god save the queen

Lock shrugged as he honestly couldn’t care less. “Not my problem, is it.” Letting out a slight chuckle as he watched the girl lean over him, he thought she’d fight harder to get him to pass it but he was clearly wrong there. “You’re welcome, love.”

     she uncaps the gloss, drawing the sticky pink liquid across her lips with practiced precision. pale eyes slide toward the boy and sara frowns, not as amused as he is. “fuck off, then? like, what’s the point, huh?”

Madge looks over at the pink lipgloss and grabs it before handing it to the other girl. “Why is this MAC thing such a popular name, I don’t get it.”

     sara takes it with false gratitude as she presses one hand against her hair for a moment before beginning to apply the gloss in a thick layer across her lips. “because mac makes fucking quality makeup, that’s why. where do you buy makeup from, target?”

“Pass me that lip gloss, please. Am I gonna get a please? No? Then get it your fucking self. I’m not your lip gloss lackey, alright. You have arms, reach over and grab it or don’t get it at all.”

     sara looks over at him, eyelashes still held firmly in place by the curler. “does it look like i have a free hand right now?” she asks primly, voice only a touch venomous as she rolls her eyes while remaining very still. another second passes before she releases her lashes and reaches over him to grab the lip gloss. “thanks.”

     ed wasn’t going to question why he was suddenly in new york city. it suited him far better than arkham had, and here he was finally free again. whatever had taken place in gotham wasn’t his concern right now. he’d still been locked up in his room. it didn’t matter now. he was out of that place and far from hugo strange and his unnerving experiments. “do you want to hear a riddle?? if you have me, you want to share me. if you share me, you haven’t got me. what am i??”

     “uhhhm, i didn’t ask, creep?” sara doesn’t like riddles - they’re stupid and repetitive and everyone only asks the same, like, four over and over again while thinking they’re super clever or something. “it’s a fucking secret, did you only spend three minutes on google looking for riddles? because that was, like, so weak. if you’re gonna ask random people questions on the street like some freak you should at least put some effort into it.”

‘ if you’re thinking this is red kool - aid, you’re greatly mistaken … ’ kol sighed, eyes glued to his own glass as he swayed the last bit of blood in his cup. though the curse was lifted and his blood lust was set at bay, kol truly wanted to be off the warm blood straight from the source. he wanted to be different, he wanted to make another proud. ‘ bloody hell this is far worst than being deprived of it all together. ’ he sighed to himself.

     “that’s fucked up!” she says it like that’s a good thing as she peers into the cup and grins. “like, blood and kool-aid are a totally different consistency, only a fucking idiot would think that’s punch. why are you drinking it? are you like, queen bathory style weird or something?” the sight of blood is a welcome thing to sara berry - the stuff thick and irony and good. “are you gonna finish that?” because part of her is wondering how it tastes.

     “finally, someone entertaining. for the city that never sleeps everyone i’ve met is like, such a fucking buzzkill!”

     “sounds like a pathetic sob story to me.” she says the words like they don’t really mean anything as she shrugs, a small smile tracing it’s way over her prettily glossed lips as she looks down at her own bloodstained hand. it overlays with the past for a moment. the sound of screams and sirens and sara’s bloody fingers clutching the silver crown. “it’s not worth anything like, literally. it’s worth something in that it looks cool, duh.”

     “did you deserve it?” she asks, head tilting in a truly curious way. dumping a bucket of blood on fucking julie jenkins sounds like it would be fun. fuck her, honestly. sara had worked for years to be prom queen! had campaigned and gotten head cheerleader and dated the fucking quarterback and did all the stupid community service shit she had to. and then julie had to get in that stupid car crash and get all those stupid pity votes. “it’s ruined, like, prettily right now, though. that’s worth something.”

     the things she calls for are more the kinds of figures that dwell in pitch’s domain of black sand and horrific images ( sandy is more candy canes and puppies and ice cream cones ) —but is it really a nightmare if that is what she craves, what sweet dreams are to this child? either way, this blonde is the loudest thing around —a mix of silver tiaras and sparkly dresses with an undertow of blood-drenched ambition— and sandy has always taken to staring at the loudest thing around ( whether that’s on purpose or some uncontrollable reflex, is still to be determined ).

     this guy is staring at her and sara doesn’t really like that. he’s staring at her the way her mom stared at her on prom night, stared at the stained hands and pale blue dress in horror and surprise. like she and dad hadn’t driven it forward ( i know you won’t disappoint me and mom ). sara’s painted lips curls into a scowl and she narrows blue eyes at him. “are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stare at me like some creep?” her high voice is sharpened into a weapon ad she arches a brow at him. weirdo.

     “you look like shit.” sara manages to say this primly, voice pitched high and unconcerned as she stands over this guy. the whole blood-stained white suit deal is pretty interesting. it makes her remember the way crimson bloomed across the guazy material of euince’s pretty pink prom dress as sara slowly but surely hacked her limbs from her body, arm from shoulder and hand from arm and fingers from hand. it’s a pretty color, like a flower blossoming in reverse, blooming from alive to dead. she leans forward and swipes two fingers across his shoulder. they come away sticky and deep-dark red and she grins savagely for a moment. “what did you do? this is a lot of blood.” the impressive remains unspoken as she tilts her head down at him before offering her blood-stained hand. “you’re gonna fuck up your suit even more if you’re sitting there, and it’ll ruin the aesthetic!”

Offended at the insult to his amazing puns, Chat straigtened from the slump he had fallen into just to stare the girl down. “I’ll have you know, I am apawlled at your lack of humor. Sure, make fun of the outfit, but the puns? That is too far.”

     “thinking your idiotic cat puns is just having good taste. or any taste at all.” sara replies, eyes boring into him as she remains just as unimpressed with this weirdo as she had started. who the hell dresses in what looks like fetish wear and runs around the city? one slim hand comes up to swat at the bell hanging around his neck and she lets out a derisive giggle. “your dressing in this getup and assaulting my eyes with it is too far. how about you go back to your dungeon or whatever and stay far away from me?”

Chat dragged his hand down his face in frustration at the girl’s words. “This is paw-sitively the worst situation I could have asked for.”

     sara frowns at him, cocking a hip and rolling her eyes. “and your stupid cat puns are giving me a headache. like, the ears get across the point you’re into pet-play or whatever, you don’t need to keep going.”

“Wh- NO!” Chat denies venhemently. “Are- I- Ugh, just no.”

     “see your mouth is saying no but the like, copious amount of leather, heavy boots, and buckles you’re wearing says yes. so - - - might wanna rethink that getup, ‘kay?”

     “the fuck is this? are you some, like - bdsm enthusiast?” nose wrinkles at his outfit and sara shakes her head. “’cause i’m not into it.”

“My life just happens to be rather exciting. But you wouldn’t know that, as you don’t know me.”

     “mmmm, doesn’t seem very exciting if you rely on exploring to keep busy. isn’t that line like, classic.”