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bisexualsforprompto · 4 years

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What’s in a Family?

Would you believe that I actually wanted to get through more content? This “Drabble” got a little out of hand lol. Honestly I don’t think I’ll continue this, sorry!

Thank you @abrx2002 for this amazing idea! You rock!

~~~~~

‘Playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne does it again.’ Thought Valentina Cross as she shoved her skinny jeans back on her. She looked back at Bruce who was still out like a light and sighed. She had a feeling she’d never see him again, but did she want to?

Almost a full month later Valentina cursed the rich man. She was pregnant.

Her parents would not be happy, not when she was only in her twenties. Valentina considered turning to her other family members, her grandparents would certainly tell her parents and her aunts and uncles as well, but there was one woman Valentina could always trust.

So Valentina showed up at her elder sister’s doorstep in Paris fresh off the boat from America. Only three months pregnant at the time, her sister vowed to look after her for the last six months and even take her newborn child.

But things didn’t go as planned. Some sick, cruel hand of fate dealt its cards. When Valentina was only one week away from her due date her sister went to run some errands and... never came back.

Callia Cross was pronounced dead from a car accident on the very day that Valentina went to the hospital. What felt like years later a newborn child with tufts of blue hair like her mother’s and beautiful bluebell eyes like her father’s was born. At first the doctor’s were afraid the child wouldn’t make it, but the lucky young girl did.

Valentina wasn’t so lucky.

Not even five minutes after her child was born Valentina was dead.

The unnamed baby was sent into the nursery while the doctors debated where to send her.

Valentina had no identification on her, she was a Jane Doe to everyone in Paris except her sister who couldn’t say a word unless it was to the worms.

Sabine Cheng and Tomas Dupain only wanted a child and one was sitting right before them. After years of trying to get pregnant with no success Sabine was ready to give up until she saw a small blue-eyed little girl staring at her with wide eyes as she was carted into a nearby room.

“Mother was a Jane Doe, we’ll have to send her to an orphanage or put her in foster care.” Sighed a petite doctor to her male coworker.

“It always breaks my heart with cases like these.” He responded before walking the baby into the nursery.

“Doctors Richmond and Poppy please report to the ER, code red.”

The doctors absentmindedly left the door open as they dashed past Tom and Sabine.

With shaky hands Sabine walked over to the baby girl who had never made it into the nursery. She picked her up and without a spoken word to Tom they silently made their way out of the hospital.

Sabine and Tom had underestimated the weight of having a child. They treated the baby from the hospital, who they named Marinette, as more of a burden than a blessing especially after Sabine succeeded in getting pregnant and brought Brigette Dupain-Cheng into the world.

With all the negligence her parents showed her in favor of her little sister, Marinette had a lot of free time on her hands. She was an inquisitive kid with practically nothing to do, so it was no surprise when she turned twelve, she started noticing things.

First off that she had blue eyes when her parents didn’t and Sabine had no blue eyes in her family so she didn’t even carry the gene. She also noticed that her blood type wasn’t possible when her Tom and Sabine couldn’t have possibly made AB blood.

Marinette kept digging, it took her two years but she finally figured out who her biological mother was under the noses of her “sister” and “parents”.

In a way Marinette was almost happy that Tom and Sabine weren’t related to her, they never acted like family to her. The only downside that Marinette could think of was that her mother had been categorized as a Jane Doe whose child was stolen. There wasn’t much to go on and there was no trace of who her father could be.

She was originally going to ask Max for help finding her birth father in hopes he was still alive and would want to meet his daughter, but it wasn’t possible when all that her class gave her since Lila came to the class was the cold shoulder. It was also the only thing her parents gave her, they didn’t even need Lila for an excuse to pay attention to Brigette over her.

Some days she wouldn’t even get back to the house because she was patrolling and fighting as Ladybug or cleaning up one of Chat’s messes and they didn’t even notice.

Chat was a whole other thing. After a few months of being the guardian of the miracle box Marinette, with the help of Tikki, found out that she had the power to make things better for herself. Maybe she couldn’t do anything about Tom and Sabine or her friends but she could make being Ladybug, the best part of her day, bearable for her.

She took Chat’s ring away. She wasn’t going to tolerate being sexually harassed and cleaning up after someone who was supposed to be helping any longer. She couldn’t say she was surprised to find Adrien the pacifist behind the mask. He was sad and slightly angry but he said he understood. Marinette wasn’t sure if he really did or maybe he had his own fantasy of why she had taken it away.

It was irrelevant. She should’ve known she wouldn’t last long as the sole savior of Paris especially with all the media asking about the former black cat wielder. She couldn’t survive much longer without help and Bustier’s class couldn’t be trusted anymore.

She was utterly alone. Lila ostrichsized her in class, her parents isolated her at home and she got rid of her partner. It got to the point where Marinette asked Tikki if she should give Adrien his ring back to which Plagg butted in and said no way in hell.

So Marinette did what she did when she felt alone, she researched. A big city in America sounded promising for her objective.

Kaalik opened her a portal for Gotham City. Ladybug’s mission was to find Batman or another hero and ask for something she hadn’t asked for in years: help.

It didn’t go as planned.

So there she was standing in front of a hero of Gotham, Robin, who she tied to a street light with her yo-yo.

“Are you ready to listen now?!” Marinette spat in perfect English. Robin scowled and furrowed his brows making him seem older than he actually was. Marinette was slightly annoyed that he had attacked her on sight and was acting all holier than thou on her when he couldn’t have been any older than her!

“I’m a hero from France named Ladybug, we are currently fighting a terrorist named Hawkmoth. I am the sole hero of Paris and I need some help.”

“TT. Not likely.” Frowned the boy. Marinette was about to blow a gasket when she heard a series of thuds behind her. She spun around to see the rest of the Batfamily in all their heroic glory.

‘I’m in for it now…’ Marinette thought when she realized that when the Bats saw Robin was tied up behind her they’d think she was a villain just like Robin did.

Batman stepped towards her slowly and held his hand out. Marinette looked at it quizzically.

“B you can’t be serious.” Said Nightwing.

“Yeah, that story’s obviously bullshit, we would’ve known about a crisis in Paris.” Red Hood frowned.

“We did.” Was all Batman said pressing his communicator into Ladybug’s hands, “Take this. The number for the Batcave is programmed into it. I assure you we will look into the situation. I was told by my colleague that it was nothing more than a hoax so if you’ll excuse me I have a green lantern to skin.”

“Thank you monsieur. I really mean it.” Marinette smiled blinking back tears. “Voyage.”

Ladybug placed on foot through the portal before remembering Robin. She retracted her yo-yo and stepped completely into it.

Marinette had no idea what to expect when Batman had said he would check Paris out. For all she knew the American army could be on their way.

What she wasn’t expecting was to bump into a boy the next day who looked very similar to her in facial structure. She pushed the thought away, he was only like her in stature and facial symmetry, she shared nothing else with him so it was probably just a coincidence.

He scowled at before going into Bustier’s room, she realized he must’ve been a new student.

She didn’t pay that much mind, he’d probably be a part of Lila’s web soon enough so there was no point in befriending him. She walked into the room to see her prophecy was already coming true, the emerald eyed boy was right at Lila’s desk.

She walked to the back of the class where she had been banished to. She shoved her books down before catching the conversation Lila and the new boy were having.

“So Damian, since you’re from America I bet you’ve heard of Bruce Wayne. Well…” she giggled and paused for dramatic effect, “I know him. I actually used to babysit his youngest, David.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “Unlikely as his youngest is your age and his name isn’t David.”

“Uh- I- ha ha!” Lila sputtered before laughing obnoxiously, “It seems we’re probably thinking of different Bruce Wayne’s.”

“It seems I don’t care, don’t talk to me again, got it?” Lila burst out into fake tears causing the rest of the class to glare at Damian. He simply rolled his eyes and went to the back of the class and sat next to Marinette.

“They’re like sheep.” He noted. Marinette nodded, “I think they’re dumber.” She mumbled under her breath. Damian smirked and turned to her.

“Damian Grayson.” Marinette beamed, “Marinette!”

“I think we’re going to get along fine.” He said before turning his attention to the front of the class.

A frazzled Miss Bustier ran into the class shortly after.

“Sorry class, I got a bit held up! Now I hear we have a new student!” She squinted at where Damian was sitting, “Damian why don’t you come down here and sit next to Lila?”

“The liar? No thanks.”

“Damian, that kind of behavior will not be tolerated. Marinette has been seen bullying Lila and I just want you to have a positive experience at DuPont!”

“Really? It seems to me like you’re an enabler. Marinette is perfectly capable and seems to have more brain cells than the rest of you.” Damian sneered with a ferocious protectiveness he hadn’t felt before except with his brothers and sisters.

Miss Bustier went into a flustered frenzy, opening and closing her mouth before she finally announced, “Alright class open your books to chapter three.”

“Predictable.” Damian scoffed beneath his breath.

“Thanks.” Marinette whispered.

“Don’t mention it.”

For a week Marinette and Damian’s small back and forth dialogue became increased. It made him a target for Lila but he didn’t seem to care. They’re friendship almost thrived on mocking Lila’s threats. Damian had many choice words for the flock of Lila’s followers as well. Marinette had been feeling a pull to him as if it was magic.

One night she thought it over, long and hard, could it have been miraculous magic?

“Tikki?” Marinette called.

“Yes Marinette?”

“I was wondering...I feel very connected to Damian but it’s hard to explain, it’s not like what I used to feel for Adrien, Luka or Kagami.”

Tikki sighed. “I’ve had my suspicions for awhile but this confirms it...I think Damian is your black cat. Every Ladybug and cat bond is different, more times than not it’s romantic but I think yours is platonic or even familial.”

“I guess that’s a relief in a lot of ways. Besides, dating Damian would be like dating my brother if I had one,” Marinette wrinkled her nose, “Though maybe I do…” She let out a long groan, “I wish I knew my birth father.”

“There, there Marinette. I’m sure you’ll know someday,” Tikki patted her back. “But as guardian it’s your decision to give Damian a miraculous or not, so we should focus on that. I know you’ve known him for a short time but do you think you can trust him?”

Marinette paused. Damian wasn’t an open person, in fact quite the opposite. He dodged the subject of his past, or gave her some small tidbits out of context. Damian had a good heart, that she could see, but it also felt tainted. But Marinette knew what made her a good guardian wouldn’t be stressing out over the choice or overanalyzing everything. That wasn’t how magic worked. “I think I can…”

The next night Kharaab made his debut as the new black cat. It was on the news and the Ladyblog quickly and spread like wildfire. She had given Damian a heads up beforehand, she had a feeling that when the news came out they’d have to face another akuma.

She was right. Chat Blanc, a jealous Adrien who missed his power, took hours to even make any slight headway. The moment Ladybug cast her lucky charm Chat Blanc had made a nasty gash in her stomach. Damian had trapped him out of pure rage and knocked him out. Disregarding the lucky charm which was nowhere to be found, Damian took Marinette back to the makeshift apartment he had been staying in. After detransforming, Damian consulted Plagg. The god of destruction told him that the only way she’d be saved was from a blood transfusion. Ladybug was passed out on his couch and if she detransformed it was likely that Marinette would bleed out faster and even die.

He took a test for her blood type himself, he had brought the necessary kits with him thank kwami. He quickly found out her blood type was AB, which was odd considering how rare it was and that he happened to share the same type. Though maybe that was just the luck of the miraculous...either way Damian didn’t waste time, he quickly fixed her and waited until she woke up.

“Damian?” Marinette asked groggily.

“Yes?”

“W-what happened?”

“Chat Blanc hit you, he’s currently unable to escape so I patched you up and gave you a blood transfusion, luckily we share some of the same DNA.” Marinette’s eyes lit up.

“D-Damian, Tom and Sabine...they aren’t my parents.”

“What?” Damian was taken aback.

“No...my birth mother died when I was born and I think Tom and Sabine stole me. I don’t know my birth father.”

Damian cleared his throat, “Well I guess now’s a good time to tell you that I haven’t been entirely truthful. My real name is Damian Wayne and my father is Bruce Wayne. I’m also Robin.” Marinette gaped. “Don’t look so surprised. The point is, it’s possible we are related but we probably aren’t, either way...I’d be proud to call you my sister.”

Marinette brushed a tear from her cheek, “T-thanks Damian.”

“Whatever,” He said avoiding eye contact, “Let’s go, we still have an akuma to beat.”

They made short work of Chat Blanc once Marinette found her lucky charm. She returned Adrien safely home and took Damian to her home to get Kaaliki.

“Are you going to tell your parents where you’re going?” Damian frowned as Marinette got ready to open the portal. Marinette gave him a small smile.

“T-they don’t really love me. They’ve never been my family…”

“I can get my father’s lawyers for a lawsuit. Stealing a child is illegal.”

“I know Damian, but Brigette. They love her. She’s the closest thing I’ve had to a sister even if they always chose her over me. I don’t want her to grow up alone and hating the world because her parents are out of the picture.” The dangling ‘like I did,’ that Marinette hadn’t spoken was deafening.

“If my father is yours...I’m going to face him with my blade for not giving you the life you should’ve had.”

“Thanks Damian, but if my hunch is correct whoever my father really is had no idea I existed.” Damian nodded before making a motion as if to say, ‘go ahead.’

“Voyage.”

They were standing in the bat cave. Marinette quickly undid her transformation in front of the many bats before her.

“Father, this is Marinette.” Damian introduced as he walked near his father, “You know her better as Ladybug but I believe you could also know her as your biological daughter.”

~~~~~~

Taglist

@northernbluetongue

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@luciferge

@legendaryneckjudgestudent

@interobanginyourmom

@beaversuenightly

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@mochinek0

@shamefullove

@emjrabbitwolf

@actual-disaster-human

@littleredrobinhoodlum

@elijahcoser

@daminett4life

@mochegato

#maribat #bio! dad Bruce Wayne

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leanarg · 4 years

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Practice Challenge II

((Hi again! So, these are 3 fics in one post! Including my first two rps with @ladyreggiewright (our very first one after ages not doing this so asdfghk) and with @wylan-caldwell I had so much fun doing both, so thank you, guys! <3 Thanks for reading too, hope you enjoy them as much as I stuggled writing them ;P Google Docs link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ARTjqveFJ1njDc2LL0PU4C0ShN2jlO9JC1Imt9MDTh8/edit?usp=sharing ))

A CHANGE OF LUCK

“Alright, y’all ready?” Rita said with a loud voice vibrating with nervousness. “The speeches are over. In the next block, Prince Arin will be picking the names.” That was her fifth lap around the entertainment office floor and she just couldn’t stop repeating what Vandy Post had already announced before each round of commercials. I knew she was trying to act authoritative, but seeing her in this state was always amusing.

It wasn’t unusual that the building was bursting with energy this late at night. The pre-press team always stayed working on putting together the bulldog broadsheets content and adding the last details, then sent the whole thing before the deadline to the press team operating on the last floor, where they were all in charge of the printing process. I would dare to say there was activity in this place 24/7. But this particular night, we were focused on The Report. The streets looked almost empty from up here, everyone was at home in front of their TV waiting for the names of the lucky girls randomly picked by a drawing of names out of different crystal boxes. 35 provinces, 35 boxes, 35 names.

My attention had been focused on Arin’s stern expression. His life was about to be decided by fate, or as many people want to call it, destiny. I wonder what was he thinking, standing there expressionless, willing to uphold his duty.

Is he excited? Is he nervous? Is he wishing he could run away from that room and leave all this tradition behind?

My name was inside of one of the boxes, so I should had been even more anxious and edgy than Rita herself, but, after the PET Gala fiasco, where: I hadn’t gotten the clues I was so close to getting, I hadn’t finished the job I was supposed to be doing and my one month salary had been reduced to half; I was certain that whoever was in charge of my luck was not very fond of me.

“They are back!” Rita shouted as soon as Arin’s face reappeared. Everyone in the room fell silent. I scoffed a laugh when I noticed them unconsciously leaning slightly towards the big tv, but I ended up doing the same after adjusting my glasses. One by one the basic information of the selected were being transcribed from the screen to our devices as Arin picked out their papers.

<< “From Allens, Idalia Moretti, from Angeles, Emily Rose White,... from Honduragua, Callia Adair…” >>

My fingers were moving fast across my cellphone’s keyboard. These were the girls we would be hearing a lot about from now on and I needed to know everything about them.

<< “From Labrador, Lea…” >>

I froze. My head felt dizzy trying to take in what I had just heard. For the shortest of seconds, everyone’s eyes were on me. I could hear Rita’s voice instructing them to get back to work and maybe someone else was now in charge of The Globe’s blog but at that moment I couldn’t care less about that.

It’s really happening... I made it to the selection!

Finally, I could stand up. I was feeling so much energy inside me that I wanted to run. Suddenly, the lift made a sound and my dad came quickly out of it and … wait, my mom is here? She was carrying my sleepy little brother, Dean.

I could read the shock on my parents’ faces.“I’m in!!” I said a little too loud but since Mr. Grant was there no one dared to complain. My dad let out a short laugh before extending his arms for an embrace. “Congratulations, Rosie, I knew it would happen, didn’t I tell you V?” He said to my mom. “Grants always get what they want.”

Ugh, I wish. But I wasn’t going to argue with him right now, so I just offered him a wink.

As soon as my father let go, my mom surrounded me with her free arm. “So how does it feel to be a lady, huh? We have to celebrate this!”

“Well, do ladies feel hungry this late? Cause I wasn’t feeling it a moment ago.” “Yes, let’s leave these guys to work in peace.” my dad said suddenly remembering where we were. After clearing his throat as if that simple gesture was a switch between the dad and the boss, he talked with Rita to make sure someone had replaced me updating the blog, then he congratulated everyone for their dedication and finally wished them good night. “I just hope you are paying me the full day,” I said to my dad as we all headed outside.

“I mean, are you working right now?” He raised an eyebrow, mockingly.

I sighed “I guess Grants can’t always get what they want after all.” And I meant it in more than one way.

The next week ran fast. My father and I agreed that I had to keep going to the office as usual, but it wasn’t easy to balance my work and my phone ringing every 5 minutes. More than once I had to ride home in the middle of the day because someone was waiting for me at home.

First, a man with a very peculiar face came to do some kind of interrogation, which was understandable until we got to the most uncomfortable, personal ones. I almost spit my coffee laughing until I realized he had no intention to leave until he got every answer to each one of the questions on his list.

Like him, I received a tailor and a doctor; but it wasn’t until the press started to ask for interviews when I realized my life had made a turn of 360 degrees.

The thing I lamented the most about this odd schedule was that I couldn’t travel to the provinces to interview some of the selected as we had planned, but I did take advantage of every opportunity I had to do deep research about them.

Some of the names or last names could be found on old newspaper editions, there were tragedies, accomplishments, unfortunate events… I smiled to myself, while I made annotations on my journal, fascinated by all the different interesting lives that were about to gather under the same roof. And I guess somehow that included mine.

The farewell party organized by Labrador’s Mayor seemed more like a political campaign than a real party. I might have fallen asleep during his speech if I hadn’t been texting Harris for the 40th time that week.

The last time I knew something about him was the night of the announcement when he sent me a simple “Congratulations, Lady Lea.” Then as the photographer, he had to go with Rea to the half-tour over the country to cover the selected interviews.

“How dare you not be here when you are needed,... you lucky mooncalf.”

I looked up to see the crowd from my place on the big platform set in the middle of the Amberly park. It hadn’t been a very good idea, because there were grey clouds gathering over us and the sun was partially covered by them already.

Someone forgot to check the weather section today.

But the trees surrounding us were decorated with purple and green metallic balloons -the colors of our province- and there were several signs with good wishes so I appreciated the effort.

Everyone was here; The Globe employees that didn’t like me at all, my family on the first row, my college best friend, Liv had made space on her busy schedule to come to the event, even my grandmother had sent his chauffeur with presents. That was her way to show support and I honestly didn’t have any complaints. After the Mayor’s speech, the great boss Maxwell Loyd took the microphone to speak, I rolled my eyes, not caring about the people in front of me. He didn’t waste this opportunity to promote himself and flatter me. I mean, if he really had thought all that about me I would have had a promotion and a raise already, instead I just got ridiculous instructions and a handshake.

When they both finally finished, the rain had started to pour, plus it was almost time for me to leave for the airport. I buttoned my coat before taking my place behind the microphone to start talking, but the eyes of the lady in charge of my schedule forced me to skip until the end of the speech I had prepared the night before. Every time I was going to make it sound deep and sentimental she made a sign for me to hurry.

“I appreciate your support… I will do my best… thank you for coming.”

Were the only complete sentences I managed to say under such pressure. There was clapping and cheering afterwards, but there was after the previous boring speeches as well, so I didn’t get too excited about that.

“Have a good time, my Lea.” My mother said after kissing my brow. I could smell her sweet perfume that I was going to miss. “I will, mom. Take care, I’m only leaving cause I know you are going to be in charge.” I side eyed the two men of the house. Then I kissed my little brother and messed his blond hair. “Bye bye little toad.” He just babbled something and waved his little hand.

“So, Lady Grant. What do you expect from Prince Arin? Do you secretly plan to drink all the coffee from the Angele’s Palace? Rumor has it your father won’t let you marry until you turn 48 years old do you think Your Highness would wait for you that long?” “Wow, Mr. Grant you ask pretty basic questions, I have been asked the same ones all week.” He gave me a big tight hug and I ignored the wool of his coat feeling itchy on my cheek. “I’m very proud of you Leana, and of course I’m not talking about this selection situation… I’m sorry about-” I stopped him not wanting to have our little disagreements as today’s last memory. And I also hoped I could change his mind by the time I returned home. “We can talk about that when I come back, dad.” He nodded. “I’m starting to feel bad for our dear Prince Arin.” I scoffed a laugh.

“Lady Grant, we are past the established hours already.” I heard a lady behind me.

I turned to my friend Liv with an apologetic expression but she just smiled and waved. “I will text you… Bye! The rain started to fall harder but I had read the weather section on the paper this morning so I was properly dressed with boots and a coat over my white shirt and black pants.

I walked towards a guard who was holding an opened umbrella to cover us with it. He opened the door of the car. Then he offered to take my bag for me, but I had packed some of my old journals in there among my personal things. “Thank you… What’s your name?” “Finn Ray, my lady.” He answered confused. “I will keep this here with me, Finn.” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone before entering the car. I guessed he was new at guarding selected, because I noticed him turning to look at the woman in charge of the schedule. She nodded once at him and joined me inside the limousine.

By the time we got to the airport I had learned that our chauffeur was called Alan Cobb, he had been working for the palace for 3 years on special occasions. He had three kids and his wife was expecting a baby girl.

The strict lady was Miss Ramirez, she was happily single, obviously tardiness was her biggest pet peeve and she had worked there for 6 years already, but she enjoyed her job and had never thought of doing anything else, although I didn’t quite understand exactly which was her role in the royal offices of Labrador.

She left me at the boarding door after wishing me luck.

The flight to Angeles was long. I shared a plane with 3 others selected, that seemed pretty decent at first sight.

We had a polite introduction conversation before we took off, but then everyone focused on her own thing; Jen Li, -the Yale law student from Waverly- took advantage of the 8 hours flight to sleep. Alana Hansen looked out from the window almost the whole time lost in her thoughts, and based on the green tone on Regina Wright’s face I guessed she was a risky company for the moment.

I remembered I had read about her parents' unfortunate plane accident in an old newspaper, they used to be famous politicians and she was an apple that had fallen close to the tree. Hopefully not too close.

So, considering my options I prefer to write in my journals during the whole trip.

As soon as we arrived we were hurried to a room for makeovers. For me it felt more like a day in the salon, nothing drastic was made, just a few lights on my hair, perfect makeup and a stunning blue dress with matching elegant pump heels shoes.

They did insisted on giving me contact lenses, since I had forgotten to pack mine, so after a long argument with the stylist, Mariel, I decided to wear the contacts and let him enjoy “his creation”.

In the end, despite the little changes, when he showed me my reflection in the mirror, I had to recognize I was content with the upgraded version of me.

ESSENTIAL RESEARCH

The tour around the palace was quite short considering its size. I was almost sure that it was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, but the curiosity to see my new room, made me settle with the basic information,

I took a glance down at the little map on my hand. Eloise Hall room 28, second floor. As I headed to the stairs, the decorations and fancy details surrounding me were impossible to ignore. With every step you could find paintings by famous old artists -my mother admired- hanging on the walls, expensive vases and beautiful furniture.

Looking around I spotted one of the selected quickly scribbling some notes in a notebook. As I got closer I noticed she was my plane mate, Regina Wright. Her green tone had disappeared or maybe covered with makeup and she looked much more secure now that we were down here on earth soil.

I laughed a little bit inside walking by her side “Hope whatever you are writing is worth a bump on your head.”

“I hope so too” She said absentmindedly, not looking up from her notebook. After some seconds she took a short look at me, flipped through her notebook and quickly closed it before I could react and lean discreetly to read what she was working on.

Okay, now I’m curious.

“Excuse me, hi. Leana is it?” She gave me a polite smile.

“Yes, feeling better... Regina..? I asked faking ignorance.

She looked at me as she didn’t know why I was asking her that but then just answered, “Splendid. But please, call me Reggie.”

We continue walking up the stairs towards the second floor, while we shook hands,

“I'm Leana Grant but you can call me Lea or Lee” I said touching the arc of my glasses I had put back on as soon as I left the makeover room.

She nodded. “Alright, Lea. Journalist, correct?” She made her pen click as if she was going to start writing again. I frowned, puzzled. “You too?”

She chuckled at the question as if I should already know who she was. And the truth was, I did.

“No,” she finally said, opening her notebook again, adding something, then she continued. “So, what brings you here?”

I was sure Reggie had many qualities but subtlety wasn’t one of them.

I pressed my lips together, thinking about my motives, which one of them should I tell her? I’m here as an inside informant for The Globe; or, I’m here to live and learn about this whole selection phenomenon… I didn’t even know which one was the right answer. “... just figured I couldn't miss this whole thing, you know.”

Half- truths are always safe.

“Are you here for politics?” I added before she could even think about my answer.

She looked pleasantly surprised by my question, clearing her throat. “Yes, that is one of the reasons.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You did your research.”

I guess it was my turn to feel recognized, but unlike her I didn’t want to be so obvious, so I shrugged. “Your name rang a bell.”

She looked at me suspiciously, lifting her chin, a slight movement I didn’t quite understand. “Is that so? That's good, I suppose. Best to be prepared.”

“Maybe you are right, I guess you actually did your research. What do you have about me?” I asked directly now, pointing at her notebook casually.

She remained serious. “Oh, just the usual. Occupation, caste, age. Name, obviously. There's 35 of us after all. Would be a shame to get anyone mixed up.”

“Well, now most of us are threes and the twos are pretty well known.”

“Yes well, obviously. Was to be expected. It's still an appropriate mix.”

Her statement made me remember her parents somehow, obviously she had their school but I wonder how much she agreed with them. “That’s... a word to describe it, yes.” I answered incredulous, “So where are you staying?” I asked, as I noticed I have already found my room.

We discovered we were room neighbors which I decided was very convenient for me. I liked people who have answers to my questions.

She was concerned about my acoustic guitar hobby and I assured her I hadn’t brought mine with me. “The music room will do.” And she assured me her studying was going to be silent.

The conversation continued but my curiosity was already unbearable, so I opened the door of my room to check it out. I didn’t want to be rude so I invited Reggie inside as we talked.

“What are you working on?” I stepped inside

She followed. “Political Science Major.”

I gave her a glance to let her know that was not the answer I was looking for.

She blinked with realization. “Oh, I see I misunderstood. Well, actually I was just writing a paper on the pros and cons of capitalism and if our country should focus more on it like we did when we were still called the 'United States'” She air quoted the name.

I looked around my room considering her answer. Suddenly my eyes met with three maids standing in line in the middle of the room. When they saw us they made a courtesy and I nodded at them as a greeting, hoping we can have proper introductions later.

“Hmm the lesser of evils... but the United States not exactly an example to be followed.” I said to Reggie.

“Exactly.” She said. I noticed her writing a mark in her notebook.

“A-are you like grading me?” I dared to ask what I had suspected since the beginning, but I didn’t want to believe. It was shocking at first but after the third mark it became amusing.

“Who else do you have in there?” I asked curiously before running next to her to peek at her notebook. She closed it again. When I looked at her she smiled at me awkwardly “No, of course not. Just remembered something.” Her notebook was behind her back, now out of my reach. She straightened her shoulders before adding, “Well, thank you kindly for your invitation, glad to have met you…”

I stayed there confused, Had I gotten it wrong? Or was I right and she didn’t want me to know? Anyway, I should have said nothing. “Alright ... glad to meet you too, see you around.” I said worried that she might be uncomfortable now.

She nodded as she headed to the door. One of the maids hurried to hold the door for her.

I frowned concerned, I couldn’t just lose a source like her. “Wait for me tomorrow, I think we can walk to the dining room together.”

She turned to give me a frown, seemingly confused by my suggestion. “But I already know where it-” then she smiled. “I will.”

As soon as Reggie left I took out the journal from the pocket of my dress and tossed on the pretty desk by a large window where I peered at the view of the Angeles city.

FOR THE RECORD.

After introductions my maids brought me dinner up to my room. So while I was eating the best creamy mustard chicken I ever had, we had a little chat.

Among other things we talked about I expressed my surprise when I didn’t see any Royals when we arrived. Liberty, Camila and confirmed the Schreaves didn’t plan to meet any selected tonight, we would have to wait until morning. Queen Anjeli and Princess Ayesha had to leave the palace to attend important matters and Wylan Caldwell in spite of not being a selected was currently living in the Palace. Back in Labrador, I managed between college, work and extra work to fill my schedule, my mother never liked me being out of the house so late at night or sometimes not being able to have a complete breakfast in the morning, I enjoyed being busy and drive my Vespa from one place to another, but it was hard for me to admit that one of the reasons I liked my life that way was that besides when I was concentrated writing notes on my iTypewriter; I was not good at being alone with my thoughts. That’s why when I was a child my mother bought me a ukulele to play when I was feeling anxious, which gave excellent results. Later when I entered college I took a short guitar course with the same purpose.

Therefore, later that afternoon, when my maids went back to their chores, leaving me alone I decided to leave my room to check out the music room, as I promised Reggie I would do.

It took me some minutes to find the right door downstairs but my memory had never failed me and it wasn’t going to start now.

I opened the third door in the west hall and peeked inside. I felt relieved when I saw the big piano in the last corner and dared to walk inside. Besides the piano, there were several instruments resting on their stands spread around the room, most of them to play classical music, but luckily, an acoustic guitar was among them. I was going to pick it up to test it when I spotted shelves full of old vinyl records.

I walked towards the vinyl record player, it had a beautiful vintage look, it’s big horn imitated the ancient gramophones used during the Victorian years, but I suspected to be a more recent model.

I noticed someone had left a classic record on, I wonder which one of the Royals had been listening to it as I moved the tonearm onto the outer edge of the disk, the little diamond tip to touch the groove.

I guess I still remember how to use one of this.

I stretched my arm and pulled one of the discs from the upper shelf, the others came down with it and << "KNEEE-KNEEE!!" >>

The blaring sound of violins vibrated around the room making me wince for the annoying sound filling my ears.

“Damn!” I covered my ears while trying to find a way to turn the bloody record player off before my head exploded. Overwhelmed by the sound I went on my knees and stretched my hand behind the furniture looking desperately for the plug, but before I could find any the music stopped.

I stood up still touching my ears

Have I gone deaf?

“I take you didn’t mean to do that.” I heard someone say behind me.

Okay, I haven’t

I turned around to find a guy eyeing me warily, from the corner of my eye I noticed a laptop and a couple of heavy leather books that weren't on the table before.

“I was considering turning it on but it made the decision for me,” I said without explaining.

At that moment, a couple of guards came into the room alarmed. They scanned the room quickly before looking at us puzzled.

Wylan followed my gaze and turned to them, slightly. “Just a mishap. We’re fine.” He acknowledged with a wave of his hand. I let out a sigh of relief as they left the room to return to their posts.

“First time using a record player?” He asked to continue teasing

I gave him a deadpan look. “Ha-ha I take that the last person who played it had some hearing problems.” Before I crouched to pick up the rest of the vinyl records still scattered on the carpeted floor, I noticed a smile tugging at his lips that didn’t last.

In a minute he was bending in front of me to help. “You picked some good ones.”

Suddenly we looked at each other for a second, I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at his for a second trying to figure any sign of sarcasm in them, and he just had the word “awkward” written all over his face. Obviously I was making him feel uncomfortable.

I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so busy trying to read him.

“I like classics- acoustic to be precise.” I finally said with a shrug. “Do you own any of these?”

“This John Mayer one is mine. I have some other ones too. They’re over there.” He gestured to the rack behind me, then stood up with the vinyls he helped pick up.

I raised my eyebrow and nodded approvingly. “You have some taste, I will give you that.” I looked up at him, waiting for him to offer his hand for me to help me stand, but apparently living in a castle was no guarantee of anything, so I just stood up slowly, brushing my dress.

“Some were gifts I grew to love.” He acknowledged, holding the vinyls out for me. “I’d recommend keeping the volume down before you turn it on next time.”

I took the discs to put them back in its place on the shelves “Well, you should put a sign somewhere,” I joked, a bit annoyed by his recommendation.

I adjusted my glasses and stayed standing there, admiring the vinyl records once more. My curious mind wondered about the Prince. “Which ones are Arin’s?”

“I’m not sure. He might not own any.” I caught him glancing at his things he had left on the table before back to me. “Might be a good question to ask him yourself.”

Or you’re just evading the question. But fortunately, one of the things my job had teached me was to have thick skin so I wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

“You really don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?” I asked with an amusing tone.

He let out a small sigh, relenting a bit. “He likes The Killers. There’s probably a vinyl or two of those in here if you really need a good conversation starter.”

I faked a grimace “ugh! that piece of information should’ve hurt…” I said mockingly before adding. “I guess some advice for tomorrow’s interview is completely out of the table.”

“Depends on what advice you’re looking for,” he let out, surprising me.

I started to walk around the room still looking at him, considering my answer. “I don’t know, you are his friend... knowing a little bit about his personality would help,” I said casually, as if I didn’t already have thousands of questions listed in my head.

But somehow he knew I did. “I’ll answer one question you have. Just one.”

“So generous …” I said more to myself than to him. My hand went unconsciously inside the pocket on my dress and my fingers touched my journal inside of it, purely out of habit. Of course, I wasn’t going to take it out so I crossed my hands in front of me as I resumed my walking around the room.

“Okay…” In my mind I was looking for a single question that could indirectly tell me things about Arins personality … and why not about Mr. Uncomfortable himself too.

“How do you start getting along back in college, like how did you become friends?”

Suddenly he let out a laugh, startling me. I frowned at first, but then I decided it wasn’t so bad, it picked my curiousness further.

I looked at him genuinely amused and he begined, “We were both going for runs and without knowing, I drifted a little too close. I was listening to music and not paying attention. His bodyguard sort of…” He paused to bring his fist to his neck simulating a punch. “And took me down.” I could see he was amused, for real.

I laughed picturing the scene on my mind, considering all his previous teasing and had to admit it was a little bit entertaining to do so. “Ouch! His bodyguard does look ... fierce.” I commented remembering the man’s complexion I had seen several times on TV.

I wait for him to continue before asking, “what happened next? What did Arin say?”

His smile was more like a ghost on his face now, not physically there but somehow still present. “He apologized. After that we found out we shared a couple classes together and I offered to help him study for exams.”

“That’s an epic story… I bet it left you marked for some days.” I made a grimace, touching my neck, imagining the pain.

“Swallowing hurt, to say the least,” he said, remembering. After a minute, he combed a hand through his hair. “ Did that satisfy your question?”

“Hmm yeah, it was good, for now” I answered scoffing a laugh. The truth was I didn’t expect to enjoy his story that much, but I just couldn’t settle with only one question, but it wasn’t convenient to push more questions on him now.

Fortunately he didn’t refuse, he just rolled his eyes at me, amused. “Alright, well I have to get back to work. At least try to not deafen the entire palace again.”

“I can’t promise anything.” I let out, finally taking the acoustic guitar from its stand, while he turned to gather his things.

“Reassuring.” He gave me a side glance and started walking out the room, he offered a two fingered salute before disappearing behind the opened door.

After a second, while looking down at the guitar already in place on my lap, I compelled, “Wylan... thanks!”

“You're welcome.”

I heard him say from the hallway just before I started strumming the guitar strings, hoping its sound was enough to help me survive the first night.

#OC 6 #PC part 2 #Reggie Wright #Wylan Caldwell #((thanks again to Cassey for reading and giving me some perspective ))

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splat-dragon · 4 years

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Whumptober 2019, #16: "Pinned Down" Bad Things Happen Bingo: "Claustrophobia"

Arthur should have known not to attempt a good deed. It never went well for him.

And this time, he couldn't even blame it on anyone else. Only truly awful timing.

Down in a hole and I don't know if I can be saved

Arthur found the first corpse not far from Valentine.

Well, he wouldn’t really call it a corpse. Part of a corpse, maybe. Either way, considering the vultures circling overhead, and the way it had been hung over a decently traveled path, he didn’t know how it wasn’t found sooner.

‘Look On My Works!’ the rock had said, scrawled next to the lower half of the torso.

He didn’t know why he stuck his nose in. He’d reported the corpse to the sheriff, and any other time he’d have considered that his good deed for the day and been done with it.

But the sight of the corpse, that map, and the letter he’d found on the ground… and the writing had said works, not work, so there were more corpses, surely?

Maybe it was curiosity, or some long lost morals, wanting to make up for some of the murders he’d had no choice but to commit. But he hadn’t thought to give the map to the sheriff, and so he mounted his horse and set out for Strawberry.

And there he found the next corpse. As mutilated as the first, with a map well, part of one, in its mouth. Holding it side by side with the first, he nodded—just one more, if he was right, and he’d have the whole map. He notified the Strawberry Sheriff, too, gun at the ready for fear of being recognized, before heading down to Rhodes.

Some part of him was morbidly amused that he found the final corpse on the Braithewaite estate. Granted, he’d be happier if there was no corpse at all but, if he had to pick somewhere to find a corpse, that old bitch’s precious estate would be up there.

The last corpse found, he matched the maps up, and

‘Can you find me?’

the sick bastard wanted to be found, apparently, and it set him on edge. He felt he should go get back-up—Charles, maybe?—but, no, he had taken this on himself, and he wasn’t going to drag Charles into anything. And anyone else would just laugh at him, he thought. So he told the Sheriff (the man blanched at the sight of him, didn’t make a movement to arrest him or pull his gun, and he could have laughed) that there was a corpse to collect, and headed out.

He knew exactly where to go, recognized the shack marked down on the map, and if he rode his horse at a lope he could make it before sun-down.

And he did, long before, actually. Checking his pocket watch, he had about an hour until sun-down, and he planned to be well gone before then; he didn’t much care to be trapped with a serial killer in the dark.

Arthur patted his mare on the neck, tied her to a nearby tree that was out of sight of the shack, made sure he had plenty of ammunition and that his guns were loaded before approaching the shack, gun at the ready. He’d checked, and there were no horses or wagons in the area, but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t inside.

The shack was broken down, blown out, and so he stepped carefully around it, sweeping his gun as he went. It didn’t take him long to find the entrance to the basement, reaching down to tug on the handles, nodding when he found them unlocked and quickly yanking them open, stepping back and aiming his gun into the darkness.

Nothing moved, but there was an awful blast of rank air, stale and faintly reeking of blood, death and decay. His stomach churned, and Arthur took a moment to wrap his bandanna around his face—it wouldn't keep all of the smell out, but it helped to mute it—before making his way down into the basement, every instinct screaming ‘Run! Run! Run!’

It was definitely a serial killer's lair, he couldn’t help but to think. There were bones scattered on the ground, and he didn’t stop to determine if they were animal or human or some mix of both; body parts hung on butcher’s hooks, and scattered on the shelves were bloodied pieces of clothing, and some part of him knew they were trophies.

Grimacing, he switched his gun to one hand, and began to take photos. He needed to go get the sheriff, if he didn’t get ahold of the serial killer, but he needed evidence to show Malloy to convince him to come with him. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to spend his film on, but it was a worthy cause.

There was a groan, and Arthur stilled.

How long had he been down here? He glanced at his pocket watch, but it was too dark to tell.

Another groan, and Arthur looked up, drawing his gun. That was far too loud to be coming from a man walking on the shack. ‘Time to go,’ he thought, and pocketed his camera, moving to jog towards the stairs, but there was another groan, much louder than the others, an awful crashing sound, and then he knew nothing at all.

When he woke, it was so dark he feared he’d gone blind.

He squinted, blinked a few times, confirmed that his eyes were open. But still it was dark, he didn’t see black but saw nothing at all, not even sticks or stones or the ceiling who knew how far above him. “‘lo?” he croaked, trying to gather his bearings, trying not to panic.

Arthur licked his lips, anxiety building in his chest, eyes darting this way and that, and then—light?

Light!

Oh, thank god!

So he wasn’t blind, oh, oh thank god. He refused to be another Uncle, just lazing around camp, unable to help them.

His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark, and he squinted them shut for a long moment, before opening them again. He could barely make out a small, small hole up above him, light streaming through a hole, gleaming on the dust motes.

And—he shifted his arms—something uncomfortably clammy and cold and tacky pressed against his hand. “G’d,” he slurred, trying to draw his hand back, stilling as something above him groaned loudly.

What… had happened? He’d been trying to leave, he remembered, when everything went dark.

Something dug into his back, and Arthur braced himself up on his elbows—or, at least, tried to. He cried out a gasp, finding even that hard, feeling as though there were a dead horse sprawled across his chest.

Boudiccea had been shot by one of the lawmen, and Javier was leaping off of Boaz to shove her off of him

He managed to wrench his arm loose, pressing against what felt like a big chunk of stone? that pressed painfully against his ribcage. His fingers pressed against… that was wood, wasn’t it?

Had the basement collapsed on him?

Everything pointed to yes. From the rock and the wood that left him breathless, to the corpse that kept pressing against his hand.

“Sh’t.”

Was Callia okay? He could only hope she was, he’d tied her down a fair distance away from the shack after all.

Agh, shit, his legs hurt. Something was sitting on one of them, and he tried to shift his leg. Blinding pain shot up his spine, a breathless scream tearing loose from his chest, broken, broken, it was definitely broken.

Okay, he had to do this carefully.

Arthur brought his hands up, bracing them against the debris that sat on his chest. He left his broken leg still, dug in his other heel as best he could from his awkward position, and began to push

and pushed

and pushed.

His back scraped against the ground, he felt sharp stones tear into his flesh, but he didn’t stop pushing until his arms were screaming and his lungs were burning. Only then did he drop his arms to the ground, flinching when his hand hit—yeah, that was definitely another hand, clammy and tacky and cold.

He… he was stuck.

Oh, god, he was trapped.

He’d never been one for being bothered by small spaces, but as the debris pressed heavier and heavier on his chest, as his breathing sounded louder and louder in his ears, only challenged by the thundering of his heartbeat, as the basement felt warmer and warmer, sweat trickling down his face, he began to feel more and more panicked.

Oh god, he was never getting out of here, was he?

Arthur tried, again, to shove the debris off of him, gasping, finding it harder and harder to breathe, but it didn’t so much as budge. Dropping it, he choked on a sob, adrenaline rushing through his veins, wanting nothing more than to run and to hide and to curl into a ball, and gagged, turning his head to the side and heaved stomach acid onto the floor, gasping and struggling to catch his breath again.

“H’lp,” he gasped,

His fingers were going numb, was the debris cutting off circulation? Was he going to make it out of here, only to end up having to have Hosea cut off his fingers from gangrene? His toes now, too, oh god what if he had to have his toes cut off as well?

And his chest was hurting, stabbing pains that didn’t have anything to do with the debris, god was he having a heart attack? Was he going to die of a heart attack here, alone, never to be found, just one unclaimed corpse among who knows how many? He’d always wanted to die protecting his family, not in a ridiculous mishap trying to do good for once.

“Help!” the word was little more than a rasp,

“HELP!” the sound tore out of his chest, so loud it burned, and he waited, hoping, praying, that someone would hear him,

But there was no response.

“Please, someone!”

Arthur had never been someone to beg, but he had never been someone to be claustrophobic, either. He had also, however, never been trapped, alone, in the basement of a serial killer, crushed beneath a fallen-in shack, with countless mutilated corpses.

“Someone, anyone, help me, please!” he pushed, futily, at the debris,

“Hosea!” Hosea was far, far away, down at Clemens’ Point, probably sweet-talking Lady Braithewaite, “Dutch!” and Dutch was far away, too, probably making plans or talking his way into the sheriff’s pocket, “Please! Please, I’m here! Please, help me!”

There was no answer, and his throat burned from his screaming.

“Someone, please! I’m down here! Please, help me!”

He called, and he screamed, and he pleaded.

But no one came.

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splat-dragon · 5 years