arms and pouts. She’s remarkably precious, for a girl made of fire. Cady chuckles before turning back around, stopping just in time to avoid crashing face first into a tall ice pillar. Sharkboy is already looking up at the large heart shaped crystal floating above it.

“Is that what you saw, Cades?”

“Uhhuh,” Cady nods. “You’ll have to climb up there and get it. But it’s as delicate as a snowflake, so don’t drop it. And don’t touch it or you’ll freeze, use your claws.”

“Got it,” Sharkboy says, using his claws as a sort of ice pick to climb up the ice pillar. He makes it rapidly up the tower, but as he’s reaching for it, he loses his grip and slides back down. He ends up dangling from his fin a few feet off the ground. “You’re up.”

“Lava, can-“ Cady asks. Lavagirl raises an eyebrow at her. “Er… nevermind. Chew on some ice, it’ll help you cool off a bit.”

Lavagirl looks confused when Cady hands her a chunk of ice, but gnaws a bit off with her molars. “Hmm.”

Sharkboy removes his claw gloves and hands them to Cady to climb the pillar herself. It’s slower going for her, but she finds enough hand and footholds to make it to the top. Carefully, she puts on the gloves and reaches out.

“Hey, nice job, Cady!” Sharkboy calls up at her when she grabs it. Just then, he slips, and the crack caused by his fin splits the whole tower in two. It crumbles beneath Cady and she’s forced to drop the heart to save herself.

“I got it!” Lavagirl yells, lunging to grab it before it can hit the ground. She makes it, but is immediately frozen into a solid block of ice.

“Lavagirl!” Cady yells, sliding down what she has left to hold and helping Sharkboy out. She knocks carefully on Lavagirl’s forehead. “She’s frozen solid.”

Just then, a creaky rumbling echoes throughout the cavern as several ice golems rise from the ground and come to life. One with a large club looms over them threateningly and escorts them to a different room.

Once they arrive, they’re roughly shoved to the ground with a command to, “Kneel before the ice princesses.”

Princesses? Cady thinks. There’s more than one?

Sure enough, two girls in white dresses come out onto what appears to be a small stage, hand in hand. They look familiar too. An uncanny resemblance to Regina’s little minions back on Earth.

“You try to steal our crystal heart,” the one on the left asks gently. “Why?”

Cady is too distracted staring at the both of them to hear her. Why are they here? Sharboy nudges her gently to get her back into the moment. “Oh! Uh, we believe it can stop time. Long enough for us to defeat Requiem.”

“Our crystal heart cannot help you,” the other one says. “Only the two of us have the power to use it.”

“Then you can come with us!” Cady says.

“They cannot leave this castle. The crystal is the only thing that protects our kingdom,” one of the ice golems says.

“Please, princesses, we’re running out of time,” Cady begs.

“Perhaps we could… give it to you?” The first princess says. “But are you worthy to wield it?”

“I think so!” Cady chirps. “I hope so.”

“The crystal you stole was a decoy,” the second one says. A rumbling noise sounds off behind them, and several more ice pillars rise from the ground. “The real one is somewhere in this room. Choose the correct one, and you may take it with you.”

Cady and Sharkboy both turn around and look at all the crystal hearts glimmering above them. Sharkboy points to the one nearest them. “That one looks nice, pick that one.”

But Cady shakes her head and turns back to the princesses. “It’s around your hands. Tying you together.”

Sure enough, the gem dangling from what Cady originally thought to be a simple bracelet gives a magical glimmer, and the princesses give her a kind smile. She heads to stand before them politely.

“How’d you know?” Sharkboy asks in awe.

“Saw it in a dream,” Cady murmurs.

“Be aware, Cady,” the first princess says, more serious this time. They gently remove the necklace they had looped around their entwined hands and rest it in the palm of Cady’s. “If anything happens to the crystal heart, our entire kingdom will be destroyed.”

“I won’t let anything happen to it,” Cady says bravely. “I promise.”

“The crystal will now work, but we must stay here,” the second one says. “Good luck.”

And with that, they’re all tossed from the palace onto the frozen sea of confusion. Sharkboy and Cady have no choice but to push a still-frozen Lavagirl to their destination themselves.

—-

“We’re almost back to the dream lair!” Cady yells when she has it in her sights. “How much time do we have?!”

“Uh… we’re out of time!” Sharkboy yells back. “Ten seconds!”

Cady stops Lavagirl and hops off, standing on the frozen sea. She holds the crystal heart aloft. “Here goes nothing.”

The crystal gives a promising glimmer, but then… everything goes dark. Including the crystal.

“What happened?”

Sharkboy shrugs. “It didn’t work.”

“How could it not work?”

Suddenly, a crunching noise can be heard as Lavagirl finally frees herself from her ice cocoon. “Only the ice princesses can use it. I was trying to tell you.”

“There’s nothing,” Sharkboy says, staring at his shark radar. “No readings, no nothing.”

Suddenly, a small crack forms in the ice, revealing a melted chasm. Neverbury’s cackling laughter can be heard.

“Sharkboy, no!” Lavagirl says. “She’s baiting you.”

Sharkboy tenses, and clenches his jaw. “I can’t… resist my instincts!”

Before either of them can react, stop him, Sharkboy dives into the water in front of them and swims rapidly to the other side. Neverbury stands ominously above him. Sharkboy tilts his head in confusion as she tries to make a poorly timed electrical joke.

“Oh, fuck it,” Neverbury huffs. “Electric eels, eat up.”

“Sharky, no!” Lavagirl yells, lunging for him. Cady grabs her to hold her back. “Swim away! Run!”

Sharkboy tries, swimming as fast as he possibly can. But the eels are faster, and quickly surround him. Cady and Lavagirl watch in horror as he suddenly goes limp and sinks to the bottom.

“No!” Cady says, trying to touch the water. It’s still electrified, the current nearly melting off the rubber sole of her shoe. “Can-can he survive down there?”

“He can hold his breath,” Lavagirl replies, staring hollowly at the water. “But not forever. He’ll drown if I don’t save him.”

“No, I can’t let you go,” Cady says with a sob, clinging to her arm. “You’ll die too.”

Lavagirl turns to look at her, gently cupping her cheek with a warm hand and kissing her. She pulls away before Cady has time to process what’s happening. “He’s my best friend. I have to. We love you.”

With that, she turns back and dives into the water, swimming down to Sharkboy on the sea floor. Cady watches as she grabs him by a hand and hauls him back up to the surface. Cady helps lift them both back onto the shore.

“Sharkboy?” Cady asks frantically, trying to shake him awake. “Wake up, please! Come on, please, please please.”

She’s so distracted with Sharkboy that she doesn’t notice Lavagirl crawling away from the water before collapsing. She’s not breathing, and her fire has been extinguished.

Cady whirls around when she hears a rattling breath, and finds Lavagirl’s lifeless form. “No, no, no, Lavagirl, please! Not both of you!”

Neither of them wake. Cady frantically shakes them, crying harder than she thinks she ever has, but to no avail.

“I can’t do this without you!” She sobs. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Suddenly, the disembodied face and voice of Tobor appears. “What do you think you should do, child?”

“Dr-dream… a better dream,” Cady whimpers, holding the lifeless hands of both her friends.

“Interesting,” Tobor says kindly. “Explain.”

“I wanted all my dreams to come true,” Cady sniffles. “But… I only dreamed for myself. This whole place only exists because I wanted to escape my real world. But I should’ve dreamed to make my real world a better place. Selfish dreams shouldn’t come true.”

“You’re becoming a very good dreamer, Cady,” Tobor says. “You always were, monkey. Get it back.”

“What do you do?” Cady asks hollowly. “When your dreams have been destroyed?”

“Dream a better dream,” Tobor replies. “An unselfish dream. You can do it. I believe in you, monkey.”

“I love you,” Cady says as Tobor floats away. She never thought she’d hear her brother call her ‘monkey’ again. She needs to say it. Tobor winks at her, and then he’s out of sight.

Cady takes a deep breath, and squeezes both of the hands in her own. “Dream a better dream.”

Sharkboy suddenly snaps awake next to her, coughing some water out of his lungs. Cady tips him onto his side and pats his back to help. He looks at her thankfully before crawling over to Lavagirl.

“She knew this would happen,” Cady murmurs. “If she saved you. I couldn’t stop her.”

Sharkboy nods sadly, taking Lavagirl’s hand. It’s cool to the touch, for the first time since their creation. Suddenly, a bright light is visible from behind them. Sharkboy and Cady turn around to see Lavagirl’s volcano home glowing brightly.

“Lava,” Cady breathes. “We have to get her there.”

“I’ll go,” Sharkboy says. Cady grabs his arm to stop him. “I’m stronger, and faster.”

“No, I can’t let you go again. You’ll burn up,” she says desperately.

Sharkboy doesn’t listen, cradling Lavagirl’s body in his arms. “Are you sure this will save her?”

“It’ll do more than save her,” Cady agrees quietly. They have a stronger bond than they’ll ever have with her. She knows she can’t stop him now. She blinks, and Sharkboy is gone. She can faintly see a blue and pink blur running at inhuman speeds towards the volcano. Cady hunches in on herself and says a little prayer.

“I know who you are now, Lavagirl. You are not fire, or a simple flame. You are greater than that. Something more important, and so necessary. That is why you have to live. You are not destruction. You are not evil.”

Cady winces as she sees Sharkboy chuck Lavagirl into the mouth of the volcano, and watches in horror as he’s thrown back by the force of the eruption once she makes contact.

But then, she sees Lavagirl standing where he just was, and watches her hands suddenly glow bright like beacons.

“You are light.”

Cady closes her eyes as a bright glow rushes over her. Lavagirl has realized her true power. And so has Cady.

“Holy shit!” Sharkboy screams when she suddenly appears beside him. He holds a hand over his heart as he tries to get his breath back. “How-how did you get here so quick?”

Cady doesn’t answer that. “Hold off Neverbury. I’m off to deal with Requiem.”

“I’ll need my fish army,” Sharkboy says. Cady turns to look at the frozen ocean they were just on.

“I’ll unfreeze the ocean.” With a snap of her fingers, it’s done. “Good luck. I love you both.”

“I’ve become what you feared most,” Cady murmurs to Requiem’s turned back. “Requiem.”

Requiem whirls around in surprise. “How’d you get in here?”

“I’m the day dreamer,” Cady replies. “Able to dream with my eyes open.”

“Hate to burst your bubble here, dream girl, but I’ve read your little book,” Requiem says. “There’s not one dream you have that I haven’t already seen. So what do you say? Let’s blow the roof off this place.” She raises her arms, and suddenly they’re on what appears to be a battlefield. “May the best dream win.”

She sticks out a hand towards Cady, releasing a wave of piranhas. Cady winds up and sticks out her own hand, releasing a wave of…

“Bubbles? Come on,” she whispers. But, as the bubbles make contact with the chomping fish, they’re suddenly trapped inside and carried off with the wind. “Oh. I guess that worked.”

She winds up again, and blows a wave of butterflies towards Requiem. Requiem unleashes her own swarm of wasps.

“Wait!” Cady yells. All the bugs suddenly disappear. She puts a finger to her temple and closes her eyes. “Brain storm.”

Requiem looks at her in confusion before she puts the pieces together and looks up in horror. “Eww!”

Brains splat down to the ground all around her, and she puts her arms up to protect her head from the falling craniums. She screams when one lands in her hands and throws it as far as she can, wiping off the fluid on her cape.

“Brain… freeze!” She yells, lifting her arms to the sky. All the brains raining down pause in place before landing in the ground in a single sheet.

“Brain.. fart,” Cady replies with a giggle. Requiem’s head suddenly swells to roughly one hundred times the size it’s meant to be, and she leans from side to side in a ditch attempt to keep her balance. Before she knows it, she’s completely upside down resting on top of her hand. “Nice headstand!”

Requiem’s head deflates, and she lands back on her feet. She looks at Cady and gives her a quiet chuckle. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

Cady watches in horror as she moves her hands down her sides in a quick motion, and suddenly rockets off into the sky on a stone tower. Cady repeats the motion and rises to the same height on a pillar of her own.

“I used to be,” she says quietly. “But now I understand. Someone ruined your dreams, and now all you can do is ruin everyone else’s.”

Requiem scowls at her, and sends her tower even higher. Cady follows again. The air is getting a bit thin up here. Hopefully she won’t have to go any higher.

“We can create a better dream than this,” Cady pleads. “A better world. Don’t you see?” She snaps her fingers, and a makeshift bridge suddenly appears between each of their towers. Cady carefully walks halfway across it and reaches out a hand. “What do you say? Regina?”

Regina looks at her in shock for a moment, but slowly joins her on the bridge. She looks at her own hand, before inching it toward’s Cady’s.

Just before they touch, a creaking can be heard and the bridge gives way beneath them. Cady uses her day dreamer powers to sort of float, rushing quickly after Regina.

“Don’t let me fall!” Regina screams, covering her face so as not to see her rapidly approaching doom. Cady grabs her wrist and floats them gently to the dream lair.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Don’t ruin people’s dreams, Regina. Because you ruin your own, too. And then you’ll stop believing.”

Cady is suddenly tackled to the soft ground from behind. She screams, but looks up just in time to see Lavagirl before their lips are slammed together. Her warmth is back.

“Cady,” Lavagirl whispers against her lips. “I am light. Thank you.”

“You always were,” Cady replies, holding Lavagirl’s hips as she straddles her. “Nothing to do with me.”

Lavagirl kisses her again. “But now I know. So thank you.”

“Big deal,” Sharkboy teases. “The real news is what I am!”

“A pain in the ass?” Lavagirl asks, finally standing and helping Cady up.

“I’m king of the ocean!”

Cady giggles at their bickering.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for saving me,” Lavagirl says quietly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. There’s a quiet sizzle and flash of light when she makes contact.

“Ouch,” Sharkboy says, rubbing his cheek. At least he’s smiling.

“Everything will return to the way it was,” Regina says from behind them, joining the conversation. “You will be able to travel to Earth and back again as you wish.” She gestures to Sharkboy. “You can search for your mother.” To Lavagirl. “You can rule Earth’s lava realm.”

“And just what am I supposed to do?” Neverbury asks, appearing out of nowhere. “Now that you’re all… buddy buddy.”

“You can go back to being the good guardian of the planet,” Regina replies.

Neverbury cackles. “Oh, really? Keeping everything running? Making sure this loud, obnoxious world is a happy place?”

“Hey!” Cady says sadly.

“You’re dreaming.” Neverbury chuckles.

“I dreamt you,” Cady says boldly, letting go of Lavagirl’s hand and puffing out her chest at Neverbury. “And I can un-dream you.”

“You think you can just snap your eyes open and make me vanish?” Neverbury threatens. “Not so easy. I am the danger of dreaming. For every person who dreams up the lightbulb, there’s the one who dreams up the atom bomb. This is one dream you won’t be waking up from. I’m gonna put an end to this ridiculous tangent at it’s source.”

With that, she takes off towards Earth. Cady yelps and leaps out of the way. “Where did she go?”

“She’s headed to Earth,” Sharkboy says, tracking her on his radar.

“She’s going to try to destroy you in your sleep,” Regina says.

“In my sleep?” Cady asks quietly. “You mean I’m asleep?! All this time I’ve been asleep?!”

“No,” Lavagirl says calmly, coming over to her. “You’re dreaming, Cady.”

“With your eyes open,” Sharkboy adds.

“Make the dream real,” Lavagirl says, taking her hand again. “And you can live out your dreams on Earth. Just like you made us real.”

“Make it real,” Sharkboy commands gently. “You can do it.”

“Blink three times,” Lavagirl murmurs, gently cupping Cady’s face in her hot hands. “One.”

Cady listens. “Wait, but-“

“Two,” Sharkboy says. Cady blinks again.

“Will I ever see you again?”

Lavagirl kisses her one more time before letting her go. “Three.”

Cady blinks.

——

When she opens her eyes, she’s back on Earth, huddled under her desk in the science room. The teacher is trying to gather everyone to head to shelter from the storm, with the help of Ms. Norbury.

Ms. Norbury lifts the desk off of Cady. “Cady, get up! There’s a tornado heading our way!”

Cady scrambles to her feet and dusts herself off. “It’s not a tornado!” She yells over the gusts of the wind. “It’s worse!”

“Regina, wake up,” Ms. Norbury commands, tapping Regina at her desk. Regina snaps awake and winces at the large puddle of drool coating her desk. Gross.

Cady leads them to the gaping hole in the wall, created by Sharkboy and Lavagirl. That was a mere moment ago, but it feels like years. “Look!”

The tornado barreling towards them suddenly begins sparking, and Neverbury emerges from the cyclone before it dissipates into a simple thunderstorm.

“It’s Ms. Neverbury, from planet Drool! The one from my dreams!” Cady explains.

Ms. Norbury and the science teacher both look at it in confusion. “You mean… this is real? Your dreams are real?”

“Some dreams are so powerful they become real,” Cady says.

“I don’t believe it,” Ms. Norbury says.

“It’s literally right there!” Cady yells.

“No, yeah, I can see that!” Norbury replies. “What I can’t believe is… you dreamt me! As a big, round bad guy!”

“Sorry!” Cady says. “Kinda took on a life of its own!”

Ms. Norbury sighs before turning to the class, watching in horror as the storms grow again and Neverbury looms ominously just outside.

“Okay class, we’re just teachers,” Cady’s science teacher says. “And we are here to inspire the answers in you! And there’s some damn good inspiration outside. So, this is now a pop quiz. We need to defeat that lady! Any ideas?!”

Regina raises her hand, surprising everyone.

“Wow, Regina. Yes?”

“I can take her,” Regina says boldly, running outside.

“No, you can’t!” Cady yells, grabbing her hand and pulling her back in. “Not by yourself. We need another idea.”

“No dumb ideas, come on,” Ms. Norbury says.

“Maybe we can freeze her circuits,” Regina suggests.

“That’s literally the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Ms. Norbury replies. “We’re in Illinois in August. Next?”

“No, that might work!” Cady says. “Regina, where are your friends?”

“Gretchen and Karen?”

“Yeah, where are they?”

“Uh… English, I think?” Regina says with a shrug.

“Then come on!” Cady yells, grabbing her hand and hauling her out the door. The English wing is on the other side of the school.

“I am in heels!” Regina yells.

“Take them off, then! This is kind of an emergency!” Cady yells back, breaking ahead. Regina pauses to snatch her shoes off before barreling after her.

The teacher looks up in shock as a very disheveled Cady and Regina suddenly slam the door open. Cady points at them and pants, “We need… Gretchen and… and Karen.”

They already seem to have known this was coming, and stand to join them. Regina says, “Take off your shoes now, save yourselves. Just come on.”

When they make it back to the science room, Cady reaches into her pocket.

“Those jeans are horrific, by the way,” Regina says. Cady waves her off as she pulls out the crystal heart.

“Is this yours?” Cady asks, holding it up to show Gretchen and Karen. They both look at it and each other in shock.

“I’ve only seen it in my dreams,” Karen says quietly, gently running a finger over it.

“Me too,” Gretchen murmurs.

“It can freeze anything,” Cady murmurs, looping it gently around their intertwined hands and fastening it.

“Even time,” they both say at the same time before looking at each other with a small smile.

“Let them out,” Cady commands. Everyone parts like the Red Sea to make way for them to get outside. “Do you know what to do?”

“Yes,” they say. “Stand back.”

Cady watches with a smile as they approach Neverbury casually and each hold up a hand. They still hold each other with one, and fire a beam of ice at Neverbury with the other. Neverbury freezes solid, and then shatters. Snow begins to fall around them.

Everyone cheers and runs outside to play in the magical snow, except for Cady.

“You’ve made me a great teacher today, Cady,” Ms. Norbury says.

“How did I do that?” Cady asks. “I punched a hole in the school.”

“A good teacher learns as much from her students as they learn from her,” Ms. Norbury explains. “You’ve awakened something in me. That being said, I’m going to start looking into a different career.”

“I don’t blame you,” Cady chuckles, before Ms. Norbury pushes her outside to join her peers. Cady heads out aimlessly, not really knowing who to join. Until she sees Sharkboy and Lavagirl standing with her parents. “Sharkboy! Lavagirl!”

“Hey!” They both say. Lavagirl catches Cady as she barrels into her and slams their lips together.

“Oh, um…” Cady says sheepishly when they break apart. “Mom, Dad, I’m bi.”

“After today, we’re just glad you’re alive,” her dad chuckles, ruffling her hair. Cady throws her arms around both of them, and smiles as they squeeze her tightly. They feel like a family for the first time in years.

—————-

epilogue

“The following story is true,” Cady begins. “It may have began as a dream, but as we all saw last month, when you let your dreams become reality, reality becomes a dream.

“Sharkboy and Lavagirl both live here now. Sharkboy rules the ocean as king, and is searching for his mother. He says his instincts tell him he’s getting closer every second, so he’ll find her soon. And Lavagirl lives with me. We just have to keep the heat on max.”

That gets a chuckle from everyone.

“She gets to live her dream too, don’t worry. She rules all of Earth’s volcanos, a source of light and life for all of us. Just from a distance. So… so she can be with me. My advice to you all is… dream your best dreams. Then work to make them real.”

The end.

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hope you enjoyed!

I'm sorry it wasn't the most romantic, but i did my best to make it fit with the story. we'll be back on earth next week :))

thanks for reading!

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #space safari #paint by numbers #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #damian hubbard #janis sarkisian #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls the musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls on broadway #regina george #gretchen wieners #karen smith

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