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misslavenderlady · 9 months

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I'm here with some questions about our girl Bree~!!!

How did she find out they were vamps in the first place? I mean, did she figure most of it put on her own, or did the boys show their true side to her?

And what are the Frogs + Sammy's thoughts on her? If the Frogs know her at least. 👀

CHERRYYYYYY!! This is my first ever ask about Bree!!! I'm so excited! Rest assured, I will have an actual side blog up for her soon but in the meantime I am more than happy to answer any questions about her here

🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

So Bree is a registered nurse, meaning she has plenty of medical knowledge from her studies and experience. It's easy for her to figure out when something is wrong. She met the boys the first night they ever popped into the doctors office she works at. David asked for her to examine his wrist because he crashed his bike while doing a stunt (a little callback to the injury kiefer got before they started filming)

Obviously during the exam Bree noticed there was no pulse in his wrist, and feared something was wrong. She tried to listen for his heartbeat with her stethoscope but found nothing. When she excused herself to get another stethoscope and try again, David and the boys had mysteriously vanished.

They returned again another night. She tried to ask questions, but the boys lead her in circles with their mysterious words (that or they just didn't answer her, opting to just giggle playfully). Dwayne, Paul and Marko all got checkups too. Whether it was asking for a flu shot, getting a cough checked or just making up some disease to get her to touch them, they adored playing games. Each time they did, she found something new wrong. The biggest kicker was when she drew blood at David's request, and was shocked to find the blood was glittery and dark.

She fainted from the shock, and was found and cared for by Michael after she woke up. The boys had left by that point.

At first she thought there had to be some logical explanation. She's a bright woman that values science and research. In a way, she was more fascinated than she was horrified. She thought they were all some kind of medical anomaly. Four boys with an unknown illness.

But then the visits started. Or rather, the "dreams" as she thought they were.

Bree would have moments in the dead of night where she'd hear voices whispering to her. Images of the boys in her room, asking if she wanted to be one of them. To know what they were. They told her to turn away from her medical journal and look more to her beloved monster books. When she awoke, she did just that. She poured over all her favorite stories, particularly Dracula and Camilla. Everything began to make a lot more sense.

At the moment, David and the boys have not outright said what they are, as they're biding their time for the right moment (especially with Michael still a part of their game). But there's this unspoken agreement between them and Bree. A bond made by a shared secret. She knows what they are, but she's not frightened. She's interested. Curious. Attracted to them.

She wants to get to know them more, and they feel the same about her~

Since Michael works at the same doctors office, the other Emersons pop in to say hi to both him and Bree. During the summer Sam and the Frogs come by for the school physicals, which are done by Bree. She thinks Sam is a nice kid, but find the Frog brothers a bit odd. They give her cryptic warnings about monsters and that they suspect the return of vampires they once slayed. When she tries to ask Sam about it, he tells her that Michael isn't very comfortable with sharing that story.

To her, the Emersons are just as mysterious as the Lost Boys. Granted, they're very kind and wonderful to be around, but she wishes they would open up to her. She really likes Michael and he likes her. It breaks her heart to see him and his brother struggling with their demons from the past.

Little does she know that such a thing is more literal in the sense.

In the meantime, she's happy to chat with the kids, so long as they behave. She also gives them stickers as a little gift. They claim they're too old for stickers, but secretly love them.

#tlb insert Bree #tlb self insert #the lost boys #lavender lady rambles #asks

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theawkwardterrier · 1 year

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Wednesday 100: Four Thoughts During a Separation

Claire knows that Frank means well, knows that he's trying. Still, she wishes he'd chosen a flat with some green space, somewhere she could sink her hands into the earth. She takes Brianna to the park instead, although it isn't enough.

She is sifting a bit of dirt between her fingers when she hears a spitting sound. Pulling Bree into her lap, she clears her mouth and holds her daughter there.

With no one else to hear, she whispers, "It seems that you and your father have different opinions on the taste of grass," and laughs to keep from crying.

ii.

He dreams sometimes of venturing to the stones, pressing his face there and whispering "I am alive," so they would carry his words through time until Claire and the child appeared. He would bring them home and finally begin the life they nearly and never had too many times.

But then he thinks of Ian arrested over and over for his sake, of Jenny's straining shoulders and Fergus's futile fury and the children learning never to ask for even an extra scrap, and he knows that he could not pull her back, could never doom them too for his selfishness.

iii.

The thought comes the first time that Brianna has a fever, when she goes through a phase of picky eating, when she tells Claire, "I don’t love you anymore" with more vehemence than Claire thought a child could hold, especially her daughter.

Each time, she closes her eyes and thinks to herself, I don't know how to do this. And then, although Frank is there each day, although he has been better than she ever might have expected, she thinks, We were supposed to learn to do this together, Jamie Fraser, her anger and heartbreak calcifying over everything lost.

iv.

There was so much that he knew he would never forget about Claire, but he hadn't realized that he would remember this: herblore murmured over books or transcribed to her notes, treatments demonstrated to one of her nurses or pointedly mentioned to an impatient Fergus, the exhausted "...make the comfrey ointment tomorrow" muttered against his own neck.

It hurts - the memories, the scents which remind him of her skin - and it does not bring joy, but there is something soothed, just a bit, by the feeling that the ghosts of her hands are guiding his as he heals his men.

#Wednesday100 #Outlander #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Claire/Jamie

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littleperilstories · 1 year

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The Prince of Thieves: I'm Not Lost, This Fate Was Mine to Choose

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03! | Playlist | Story Intro

Warnings: Mention of jail/police, mention of firearms, mention of death, angst

Historically (for a while), the term 'guns' meant artillery and not 'small' firearms like muskets etc. but I used 'guns' in here bc 'small arms' sounds very stilted in dialogue to a modern ear ok byyyeee

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Word count: 1872 || Approx reading time: 8 mins

I'm Not Lost, This Fate Was Mine to Choose

Teaser: “I still can’t believe this is happening.” It’s foolish to speak when the rest of the world is still so quiet; my voice carries through the morning air. Worry twists my gut so ferociously, though, I have to say something to take my mind off it. If I don’t, I might burst.

Bree

Dawn comes too soon, creeping up on us with stealthy, nimble footsteps. One moment, I am curled near the hearth, James Wardrew’s coat thrown over me like a blanket; the next, I’m shambling across the floor and blinking sleep from my eyes, blearily following the smell of just-brewed tea, nursing a deepening sense of horror as I remember exactly why we’re up so early and where we’re going.

And then we’re shivering in the early morning air, skulking through town the long way, two groups approaching the meeting point from different angles—me and Spider together, James and Geoff dragging Hatchett through the woods.

“I still can’t believe this is happening.” It’s foolish to speak when the rest of the world is still so quiet; my voice carries through the morning air. Worry twists my gut so ferociously, though, I have to say something to take my mind off it. If I don’t, I might burst.

I glance up at Spider, waiting for her to shush or glare me into silence, but she simply nods and, after a moment, speaks too. “I hate this.”

Although she and James have found an odd, tenuous peace between the two of them, they’re still tense. Uncomfortable, sharp with each other. I don’t know either of them very well, but I can tell it hurts both of them to be so at odds. She’s been stiff and quiet since the moment it came out that she was there when Will was flogged, which seems to be the source of their conflict, as far as I can tell. Stiff, quiet, and guilty.

You shouldn’t feel so bad. The words have been on the tip of my tongue so many times. Aren’t secrets sometimes for the best? Don’t we all keep them sometimes to avoid hurting others more than necessary?

More than that, though, it’s fucking rich of James Wardrew to be guilting her so heartily about hiding things, because he’s been doing the exact same thing to everyone else.

You got my message, then.

It was impossible to tell from what I overheard what was contained in the message James sent to Hatchett, but I gleaned enough from their muttered conversation: James promised something in an effort to negotiate Will’s release.

A message—a note. The signature was what gave Hatchett the information to start puzzling together Will’s name and identity—all because of me, when I told him, like a goddamn idiot, that if he had the name of one brother, he could find the name of the other.

All Will had to do was say a single word—his surname—that matched a name in Hatchett’s notes, and the game was over.

Despite being on Spider’s case about being secretive, James is keeping it hidden that he sent that letter at all.

I wanted to say something—to him, to Spider, to Geoff.

I’m a coward, though.

Instead, when James stepped outside once he was done talking to Hatchett, and I scrambled away from the door to look as if I were just approaching—and hadn’t had my ear pressed against the wood mere moments before—I said, “I wasn’t throwing myself at anyone.”

Good god, the look he gave me. He didn’t even seem to remember that You were throwing yourself at him like the slut you are was what Hatchett said to send me soaring across the room to slap him across his horrid face.

“Well…that’s good, I suppose?” he said, scratching behind his ear, appearing to gather his patience from a well that was running dry.

I cringe now at the memory. Anything else would have been better than saying that.

Most of all, however, I wish I’d been brave enough to tell him, You don’t get to be mad at her when you’re keeping an even bigger secret from everyone else.

But I held my tongue—once a coward, forever a coward. Hiding from confrontation. Hiding from the truth.

Awaiting a sign that it’s time to move, Spider and I sit in shadow. Tall, luxurious manors loom over us, the lavish structures brimming with silence and, for me, memories of a childhood in a place not much different.

So far, there have been no constables patrolling this area, but no doubt they’re around somewhere.

“I wish…” Her voice trails off, and when she glances at me, I can see what she’s thinking: Perhaps you’re not the right person to talk to about this.

I pull my “borrowed” shawl closer around me—Spider found one somewhere, and though I’ve no idea where it came from, I can guess it wasn’t originally hers—hoping the hurt doesn’t show on my face. I’ve ended up in yet another place where I don’t belong, where I’m not truly wanted. “Wish he wouldn’t go face them himself?”

She nods, her mouth pressed into a grim line. “He’s being a fucking idiot. Reckless. Acting like…”

My throat aches. I know how to finish this sentence for her. “Like Will.”

She agrees, drawing in a long, angry breath.

“They might see his face,” I say. “Or catch him. Arrest him, too.”

“I told him that.”

“They could kill him.”

“I told him that.”

I gulp at the next thought that slips out, one we’ve been dancing around for the last day but have been powerless to do anything about. “What if they have…guns?”

In the prison, where every altercation was at close range, the constables favoured their batons. Now, in the dread-soaked minutes before a meeting that’s as likely to turn into a bloodbath as not, I think of the cracks that broke through the darkness the night I escaped, the salty tang of gunpowder in the air. The machines of death that they could wield today if they wanted. If they really wanted to make sure none of us escaped with our lives.

“It’s likely.”

I shudder. “He doesn’t care?”

Spider takes a long moment to respond. When she does, her voice cracks. “He cares.”

He cares about saving his brother.

But for god’s sake, he can’t die. Seeing him—that was the only thing Will wanted, the only thing he truly cared about. I know that now. If James doesn’t make it out today…

Flicking a dead beetle that’s somehow stuck to her shoe into the dirt, Spider says, “He just keeps saying there’s no one else.”

Somewhere down the street, voices swell. Constables? The early morning bickering of a family? Servants in these enormous, wealthy households making plans for the day, risen so early to perform the jobs for which they are paid mere pennies?

“No one else, what?”

A cold breeze ruffles her dark curls, rustles the layers of her skirt. “No one else who can be the one to meet the constables and make the trade.”

When did they even have this conversation? The hunting cabin is so small, surely I’d have heard it, unless I was asleep. Doesn’t the inner circle ever rest? “That’s bullshit.”

Her mouth twitches. “Mmm hmm. But I think, mostly, he wants to be the one Will sees when the trade goes down.” She falters. Quietens. “And he doesn’t want to risk anyone else getting grabbed or killed.”

He was playing the hero again, you know.

“They’re exactly the same,” I say.

With a sad smile, as if she can tell who I mean even though I didn’t clarify, she says, “I suppose, in some ways, they are.”

I glance away from her, turning my head so I can brush a finger against my eyes. Too many times I’ve burst into tears in front of her and James and Geoff, these last few days. I won’t do it again now.

There’s no one else. The words go around and around my head: persistent, irritating, unyielding. No one else.

If James goes in for the trade, assuming they don’t just shoot him right away, he risks destroying everything he’s worked so hard for—destroying all the good IA has done, possibly forever.

What, again, of his mysterious message? What was in it? What if, when James gets there, the constabulary tries to hold him to whatever he said?

And if he gets arrested or shot or beaten to death…

There’s no one else.

But of course there is. Someone whose face the constables already know.

Someone who has nothing to lose, who has had nothing to lose for a very long time.

When the sun is creeping up the horizon, painting a swath of light across the sky, there’s noise and movement in the distance. Wheels. A terse command or two. And then footsteps—that of heavy, iron-studded boots.

They’re here.

Before James or anyone else can step out from the woods, I slip from my hiding place and walk directly into Junior Constable Michaelson’s line of sight.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Spider’s voice fades as I hurry away from her. I pretend not to notice; I don’t need to hear anything else. This is a terrible idea, I know.

But if it keeps James out of the line of fire long enough to set Will free…

Michaelson stares at me for a long moment, his face purpling. “This must be some ridiculous joke.”

“No.” I want to say something smart, something rude and irreverent, something Will would say. My mind has gone blank.

This man—he cut open my skin and watched me bleed.

He held a knife to my throat.

He whipped me until my back was covered in welts and bruises.

Michaelson’s lip curls, the expression far too Hatchett-like for my comfort. “Well. This is how it goes, then. The little viper returns. Came back for more, did you?”

“Where’s Will?” I do not trust myself to keep conversation with this man. All it took the other day for me to lose control and slap Baden Hatchett across his wicked face was a single word.

I cannot afford to lose my wits today.

“Where’s the constable?”

“You’ll see him soon enough.” I feel naked under his glare, just as I did the first time I stood in his leering gaze. Such a short time ago, and yet it feels like a lifetime.

I am not the same girl as I was that day.

“You’ll see him,” I repeat. There is no need to fear this man, I tell myself. He will not touch me until Hatchett is safe—and Hatchett won’t walk free until Will is out of their clutches. “Not yet. Not until you give back Will.”

I do not need to be afraid, because I have nothing left outside of this moment, this aching body, these clothes I wear that are not even mine. Hatchett knows it, he told me so, and I, too, know he’s right. No family and no friends beyond this family I am now trying so desperately to protect. No one who will miss my wretched, worthless, insignificant life.

If I die today, I’m leaving behind nothing except the deeds I did while living.

So I must make sure those deeds are the right ones, until the end. I must make sure—if I die today—my last act is saving IA. Saving James.

Saving Will.

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Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @gala1981, @kixngiggles .

[Banner ID: A narrow horizontal, rectangular banner featuring a barred archway. The bars and the stone walls evoke the feeling of a dungeon or prison. There are burning candles on either side of the archway. The title of the story, The Prince of Thieves, appears in white text in the centre of the image. The author's username, abbreviated to LPS from littleperilstories, appears in the bottom right corner in partially transparent text. End ID.]

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forestwispocs · 2 years

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[File loading require]

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[File has been accessed]

Welcome back O. . .

B: O, welcome to SOAP, Secure Obtain Advice and Protect, please wait...

"Ah, you're awake was if it long nap? Anyway my name is Ava Inova, it's a pleasure to have you on our team. What we do here is to help those who blotted more than once in their life, we are aware of the past casualties and we are here to make it happen less."

"Here are the facilities you'll be most likely join if you desire."

"The re-teaching facility helps the more aggressive patients, for safety you can carry a tranquilizer if you do feel your life is endanger however it is not needed, your leader Gina prefers no cowards on her team."

"The Welfare facility are the nurses and doctors of the area, the patient health and well being is their top priority, your leader Cera will make sure of it."

"The security facility is one of the hardest, you requirement is to protect the employers from the patient. This group uses heavy forces to make sure the patient passes out and return to their area, Nikolas will make sure you're prepared."

"The extraction facility is also a tedious job, you have to make extraction from the blotted patient so we can understand how they can turn into...well that however all test results came out differently for each patient so we are still unaware the direct result of the cause. Your leader Bree will make sure to find out no matter what."

"The record facility helps keep tabs on the patients who stayed in the facility however there was one incident of one leaving early their name was [ REDACTED], I hope they are doing well because we lost where they went, your leader Hunter is like an encyclopedia of all the patients name."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twistedwonderland #twst ocs #twisted wonderland fanfacility

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renee-writer · 1 year

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June Prompts Chapter 9 Angel

AO3

“You have a lot of angels watching over you.” She whispers to her baby daughter. “Your grandparents, Brian and Ellen, who you were named after and Julia and Henry. Your daddy, no not HIM, your real daddy, Jamie.”

She rocks her close. It is in the middle of the night and Frank sleeps down the hall. It is the only time she is comfortable talking about those she and her daughter, lost.

“You’ve a brother and sister in heaven too, Fergus and Faith.” A teardrop falls on her nursing daughter, “Fergus, Jamie and I adopted in France, Faith was born there, to soon. They all look after you my darling Bree. As well as Murtagh, Mrs. Fitz, Ned, your Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian…”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #june prompts #chapter 9 angel #jamie/ claire/ bree #cannon compliant #outlander fandom

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bree-thelostboys-nurse · 8 months

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((disclaimer: I am not a supporter of AI taking over the hard work and dedication of real life people. We need the work of artists to bring the world of creativity to life, and that is not something that AI can ever take away. Not to mention it shouldn't leave people without a job. I am simply doing this because I do not have digital art tools to do this myself. Thank you))

Nurse Bree here! Happy to help take care of you and put a smile on your face ❤️‍🩹

@chrissiepop @hypocriticaltypwriter @mjtheartist04

#bree the lost nurse #ai art #please don't hate me for using it I just wanted to get a visual of Bree #tlb self insert #the lost boys

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emilynightshade89 · 2 years

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OC Profile:

TW: Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Domestic Violence, and Mentions of Canon Typical Vampire Violence. (Please take care and let me know if i need to add more!)

Fandom: Daybreakers (2009)

Face Claim: Joyce Byers in Stranger Things

Full Name: Wendy Jessamy Conwell McCoy

Nicknames/Aliases: Bones (Given by Elvis affectionately), The Day Rider (Given by the Vamp. military squadron set on her capture and the findings of her human colony)

Age: Mid to Late 40s

Height: 5′ 3 1/2 inch.

Sexuality: Bisexual

Gender: Cis-Gendered Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Religion: None

Personality Type: ISFJ-T “The Defender”

Alignment: Neutral Good

Birth Date: March 21st

Star Sign: Aries

Birthstone: Bloodstone

Clothing Style: Mostly laid-back plaids over tanks and band t-shirts with jeans and boots. Her favorite band tees would consist of: Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Pearl Jam, and more. Typically wears ripped jeans. Will don her military gear for holding supplies and tools over her motorcycle outfit while scouting. A black long sleeved collared jacket, black pants, and sometimes a green parka hoodie for when it gets cold at night. She also wears a helmet that’s tinted so you won’t be able to see her face, but she can see you just fine.

Family Members:

Margaret Conwell McCoy (Mother, Deceased)

Joseph Conwell (Father, Deceased)

Travis McCoy (Stepfather, Deceased)

Jeremy Conwell McCoy (Brother)

Two unnamed nieces

Significant Others:

Laverne Bree (Fiancée, Deceased)

Lionel “Elvis” Cormac (Current Partner, Eventual Spouse)

Children:

Matthew Dillon Cormac (Eventual son)

Platonic Relationships:

Friends ->

Audrey Bennett

Edward Dalton

Gavin Smith (Former leader of Wendy’s Military Squadron, Colony Representative)

Parker Hayes (Military Deserter, Colony Doctor)

Guadalupe Romero (Military Deserter, Colony Electrician)

Levi Chambers (Military Deserter, Colony Emergency Rep.)

Trudy Spier (Jeremy’s girlfriend)

Enemies ->

Hudson Fowler (Vampire Military Squadron Leader)

Pets:

Lisa Marie ~ A brown and white Border Collie shared with her partner Lionel.

Chester ~ An orange Tabby cat, found and gifted to her by Lionel and Ed for her birthday.

Elton ~ A Doberman Pinscher adopted by son Matthew Cormac after Lisa and Chester’s eventual passing.

Hobbies: Riding her motorcycle on patrols, listening to music, Playing the guitar and drums (as a teen), Roller Skating, Archery.

Skills: Close combat with a knife, Gun Handling, Archery, Licensed Nursing.

Childhood:

Oldest daughter of two, Wendy was born to Margaret and Joseph Conwell and was their only daughter and child until she was seven and was given a baby brother named Jeremy. Her mother was a nurse, and her father owned a business that unfortunately had run into some serious legal trouble that took a hard toll on him.

As a result, Wendy’s home life would soon become a rocky one. At the age of twelve, her mother Margaret was working constantly at the hospital while her father Joseph was always away and lost money to gambling and feeding into his alcohol addiction as he claimed he was trying to get money to bring his old business back to life.

In school Wendy had no trouble making friends, but it soon proved difficult to keep them since she was more worried about looking after her baby brother most of the time due to both her parent’s absence at home. She never blamed her mother for it since her work brought food to the table, but she steadily blamed her father for sure since he always came home a drunk with empty pockets

Eventually her father’s temper snapped when he realized Margaret had plans to take the kids and had stashed money away from him to do so. This led to a horrible fight where Wendy was awoken from sleep to the sound of her mother screaming and rushing to find that Joseph had shoved her into her bedside table and had drawn blood. Wendy retaliated in anger and fear by hitting him with an empty beer bottle and her mother managed to chase him out with a bat and call the police.

Margaret was able to safely move Wendy and Jeremy out and filed for divorce that week. They cut ties with Joseph completely despite him reaching out once to borrow money.

Adolescence:

Wendy still had trouble dealing with what she had seen and done and in high school, started drinking to forget and calm herself down. She had a bad friend that would help her get the drinks and eventually Margaret found out about her daughter’s habit and confronted her about it.

This led into a rather nasty fight between them, concluding with Wendy sobbing in the kitchen apologizing and begging her mom for help out of fear that she might end up like her father. Margaret, without hesitation, held her daughter close and vowed to do what it took.

Wendy received the help she needed, along with therapy for her trauma and cut ties with the friend. She graduated high school with a plan to become a nurse like her mother.

Margaret fell in love with a man named Travis McCoy and soon enough the new couple was dating. Jeremy liked him and got along with him, and he seemed decent enough, but Wendy didn’t trust him out of fear that their family history would repeat. However, after a group trip to Australia one summer, Travis and Wendy had a heart to heart, and she saw in him what Joseph should have been and accepted him.

After some time with the family, Travis asked her if it would be alright if he married her mom. Wendy, to her own surprise and delight, said it was.

Adulthood:

Wendy worked in a renowned Hospital when she met the first love of her life; Laverne Bree. It had started out as a friendship, since Bree had just moved into the same building and was working as a cop. But in the time spent together, Wendy found out that she felt a certain way about her friend and soon discovered her own bisexuality. When she felt secure to tell Laverne the truth, she was surprised to hear that Laverne had felt the same as she was already a closeted lesbian.

They took their relationship steadily and slow, and soon found confidence and started dating. Wendy brought Laverne around often to see her family and they adored her. Laverne doesn’t speak to her family and would always be ecstatic to join Wendy on holiday trips to see hers. Wendy eventually asked Laverne to marry her after years of dating.

Wendy and Laverne were about one year into planning their wedding when Wendy heard at work about a sudden mysterious outbreak of multiple people being bitten and behaving in strange and monstrous ways. An attack on a staff member at her hospital caused her to witness exactly what was happening for herself and her concerns grew about what would happen to her family.

The news steadily became more alarming as it was already estimated that vampires had humans outnumbered and that there was a need of what to do with these citizens as they still held onto themselves after being turned and were still considered people. While trying to stay busy after her hospital was shut down, Wendy decided to join the military in an effort to help make sense of what to do to help those in need. The program she entered into taught her all the tactical skills she would later use, and she was put into a squadron with a man named Gavin Smith who would soon become a good friend of hers. She met Parker, Levi, and Guadalupe there as well.

Gavin, Wendy and the rest of their troop spent their deployment setting up shelters and aid facilities as the world leaders came together to discuss what to do about the dwindling numbers of humans and the steadily rising of vampires. Wendy, while in constant contact with her loved ones, found out from her mother in a frightened voice that the area in which her father Joseph was still kept in prison was attacked and raided by a group of vampires and that Joseph’s body wasn’t anywhere among the dead accounted for. Wendy became fearful and told her mother to contact Laverne for help.

Wendy and her squadron were able to return home early and with things getting much worse on the news, she anxiously returned home that night as fast as she could but was too late and found her mother and stepfather slaughtered and drained of their blood in their own beds. Jeremy was nowhere to be found in the house as he had just been visiting with his girlfriend Trudy and there were more signs of an attack leading towards the kitchen. There, Wendy was horribly distraught to see her fiancee Laverne strewn on the floor bloody and no more. Her police gun a mere feet away from where she had fallen.

Wendy in her grief, was found by Joseph still inside the house and she vengefully did everything to stop him from turning her as he attacked her. she was almost bitten when Joseph was suddenly decapitated from behind by a worried Gavin as he stood before her with his machete. He helped her out of the house despite her struggles in vain to find her brother as they were joined by the other three members of their squad. Their plan was to abandon their ranks from the military after they had heard about it being announced that military forces were to be turned into vampires as a new protocol by all the world leaders after they had been turned into vampires as well. Finding out for themselves that being immortal was an upside to being undead.

In the weeks after going rogue, Gavin told Wendy to find an abandoned base that was hidden deep into the mountains nearby that he had heard about. They would hunker down somewhere safe until he had gotten word from her and in the meantime would try to save as many human lives as they still could. After a few months, Wendy was successful and the team along with survivors turned the place into their new home as the world outside changed and became dangerous.

In the few years that followed, Wendy would scout outside the colony walls by herself, looking for new survivors and being hunted by members of her old squadron lead by a man named Hudson Fowler, who had willingly been turned and were tasked with finding her and the other deserters.

Late Life:

In her mid to late 40s, Wendy would still scout despite the constant decreasing in human survivors.

As rumors spread that the Vamps were getting desperate for human blood, her trips became more dangerous and one day, while playing her emergency broadcast for other humans, she ran alongside a car with a Phoenix painted on it and met Lionel Cormac, Edward Dalton, and Audrey Bennett. She guided them back to her colony but ran into some trouble along the way back.

They all arrived there safe, and soon enough Ed, Audrey and Lionel introduced that there was a way to cure vampires back into human beings.

Wendy would ultimately decide to help them convince her colony that it was true, and this collaboration led her to become close with the trio, and eventually causing her and Lionel to become friends and eventually fall in love.

Within a few months, hope spread through the colony as word went around that because the blood substitute was working without any struggles, the conversation around what to do about the remaining humans became relevant again and more senators and government officials were deeply interested in trying to preserve the human race.

For the first time in a long while, Wendy was hopeful for a future where she and Lionel could live together.

Wendy was asked by Gavin to seek out another human colony that were in peaceful contact with Vampire senators that wished to help the humans return safely. She accepted and Lionel volunteered to travel with her.

Upon meeting the new colony in a remote location, Wendy was shocked to find her brother Jeremy alive and well with Trudy and their two daughters. Overcome with joy, the McCoy siblings embraced. But it was very short lived as a rogue party of Vampires found them and attacked.

They were fought off, but Wendy was bitten while protecting her new nieces from being harmed.

While escaping towards home with the colony in tow, Wendy revealed to Lionel that she had been bit and was worried about turning on her loved ones. Lionel assured her that she wouldn’t and once they got back, immediately set up a space for Wendy to be quarantined away from everyone else. Only Lionel and Ed refused to leave her as Parker does his best to care for her before she painfully turned into a vampire.

Lionel offers her his blood without hesitation, but Ed warns him that she might actually end up killing him since she was newly turned and hungry. Before any of them could do something, word spread to them about a group of vamps scouting the mountains near their hiding place and Wendy, fearing the worst, snuck away and successfully lured them away from the mountains on her bike. She was captured by Fowler and was taken to the city to be questioned.

Lionel, Gavin, Audrey and Ed were able to rescue her back and turn Wendy into a human again. Upon seeing that it was in fact possible, Gavin agreed to meet with the Vampires who advocated for human life with Jeremy and Audrey.

Months pass and the vampire community and government has set up peaceful conditions and places of reserves for humans to live openly and safely during the day. Laws are passed condoning the killing of humans by Vampires and while some are displeased on both sides, steps have been taken to ensure humanity continues safely. Wendy has long since recovered and upon coming home from visiting Jeremy and his family, is accompanied by Lionel and in the following weeks discovers that she has become pregnant with her first child.

Wendy at first is troubled by how late at her age she has become pregnant at and is concerned for their baby’s health while Lionel completely supports her by whatever decision she chooses. At this point Ed and Audrey have already had their first daughter and after confiding in Audrey, Wendy decides she wants to keep her baby.

After 8 1/2 months she gives birth to a small but healthy baby boy, she and Lionel name Matthew.

As the years pass and Matthew is now 12, Wendy and Lionel are married and are living happily in a small town that has both a Human and Vampire population within it. Lionel has another garage that services both vampire modeled and human modeled vehicles while Wendy works with Parker at their town clinic.

Wendy lives out the rest of her days with her loved ones, her husband Lionel and son Matthew doing what she loves and at peace with her life.

#IM SO SORRY THIS GOT LONGER THAN IT SHOULD #😅😅😅😄😄😄#I JUST REALLY LOVE THIS MOVIE AND WENDY #shut yer face moony #my ocs #wendy mccoy (daybreakers)#daybreakers #the spierig brothers #edward dalton #lionel cormac #audrey bennett #man i really just like info dumped here #i am working on a more detailed background but most of what happens will #be in fics like her meeting lionel and co #and just about almost up to her having matthew #i do have another idea for a conflict but thats not till later in her story #anyway i probably will update this as time goes on but i reallyyyy enjoyed doing this for her and cannot wait to do my others!#peace out!

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goldenavenger02 · 2 years

Text

between the lines of fear and blame

Chase and Donald both owe each other an apology. Takes place after Lab Rats vs Might Med

Chase knew that Douglas was right when he all but demanded that he get checked out by the medical staff when they arrived back at The Academy; he had almost died multiple times and had the energy literally sucked out of his body all in the span of twenty-four hours. If Douglas hadn't sent him down there, he likely would have made the trip himself.

What he hadn't expected was his blood to boil in a swirl of anger when he saw that Mr. Davenport was sitting on one of the beds, a solid black eye patch covering his right eye.

"Chase," he stood and approached, but stopped short as Chase took a step back.

'I'm so mad at you,' he thought to himself, biting back the anger on his tongue, 'this whole this is your fault and you think you can just apologize and I'll forgive you like always, but I could have died because of your selfishness,'

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Chase knew that he could have made the simple statement without making sure there was a bite in his voice, but he knew that his body ached too much for him to care and nothing sounded better by spending at least twelve hours alone in his capsule.

'Please let someone else come in here.' He hoped with his entire being, praying that Adam or Bree would come in and break the growing tension between him and Mr. Davenport because anything was better than looking the man who raised you in the eyes and wishing that he was anywhere else.

"That's good," Mr. Davenport nodded as if the anger that was evident in Chase's voice was nonexistent, "I'm glad you're okay."

Chase couldn't even pretend to be civil as he sat down on the bed and allowed a poor nurse just trying to get paid to take his blood pressure while snapping, "yeah, I'm sure you are."

"Chase, you could have died," though stern, his voice was heavy with concern as he spoke, "I could have lost you and-"

"I'm aware I almost died, but you and I both know that this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't tried to profit off of me for your own selfish gain!"

"I wasn't trying to make you angry-" he knew that the only reason he was getting away with screaming like this was that Mr. Davenport felt bad, but he wanted him to feel bad for this.

"You don't think that not crediting me, leaving me out of negotiations, and blaming me for being manipulated by the Incapcitator wouldn't have made me angry?! I worked just as hard as you on the transponder, maybe even harder!"

The room was hauntingly quiet after that as the nurse moved slowly, most likely trying to avoid being on the receiving end of Chase's fury, which made him feel bad for her because she was a witness to the fallout.

In fact, it was only after she had left that Mr. Davenport finally spoke again, his voice much less stern, being replaced with a hollowness that made Chase's stomach clench for a brief moment out of sympathy.

"You have every right to be angry after how I treated you, you're right. But, making deals behind my back to get even? That is not happening again, no matter how upset either of us is. You're sixteen, we can talk things out civilly."

"Are you even hearing yourself?! I tried that and you didn't listen to me! You disregarded my opinions and used me for my smarts. But no, it's my fault as always. "You shouldn't have gone into a mission on your own", "you shouldn't have trusted Sebastian", "you shouldn't have been angry because I ignored you." It's always my fault, isn't it?"

"That is not true, Chase, and you know it," Davenport's voice was no longer laced with hollowness and the stern tone returned as he took a deep breath before going towards the door, "I am glad you're okay, and I am sorry for how I treated you. But I know that you're angry so you are not going to believe me when I say that. Douglas will be in here in a minute to stay with you."

And before Chase could say anything, although he knew that he'd probably continue to lash out, Mr. Davenport had left, leaving him in a sterile white and blue room on a hospital bed waiting to be cleared.

However, after the stress of the day from nearly being killed, going from one bed to another and his heart pounding to having his energy taken away, the last thing he wanted was to lay here with a bitter taste in his mouth from his words and his body aching with regret.

As he stared at the ceiling, he couldn't stop the tears that brimmed at the edges of his eyes from falling down the sides of his face.

"Whoa, Chase, breathe." Douglas's voice had never been one that Chase found comforting, but his body shook with regret and everything hurt and he was so. damn. tired. It was the perfect combination that made everything spill over as a rushing river fell from a height, making a waterfall. It fell so fast that he felt like he had run a marathon by the time he had finished explaining everything that had happened.

'But maybe that's the exhaustion.'

The room was quiet for a few moments while the tears dried uncomfortably against Chase's cheeks while Douglas' face was one of being deep in thought until he finally spoke.

"You know what I've learned about my brother at this point?" He paused for a moment, even though Chase knew that the question was rhetoric in nature, before answering his own question, "he is one of the most stubborn people I know and even if he knows that he is in the wrong, he'll defend his point till the end."

"So that gives him the excuse to treat me like that?" Chase demanded, the fury threatening to rear its ugly head again.

"Did I say that?" Douglas asked which quelled the anger, "My point is that you and I do the same thing. You probably would do it even if I had been the one to raise you. But, in this situation, you're both in the wrong. He should have heard you out and credited you, but you shouldn't have tried to make a deal behind his back and let a stranger into the academy."

Chase hated that Douglas was right. But it at least meant that the instant regret hadn't just been exhaustion.

"What should I do then?"

"Well, first you need some sleep. You look like you're about to keel over. No offense," Chase couldn't help but agree with him on that point if he looked half as bad as he looked, "after that, you and Donnie both owe each other an apology. A genuine one."

Chase nodded, noticing that the tear stains had dried up and disappeared, the only remnants of them being his stinging eyes and his heavy heart.

"Good." Douglas nodded back as the doctor came in, leaving their conversation in the past aside from Chase's thought that loomed in his head.

'How do I apologize to someone who can't see that they screwed up too?'

….

The fourteen hours that Chase had just to sleep were some of the best hours he had ever had and it was the best sleep he had ever had that he could remember; luckily for him, no one had to train for the next few days, giving him the much-needed break.

As he walked into the cafeteria, he couldn't help but smile when he was engulfed in a hug by Bree while Leo quipped from his seat, "what do you know? He lives."

Bree let go shortly afterward, allowing Chase to go over to the coffee machine and pour some into a mug before sitting with his siblings, "when are we supposed to start training back up?"

"You almost died and you want to get back to training?" Adam questioned before delivering a shoulder squeeze that commanded Chase to look at his older brother, "don't worry about it and go shark surfing."

With that, the oldest of the bionic siblings left and Bree only had to shoot Leo a quick glance before the youngest of them ran after him, shouting something about how he would pass out if someone got bit by a shark.

"So, did you talk to Mr. Davenport?"

Chase winced internally as he remembered the screaming match from the night before that had been pretty one-sided, "not really." He admitted and gave her the condensed version of events before letting out a sigh, "what do I do to fix this?"

"Don't turn it into a debate, for one. You tend to do that a lot. Also, actions speak louder than words. Showing that you're sorry will be better for both of you after you apologize. But, if you want my opinion, Mr. Davenport is the one who should apologize to you."

Chase nodded as he started to figure out exactly what he was going to say in his mind. 'Hopefully, this works.'

He didn't have to wait long to figure out how this was going to play out because soon enough, he was called back to the infirmary for a follow-up and there was Mr. Davenport, the eyepatch still on his face as he stood next to one of the beds.

'Here goes nothing.'

"Mr. Davenport, I-"

"Chase, I need to apologize," being cut off was mildly irritating but the fact that he was actually trying made Chase go silent with shock, "I shouldn't have blamed you for what happened. This one is on me."

"I should be the one apologizing," Chase responded, looking at the floor to avoid looking up at his father's face and seeing his mistakes in the form of an eyepatch. "I should've thought it through for a few seconds, but I just wanted to make you angry."

"Your hurt allowed you to be blindsided, the hurt that I caused you. Plain and simple, I never would have understood the inner workings of the transponder without you. It wouldn't have existed without your brain. You deserve credit, more credit than I gave you."

"But you got hurt because of me," Chase couldn't keep his voice from quivering as he finally looked into Mr. Davenport's eyes, "if I hadn't trusted another stranger-"

"You have to stop beating yourself up about Sebastian, Chase. It's eating you alive."

"I know, I know. It's just really hard to do that when I thought I could trust him. And now with this,…it makes me wonder if I deserve to be called the smartest man in the world. If I'm even good enough to have my bionics if they constantly fail me."

"Even with the bionics, you're never going to be perfect. None of you are, because at your core, you're still human and at least for a little while longer, you're still a kid. Even though you grew up fast, you are still a kid."

That finally burst the dam that had been holding everything up for months. Sebastian, his anger towards Mr. Davenport, and his fear about dying, all came crumbling down with those words that he had needed to hear for a very long time.

But he didn't have to cry alone, because he was almost instantly pulled into a tight hug and was allowed to press his head against a shoulder to let everything out in shaking, harsh sobs that made his chest hurt and his eyes sting.

But the gentle hand rubbing his back and the soft voice whispering "I've got you" made him think that just maybe, he was going to be okay.

#lab rats #fanfic #chase davenport #donald davenport #douglas davenport #bree davenport #post lab rats vs mighty med #angst #crying #family #dysfunctional family

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literarygoon · 4 months

Text

So,

The swirling mist on the surface of Kootenay Lake curled up into the white sky, like a tumbling waterfall in reverse.

It was early afternoon in late November 2017 and my leg bounced anxiously against the passenger side door while I watched, red-eyed, from behind fogged glass. Ghostly apparitions ascended skyward then plummeted back down, an intricate and tragic pantomime intended for my eyes only. I’d driven this route countless times in the past few years, the serpentine route from Nelson to Kalso, but I was usually the driver.

Oh-oh, the voices sang, I’m a rebel just for kicks now. Gonna kick it like it’s 1986 now.

At the cops’ insistence my roommate Bree was at the wheel of my RAV — I’d lost my driving privileges after a series of manic shenanigans — as we rounded the last few bends toward the Balfour ferry terminal. We were en route to the Cranbrook Airport, a few hours away, so that I could flee home to my parents’ house on the coast after an embarrassingly public mental breakdown.

Bree blew a strand of fire engine red out of her face, quietly focused on her task, while light rain guzzled down the windshield. I could hear the stress in her breathing. She sounded like Tony Soprano.

In the past few days, things had spiralled out of my control. My brain space was a dumpster fire of shame, fury, and manic self-righteousness. I was dressed in uniform bouncer black, with a slick grey tie tucked into a form-fitting vest and a toque pulled low over my bleary eyes. I’m dressing up for my breakdown, that’s what I kept telling myself, finishing the look with a pair of neon pink gas station sunglasses.

In the previous month I’d lost first my job, then my mind, and now I was losing my home. The whole trifecta. I wanted to handle the continuing descent with a modicum of dignity, but social media was my one final finger-hold. After spending a week jogging panting laps between the hospital and the police department, dumping my drama on whoever would listen, I’d successfully found a way to speak out and do real damage.

Gloves off, motherfuckers, I typed into Twitter. Omar’s coming!

As a journalist I’d been writing to an audience of 10,000 people twice a week for nearly four years now, becoming something of a mini-celebrity in the tiny mountain town of Nelson, B.C. I was the school board and arts reporter, but also covered a variety of breaking news stories — robberies, forest fires, mental health crises. But about a month earlier, during a routine Wednesday lunch hour, my publisher Aaron had summoned me to his office along with my editor Ed. He didn’t even ask us to sit down before informing me that I was being let going without cause, and saying that perhaps we would get the chance to work together again one day.

Let go without cause.

I’d been prepared for this moment, had felt it coming, and had he fired me the traditional way I would’ve been prepared with an arsenal of arguments for why it was a wrong-minded, short-sighted, bullshit decision. But this was a blindside I hadn’t expected, like being dumped via text. It gave no room for dialogue, for human interaction – it was like being expelled from a machine. Exiled, excommunicated, excised.

Really, it was a cleverly disguised lie. There was a cause, but they just didn’t want the liability and rigmarole that came with admitting that.

They’re all complicit, I decided. The whole Nelson community collaborating on my downfall. After spending weeks therapy-painting in my living room, smoking pot and nursing my rage along to YouTube videos played on repeat, I’d come up with an emotionally satisfying counter-narrative to the one Aaron had offered: my publisher had shut me down to stop publication of two politically sensitive stories, a testimony from two sexual assault survivors and a feature about a recent high school graduate who had died of a fentanyl overdose.

After three and a half years of reporting on parades, fundraisers, and city council meetings, I’d finally found two stories with teeth, stories that mattered, and that’s why I needed to be silenced. It just wasn’t what the public wanted from their local paper. They wanted the same comfortable stories, told the same way, year after year — not to be brought face to face with the community’s sins, with its toxic subculture. With its evil.

Let go without cause. It had to mean something more than the literal words suggested; it was like a unsolvable mind-puzzle, custom-designed to torment me. By reframing the situation in my mind, though, I’d recast myself as a tragic hero instead of a meddling stoner dip-shit in the thick of a psychotic break. If this was an episode of The Wire, then I was Omar — Baltimore’s Robin Hood, the only one brave enough to speak the truth undiluted. As the mania took hold, I felt a raw power burbling inside of me. Like a spirit that had been waiting to be unleashed. I was the real Slim Shady, I was Tyler Durden, I was Jaime fucken Lannister.

You help me lose my mind, the voices sang. And you bring me something I can’t define.

Once we arrived at the loading lanes, Bree maneuvered us past some parked police cars sitting idle in the afternoon drizzle. I perked up, scanning the rest of the terminal like an attack dog. I was living in a perpetual present, with no past or future, and every moment felt drenched with significance. I hadn’t slept in nearly three days, but somehow I was still trembling with energy.

“What’s going on?” I asked her, wondering momentarily if I was their target. I swept my head to the left, to the right. “Look at all these cops cars everywhere.”

“They don’t have their lights on.”

“Holy shit, there’s what? Like four? They’re parked down both sides of the causeway.”

“There’s one over there too.”

Earlier that morning we’d woken up to a light snowfall, and from the second floor window I could see that the police had returned my vehicle — I’d left it parked diagonally in their lot before charging in to see the Police Chief Paul Burkart the day before. I called down to the station to ask for my keys, and a few minutes later stood in the street talking with one of the constables about everything that had gone down over the previous few days. My social media landscape was scorched earth, with all the people pissed at my incendiary Facebook posts and volatile Twitter threads.

I have to stay high all the time to keep you off my mind, the voices sang.

Burkart reassured me that people in Nelson understood what I was going through and would empathize despite my demented vitriol. He wished me luck while snowflakes fell, and shook my hand. I’d never felt so embarrassed. Losing your mind is humiliating.

“Your job now is to take care of yourself. You’re going to be just fine,” he said.

As seagulls shrieked overhead, I wrenched open my passenger door to figure out what was going on at the ferry terminal. I counted at least five cruisers strategically flanking both the loading and unloading lanes, and a trio of uniformed cops standing at water’s edge. I felt like I was in the movie Heat, right before Val Kilmer and Robert De Niro open fire with their machine guns. Something was about to go down, something exciting, and I wanted to be the one to capture it — like Michael Mann, one of my favourite directors. I stretched out my arms and did a few CrossFit stretches, my head wobbling as I pushed away sleep. I needed another joint, or a coffee, or maybe a slap in the face. I felt like a time traveler, like I’d come back from some far away future just so I could live this moment.

But why?

As I worked my way through the rows of cars, I spotted Cst. Lisa Schmidtke locking her driver’s door, looking hurried and tense. She was one of the officers who traveled around the district to teach students how to hide during a school shooting — I’d taken her photo for a story months earlier. As it turned out, she was also looking to connect with me about a drunk driver I’d reported over the weekend. After nearly getting into an accident with him outside the bar, during my break, I’d actually run into him a second time in the hospital the next day. He was strapped to a gurney outside the room where I was being interviewed by a pair of nurses trying to figure out whether they should commit me or not.

I didn’t know his name, so I just called him Face Tattoo.

“Lisa, hey,” I said, sauntering over. “I hear you want to talk to me?”

Schmidtke gave her key a quick tug, then pivoted towards me. She had an assault rifle slung diagonal across her chest, and was gazing past me to the ferry that was just entering the terminal. Her brow line wrinkled.

“Not now, Will. We have to get this guy into custody.”

What guy?

I didn’t get a chance to respond before she went jogging along the line of vehicles, her gun wagging like a taunting black finger. This is not your job, it’s ours. That’s what Burkart had told me, when I came crashing into his office to tell him all the secret intel I’d compiled since Aaron let me go without cause. I had a list of 25 names, people I could take off the street for good with my testimony, but he hadn’t taken me seriously. None of them had. Everyone was complicit and I was the only one who could see the truth through all the lies.

If Nelson was Eden, then this was the Fall. Was nobody paying attention?

It seemed like every day a new crowd was rushing the streets on social media, down in the U.S., chanting in unison: Black Lives Matter! Black Lives Matter! Black Lives Matter! The mass shootings in the States were relentless too, all while Trump continued to rampage his way through the White House. Lately he was playing international chicken with Kim-Jong Un, boasting about the size of the nuclear bomb button on his desk.

I felt like I was living in a burning building.

“What’s happening?” Bree asked as I sauntered back to the car, the hood of my winter jacket up around my face. She was leaning out of the driver’s side door, and I stopped there to fill her in. I told her everything felt like it was happening all at once, like I had tiny planets orbiting my head like bees, and I just needed a moment to pull myself together. I took a long breath and closed my eyes.

All I was needed was one calm moment, and here it was. I had something specific to fixate on, learn more about. I was on the front-lines again, reporting from the thick of the action, except now I didn’t have an editor, which meant no censorship either. I was like McNulty from The Wire, a principled but preposterous Baltimore detective known for his heavy drinking, insubordination, and unwillingness to play by the rules. In the fifth season he invented a serial killer to dupe the police department into funnelling city funds in a new direction. I was rocking his energy, making shit up as I went along.

I’d lived my whole life to become this guy, right here and right now, this goon.

“You stay here,” I told Bree, turning my face toward the rain. “I’m going to find out.”

“Don’t go too far away. They’re going to be loading soon.”

“I won’t be long.”

As I approached the shoreline, I spotted some cops I recognized from CrossFit. I stood just barely within earshot, pretending to contemplate the horizon as they gossiped. It was a gorgeous day, heaven peeking through the dissipating clouds. The rain had taken a breather, and gentle wind kissed my face.

“He’s in the fourth car, middle lane,” one of them said, pointing at the ferry. It groaned and buzzed and clanged as it came to a stop. The cops were gathering together, excitedly bouncing on their feet. One of them was doing hamstring stretches. It was like they were getting ready for a track meet. I’d always admired the police in the Kootenays, and it felt almost cinematic to finally see them in action.

Earlier that year I’d written a magazine feature for a magazine called Maisonneuve about how they’d successfully arrested a bank robber named Andrew Stevenson back in 2014. I trusted them, and they trusted me to tell their stories — even though the Star was also their department’s most persistent critic. As they fanned out around the cars in formation, some of them with guns drawn, I held my breath. For a moment I wasn’t thinking about my own bullshit, I was just wondering who this guy was and what he’d done.

Then I saw him. Two cops were frog-marching this sketch case down the line of the cars, roughly forcing him down the gangplank, and I took a quick visual inventory: early 30s, he was scrawny, with a puckered mean expression and a punk rock bleach job. It wasn’t until I spotted the prison tattoo by his left eye that I confirmed who it was: the dirtbag I’d reported from the bar and the hospital, the one I was supposed to talk to Schmidtke about. Here he was, right in front of me again. Insane coincidences seems to happen all the time in Nelson, but I still couldn’t believe it. The universe had hand-delivered this guy into my presence for the third time in three days.

It was like our souls were entangled, our trajectories caught up together somehow, but he was en route to jail and I was headed for sanctuary at my parents’ house. Chaotic images swirled. What was the difference between him in handcuffs and me, standing here free?

“That’s him!” I shrieked, before I had a chance to stop myself. “That’s the fucking drunk driver I caught the other night! That’s him.”

I could see in the cops’ faces: oh, shit.

“That’s right, fucker!” I yelled, running out from between the parked cars. “Enjoy prison, fuck face! You could’ve killed somebody.”

The dude’s hateful eyes swung my way. He had meth head energy. Sneering, he thrust out his chest with a toothy smile.

“Fuck you, fatty,” he said. “Come at me.”

By this point I was waving my arms, jogging across the concrete, but I pulled myself together just shy of actually tackling the guy. My chest heaved as they forced him swearing and kicking into the backseat of their cruiser. I was like an angry hobbit trying its best to be intimidating but looking ridiculous instead. I could feel my shoulders getting damp, and I struggled to catch my breath as my pulse throbbed rhythmically in my neck.

“Get back,” the cops said. “Or we’ll arrest you for obstruction.”

That shut me up for a moment, but right away I knew what to do: call Greg Nesteroff. Dude was my former editor and absolute hero, working at a local radio station, and like me he had a justice boner for holding assholes accountable. During our time sharing a newsroom he’d nailed a man charged with possessing child pornography and had written a fiery editorial calling out a local police officer for punching a woman during an arrest. He’d also stood up for me through a number of work altercations I had with management. Quickly dialling his number, I paced by the car, and I tried to remember the drunk driver’s name from the other night. It was right there, like I could almost say it out loud, but my memory was too messy. As soon as Greg answered I made sure to talk as loudly as I could so both the cops and the guy in custody knew exactly what I was doing.

“I’ve got the radio on the line,” I told one of the cops. “What’s this guy’s name?”

“We can’t tell you that. Privacy.”

“Greg, they got the drunk driver from the other night, from Tony’s Taphouse. They just arrested him in front of everybody, out here at the Balfour ferry. I’m right here, I just watched it happen, right in front of me. I recognized his face tattoo.”

“Sorry, slow down,” Greg said, his voice measured and calm — just liked he sounded on the radio. “What happened, exactly?”

Once I’d filled him in, I clicked my phone off and made my way back to Bree. I was feeling all kinds of uncomfortable emotions, unsure of how to bring myself down, and I squeezed out hot tears as I rocked in the passenger seat. The cars were beginning to start their engines around us, and I could see the extra cruisers begin to pull away now that they’d made their arrest.

I’ve got guns in my head and they won’t go, the voices sang. Spirits in my head and they won’t go.

I pulled out my phone and began to scroll through Twitter again, seeing if any of my grenades had found purchase. I stabbed at the screen, retweeting and commenting and engaging with whatever conversation floated up to my face. The Nelson community wanted me silenced, wanted me gone, but I wasn’t going to be a good little boy.

This isn’t fair, I wrote. You fire me in the middle of a fucking fentanyl crisis?

I tagged anyone I thought might be able to intervene on my behalf, though I had no idea what that would look like, as the cars began to load. Bree maneuvered the RAV into place while I sat in the passenger seat in attack mode, calling out people I had a problem with. I felt like Tyler Durden standing in the middle of Baker Street, my shirt ripped open, begging for somebody to punch me.

That’s when my editor from Maisonneuve reached out through a direct message. She was in the hospital on the verge of going into labour but took the time to tell me I should stop posting online. Another writer told me “you’re in no state to be giving interviews” and encouraged me to get off social media. I sent her a thankful emoticon and signed out.

“I’m going to pace around the deck,” I told Bree, once the ferry was moving. “I need to clear my head.”

Kootenay Lake was gorgeous, glass-like, as I walked around the perimeter. Everything was calm except for me. I chatted with a truck driver for a few minutes, then pulled up my hood and started marching laps from one end of the boat to the other. The anger pulsing through my limbs didn’t feel like an emotion; it was more like a physical malady, like a stomach ache or a migraine. My fingers were trembling. My thoughts kept circling back to the same asshole, someone completely unrelated to my current crisis, but for whom I’d carried around a multi-year beef. Cam Carpenter. I thought of Cam living safe and happy in Nelson while I lost everything I love and I just couldn’t fucking handle it.

Finally I came around to the back, where some loose orange netting was the only thing between me and the water below. Staring down at it, I realized that I could easily jump into the cold arms of Kootenay Lake — I figured my coat would weigh me down enough that I would drown. Then someone else could deal with this.

Holy shit, I realized. That’s a suicidal thought.

It was the first time in my 33 years on the planet that I’d contemplated suicide, and it scared the shit out of me. Right away I knew it was a whole new line that I wasn’t ready to cross, so I quickly beelined back to the car and jumped in.

“Hey,” I told Bree. “I just thought about throwing myself off the back of the ferry. “I don’t want you to worry, because I’m not going to do it, but I’m going to stay in the car, okay?”

She looked at me with exhaustion in her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. “Stay right there and we’ll get you to the airport.” The Literary Goon

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privateeye-cj · 11 months

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Charlie's Angels Rewatch - To Kill an Angel (Ep. 7, S. 1)

Story

Kelly volunteers at a childcare facility, taking an autistic little boy, Skip, out to the amusement park. She tells the other Angels she has a date though.

The little boy bumps into two killers and later picks up the gun one of them dropped. Not realizing it is real, he shots Kelly in the head. Shocked by what happened, he runs away.

Meanwhile the killers are afraid he can identify them and go searching for him.

Kelly is in surgery and Sabrina loses it how Kelly can be shot at a date. Then the police finds a murdered man not 50 feet from where Kelly was found. The chase is on.

When Skip is publicly searched for, one of the killers pretends to be his father and tries to extract information from the still very shaken up Kelly.

Skip meanwhile collects various items , Jill and Sabrina hot on his heels but always a tad too late. Kelly at long last realizes he tries to play out the story of the sleeping princess and the prince she has been telling him, trying to rescue her.

We get a great showdown at the amusement park.

Best Quote

Jill: Let me get this straight: We take our clothes off, and you give us the information we want.

Sleazy Printer: Is it a deal?

Sabrina: Just a second. We'll talk it over.

Sabrina (to Jill): What's the penalty for pornographic proposition?

Jill: Gee, I don't know. It depends on if he's a first-offender.

(Printer caves thinking they are cops).

Sabrina: Thank you, its citizens like you that make our job a lot easier.

Gayest Moment

Sabrina nearly running into the operating theater trying to stay with Kelly. The nurse asks if they are family and Bree stutters. Jill just says "Yes, we are family."

Greatest Mystery

Where does the kitten Skip found ended up?

Rating

Four out of five lost kittens

This episode plays heavily on our emotions. Our distress for Kelly and the other Angels' desperation.

There's also long parts where we follow Skip around, see people try to connect to him and him not knowing how to handle that.

I have no idea if this is a realistic representation of more severe autism. It seems like there's a lot of social commentary in this episode on how the society fails both parents of autistic children and the children themselves.

The scenes where the killer fools Kelly into revealing information about Skips whereabouts by posing as his father's are hard to take. Usually, Kelly would be onto him. But even though she's weak, she goes out to keep Skip safe.

#charlie's angels tv rewatch #charlie's angels #kelly garrett #jill munroe #sabrina duncan

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

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Glass Shatters || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader, also kinda Blaise x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxicity, ANGST, just pure fucking angst and asshole!draco, oh and swearing lol Summary: You realise that it’s time to end things with Draco when he hurts you one last time. AU with no Voldemort - 7th Year.

WORDS : 2294

Lyrics taken from ‘What Do I Tell My Friends’ by Bree Runway (the loml)

~~~

Hold me, don't let me go I'm fragile, I'm gonna fall right into you Catch time that I have lost Fly high, free fall, ooh

There’s always been something so beautiful about the way that glass shatters, loud and chaotic, scattering shards of itself everywhere and lodging itself in places that it doesn’t belong. It’s poetically exquisite, to just come apart and spread into tinier pieces of what you were once before, but it’s grossly painful to wear oneself out like that.

Sometimes, though not often enough, there is someone there to catch the glass before it hits the ground and scatters into a million pieces. A safety net, perhaps is the right word, there to protect those lattices from coming into contact with the hard surface that awaits them. Something to keep them from separating like the tangled limbs of playful children on a trampoline when they come back down to land against the woven polypropylene. But there’s not often a safety net waiting for you to fall.

And maybe that’s why people typically shatter like glass.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-huh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

You catch a glimpse of Draco across the room. He’s doing it again. He’s got one arm around Cho Chang’s shoulder and another around Millicent Bullstrode’s, and not a single sliver of attention is being directed toward you.

You’re not fragile. No. You never have been.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve prided yourself on being strong, on being able to protect yourself. What most people see when they look at you is power and ferocity- you're made of what Gods are made of and almost everyone knows it. You are not fragile.

But when it comes to Draco, you are like a frail baby bird that's always being nursed back to health. That was what a routine like the two of you had demanded. Submission, protection, but most would call it toxicity. You are putty in his hands and he knows it- every wall that you’ve ever built to protect yourself is nothing more than a child’s play pen when Draco is involved.

You catch his eye and scowl at the mischievous grin that he’s got on his face. He knows how much you despise his flirtatious nature, and it’s exactly that reason that encourages him to keep it up. You’re a beast that’s not to be messed with, like a tiger lodged in a cage, and he’s the only one that knows how to tame you. It always goes down the same way; he insists that the two of you need to keep it on the down-low, he then proceeds to flirt with everyone, you get upset, the two of you get in an argument and well... he always wins.

You're not fragile yet he always gets a reaction out of you.

But not tonight, no. Tonight it’ll be different.

Tonight you’re going to have a good time, with or without that snow-flake haired prick. You turn beside you where Neville, your best friend, is seated and smile at him.

“Neville, want to get smashed with me?”

“Always, Y/N.” Neville responds with a grin and you excitedly get up to get you both some drinks.

You're g-g-getting way too close (Oh oh, oh oh) Stop blowin' up my phone (Oh oh, oh oh) Just let me be alone (Oh oh, oh oh) It's gotta come to an end 'Cause what do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

Draco catches a glimpse of you leaving the couch where Neville, Blaise and Hannah are sitting, and decides to follow you toward the drinks table.

“Whoring around are we?” He asks with his eyebrows raised and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you’re one to talk.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”He tugs on your chin and brings you up to face him.

“First of all,” You start as you softly remove his hand from your chin and lower it to his side, “You heard me. Second of all,” You put a hand to his chest and gently shove him backwards, “Back up please, I can smell your breakfast from here.”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Y/N, this bratty behaviour-“

“Call me a brat, ever again, and I’ll make sure that’s the last thing you ever call me.” You smile, “I have a name, stick to it.”

This is very new for Draco, he’s never seen you speak so calmly in the heat of an argument. He’s seen you rage at him, yell until your lungs are sore and throat is raw, clench your fists so tight that crescent moons form in your palm. But he’s never seen you like this, never so collected. If he’s being completely honest, your level-headed appearance is throwing him off.

“Whatever pothead Neville’s given you is clearly fucking with your head, let’s go back to my dorm-“ He starts as he inches closer and grabs your wrist.

You yank yourself out of his grip and take a few steps away from him, “As tempting as that offer sounds, I’m good thanks.” When you notice the look of confusion painting across his features you smile awkwardly, “I know how this always ends so I’d much rather be alone.”

“So I’m just supposed to wait until you don’t want to be alone anymore?” He asks with a scoff.

“It’s not like I haven’t been doing that for you.” You accuse and watch as he clenches his jaw in frustration, a sign that his patience for you is wearing thin. “And that’s not what I meant. I want to be alone, indefinitely.”

“What?”

“This,” You gesture between the both of you, “Is over. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Oh my fuck, do what Y/N?”

“All of it. I can’t keep sneaking around anymore like some kind of dirty secret. I can’t keep watching you flirt with everyone that’s within a 5km radius, and I can’t keep lying to my friends. What am I meant to tell them when I go disappearing for hours at a time and come back, covered in hickeys?”

“Nothing. It's no one's business.” He grits out angrily and you scoff with a small laugh.

“You’re pathetic. We’re done.” You utter before walking away from him, and his little corner, and go back to join Blaise, Hannah and Neville on the dance floor.

In the mirror like you're tough, right? I shoulda known once when you bit twice Drip drop both my , yeah I been nice Vodka overdose but no ice I'm done catching feelings, I catch flights Was in the dark but I got bright Not crawling back to you tonight Not crawling back to you tonight, tonight

“Shots, now.” You mumble once you get back to your friends and they waste no time obliging.

Draco’s had the pleasure of picking you apart like a worn out doll for too long, you won’t tolerate it anymore. He calls, you run. He warns, you heed. He scolds, you leave. Whatever he wants, you do without a moment of hesitation. When had you become so easily prey to his antics? You steal a glance of him checking himself out in a nearby mirror and feel your throat close up in disgust. How can someone so gorgeous be so horrible?

Deep down, beneath all that beauty and cockiness, is a vulnerable, scared and loveless little boy who didn’t learn to outgrow his insecurities. He can pretend all he wants that he’s a diamond but you’ll always know, he’s dark and desolate like a stone of coal. Something inside of him is fractured beyond repair and now he’s just remnants of disintegrated life. And try as hard as you might, you can’t fix whatever’s broken inside him. It’s not your job to anyway.

You always run back to him, in hopes of finally curing the malaise that torments his soul, but not tonight. No. Tonight will be different.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-uh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

“Is this a party or a funeral? For fucks sake, turn it up Ginny!” You shout as you turn behind you to face the beautiful ginger that’s controlling the music.

“Anything for you Y/N.” She responds flirtatiously as she sends you a wink and proceeds to turn up the volume to the music. You look away from her with a dopey smile, trying to pretend that her wink hadn’t made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Oh Ginny. If you hadn’t wasted so much time pining after that blond prat then maybe you’d have gotten to her before Harry had.

“Come dance with me!” Blaise yells over the music and you happily agree as you let him take your hand and move you toward the makeshift dancefloor.

Any other time, you would have refused. It’s no secret that, despite being best friends, Blaise and Draco can be very competitive. Blaise had always been your friend and Draco, had not. But it was quite obvious to anyone who had eyes that the two of them both took quite a liking to you, and while your relationship with Draco isn’t public, it’s still never a good idea to get too close to Blaise. But fuck good ideas, tonight none of it matters.

If Draco likes to see you angry then today he’ll see you seething. Every unspoken rule that’s ever sat between the two of you will now be broken so harshly that it’ll shake him to his core.

You wait until you’ve spotted him in the room, then you hook your arms around Blaise’s neck and allow his hands to fall on your waist as a measure to guide you along with him. It’s not long until Draco sees you, and when his eyes lock with yours, you know that he’s positively enraged. If this is a game, today you are winning.

He’s almost always got the upper hand. But not tonight. No. Tonight is different.

Before you know it Draco is crossing the room and yanking you away from Blaise by the arm, dragging you to an abandoned section of the room.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Why are you hovering so close to me?” You ask in frustration as you step back from him. “Sheesh.”

“Sheesh? Sheesh?” He repeats in disbelief and you have to resist the urge to laugh. “Y/N, how much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough apparently, considering I’m standing here with you and not grinding against your better looking counterpart.” You mumble and Draco scoffs.

“Blaise is not better looking than me-“

“Okay Romeo, whatever you say.” You cut him off with a giggle, “Are we done here or was there more?”

“Was there more?” He repeats in a mocking tone, like a child making fun of their childhood friend. “Of course there was bloody more!”

His outburst has you laughing, genuinely laughing, and for a second you see the Draco Malfoy that got you into this mess in the first place. Your funny, good-looking, charming classmate that you accidentally allowed to creep into your heart. But he’s not the real Draco, no, that Draco doesn’t actually exist.

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek and, without even thinking, say “I wish that this was the real you.” He furrows his eyebrows at you, clearly confused, but you continue nonetheless. “I can’t keep doing this Draco, I love you but I love myself more and I can’t allow you to get in the way of my wellbeing any longer.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “How am I getting in the way of your wellbeing?”

“Tell me that you love me too, right now, say it.” You shrug.

“Y/N, you can’t jus-“

“Okay, tell me that we can go public.” You revert and he swallows.

“Why are you-“

“Fuck, I’ll make it easy for you.” You interrupt him once again and give him a thin smile, “Tell me that what we have is real and that we’re in a relationship.”

He opens his mouth but no words come out and you nod your head awkwardly in understanding.

“Y/N, it’s not that-“

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief, “Your chest is hollow and yet you still have no space for me.”

“No-“

You blink back tears as you continue, “You push away everyone that cares about you and then you turn around and complain about the fact that there’s no one left to root for you. How can I possibly be in your corner when you’re continuously trying to shove me out of it?”

There are tears welling in your eyes but you don’t let them fall, no, he doesn’t deserve to make you cry.

He looks at you in shock and you know that you’re not getting any kind of closure from him. Despite how hard you’d tried to convince yourself otherwise, you had always been nothing more than a warm bed that he could settle into when he was lonely. The fire in you that he’s always admired seems to dwindle whenever you’re beneath his gaze, and now you realise that it’s not fair for you to die out for him.

“I hope you learn to start letting people in.” You whisper before giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking back toward your friends.

He watches you walk away from him and struggles to sort through his thoughts. No, no, no. You can’t leave him, everyone else has already left him. You’re safe, you’re warm, you’re you, and Draco knows that he has feelings for you but how can he possibly convey that when words always get trapped in his throat like a cricket in a shoebox?

He knows what he wants to say to you, the words are scraping against the belt of his mouth like knives ripping through tape on a cardboard box, but how does he get them out, how does he make you understand?

Maybe that’s just it, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t make you understand. He doesn’t get you. He breaks, little by little, with every step you take away from him.

What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

“What was that about?” Blaise asks in your ear and you roll your eyes as you pull back to look at him.

“Draco being immature, nothing important.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Blaise smiles sheepishly. “I was worried that maybe something was going on between you two.”

You smile brightly at the boy as you bring his hands down to your waist and sway to the music. “Why would that worry you Zabini?”

“I’m kind of into you.” Blaise whispers before bringing his lips down to connect with yours.

You don’t notice, too engulfed in the feeling of Blaise’s lips against yours, but across the room Draco’s eyes are focused quite intently on you and Blaise. When the two of you kiss Draco drops the glass that he had been holding, and he thinks that maybe he’s that glass; being smashed to smithereens.

~~~

Okay, I’ll stop with angst now... (maybe) I have the sudden desire to write fluff so the sequel to ‘Falling Out Of Love With Astoria Greengrass’ will definitely be wholesome and fluffy.

I’m probably not going to post again for a few days, I’m a bit worn out rn, but I’ll be back to writing soon!

anyway, love you all

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco angst #draco fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

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lab-trash · 2 years

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Mission Creek Mighty Med

Chapter three: The Perry Principal

Chapter List

Despite being there for three days, Skylar, Oliver and Kaz still hadn’t met the principal. Apparently she was sick, but Leo, Adam, Bree and Chase had warned them a bunch of times about her.

And much to everyone’s dismay, she returned.

“Listen up, Squat Mugs! I was gone for three days, so I gotta make up for the lost time of torture!” She exclaimed. Kaz snickered. “What are you laughing at, tee ball?” She asked, getting in his personal space, making him very uncomfortable.

“Oh, I just think the idea of that is funny,” He said with another small laugh. His new friends sucked air through their teeth.

“Oh, well, I think your hair is funny. Who cuts your hair, your mom?”

“No, actually. She thinks that scissors will get stuck in her eye,” Kaz responded with a laugh.

Everyone looked so afraid for him, but Perry laughed.

“I understand that fear,” She said, “Especially when I’m around! You wouldn’t believe how many times my hands have ‘slipped,’ with scissors in my hand,” She said, stepping away from Kaz. Chase, Bree and Leo watched in amazement and fear.

“Hey, me too!” Adam said with a smile.

“Well, I should get to my office. There’s some fungus I’ve been nursing back to health,” She said with a laugh before marching off to her office.

The three stared in amazement.

“How did you do that?” Leo asked, eyes wide. Kaz shrugged.

“I dunno,” He said, “But my boss says I charm everyone,” He said with another laugh.

He may have winked at Chase. But Chase may have been mistaken.

“He said he’s surprised you haven’t accidentally harmed anyone,” Oliver corrected. Kaz shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Well, both are true,” He said with a laugh.

“What are you talking about?” Skylar asked. “Remember ‘Leslie?’ He almost killed you.”

“That doesn’t count! That was on purpose!” He exclaimed. Immediately the bionic humans fell into worry.

“You almost got killed?” Bree asked. Kaz chuckled and put his hand on Bree’s shoulder.

“Multiple times,” He said before Bree swatted his hand away.

“What happened?” Chase asked, “Are you alright?” He added, stepping a bit closer. Kaz took a step back, making Chase immediately feel self conscious.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’m fine,” He said through a small laugh. “I had people to help me through it.”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, somewhat bitter, “It gets easy after a while.”

“You’ve saved his life?” Bree asked. Oliver nodded admittedly. “You just got cuter,” She teased, making Chase and Kaz roll their eyes in unison.

“Hey, I helped!” Skylar said defensively.

“I never said you weren’t cute,” Bree said, although Chase thought she was just people pleasing.

“Yeah, Connie, don’t worry,” Oliver said, “You’re cute.”

“I know what you think,” Skylar said.

“I’d say you’re cute, but I just think you’re cool,” Kaz said with a shrug. He confused stares. “No offence, Connie,” He added, although she knew it was just because he liked men.

He probably just wasn’t ready to be out at this new school yet. Like he hadn’t been at their old school.

“Next time you’re in trouble, you can call us,” Chase said to Kaz. “We’ll help in any way we can.” Bree hit him in the chest and he hit her arm in return.

“Oh, thanks,” Kaz said, “But I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble. And I have a lot of powerful friends, you wouldn’t even believe,” He said with a laugh. “Right, Oliver?” Oliver glared at him.

“Right,” He said, annoyed.

Kaz’s next interaction with Principal Perry was just as pleasant and confusing.

He, being Kaz, put a dead mouse on her desk. He thought it was hilarious, and even signed his entire first and last name.

Well, he tried to sign his full name, but got tripped up. So he just signed his nickname.

He didn’t even know how she reacted until she left her office, the mouse in hand.

Gross…

Awesome!

“Whoever Kaz is, who left this mouse on my desk!” She started. Kaz was immediately pushed forward by Oliver and Adam, turning in their friend. “Thanks!” She said with a laugh. “My cats love it when I bring them little treats!”

The bionic kids, plus Leo, were extra confused.

Kaz would’ve responded, almost equally as confused, but Perry spoke up.

“What’re you lookin’ at, Dooley?” She asked Leo, who put his hands up defensively as she stomped away.

Mr Davenport’s kids all approached Kaz in confusion.

“Okay, that one… I have no idea, that prank totally backfired,” He said with a laugh. Adam and Chase’s face lit up.

“Oh no…” Bree muttered as Chase leaned close to Kaz.

Kaz might’ve been flustered. But that doesn’t matter.

“We pull pranks like that all the time, you should totally join us,” He said with a smile that Kaz felt was contagious. “Just not on Perry. You haven’t seen it, but we’re pretty sure she’s killed some people.”

“That sounds…” He paused, making Chase anxious. “Awesome!” He exclaimed, making Chase’s smile return to his face. “But, I have to be honest. Oliver and Connie are also amazing at pranking,” He said, motioning to his friends. “Well, Skylar is. Oliver’s only okay.”

“Wha— Seriously Kaz? You know I’m the Governor of Giggles— You admitted it to yourself!” Kaz turned to him.

“Yeah! When I thought the world was ending! I thought we, and everyone else, were going to die, I was trying to make you feel better!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Chase said, putting his hand up, “Why did you think the world was ending?” He asked. Skylar laughed, putting her hand up.

“That would be my prank,” She said. Kaz nodded.

“She’s got a gift,” He said, putting his hand to his heart.

After that, the Davenports learned that, by some magical reason, Kaz just could not get in trouble by Principal Perry. No matter what he did, it was just appreciated.

It was honestly a nice change of pace for him. He always got in trouble with Principal Howard at their old school. He almost got suspended three times in a month, but he managed to talk his way out of it.

Chase theorised that it was because of Kaz’s experience with inmates. Two of Kaz’s brothers and one of his sisters were in jail, and he visited them sometimes. He’d met many inmates.

Maybe he had some sort of weird connection to them.

According to Chase, Perry definitely should’ve been in prison, and it was the only explanation that he could come up with.

#lab rats elite force #mighty med #lab rats #mcmm #mmmc #mission creek mighty med

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