#markilah

If there was a list of things Mari Ibarra wasn’t supposed to do, “sneak into a college she didn’t attend” would probably be somewhere near the top - right under “trespass on federal property” and “use the Dean’s Wi-Fi to torrent The O.C..”

But the thing about Mari was that she’d never been particularly concerned with rules. Rules were for people with consequences. She was consequence-resistant - a phenomenon that could probably be studied by scientists if she ever sat still long enough to let them.

At seven forty-three in the morning, Wisayok University was half-asleep. The dorm hallways smelled faintly of burnt coffee and industrial disinfectant. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead like they were just as tired as the students. Mari, dragging two suitcases and clutching a Dunkin’ iced coffee the color of old caramel, paused in front of the front desk.

The desk was empty.

No attendant, no clipboard, not even one of those overly peppy resident assistants who normally existed solely to ruin fun.

All that sat on the counter was a flickering monitor and a sticky note in blue gel pen that read, “BACK IN 5 (PROBABLY).”

Mari took a long sip of her coffee and stared at the note, unimpressed. “Yeah,” she muttered, “I’ve been hearing ‘five minutes’ since 1999, and Britney still hasn’t called me back.”

She glanced down the hallway. Empty. A single door slammed somewhere in the distance, followed by muffled swearing and the sound of someone tripping over a backpack.

It was now or never.

Mari adjusted her sunglasses - they were oversized and glittery, even though they didn’t hide much - and rolled her suitcases toward the elevator like she owned the place.

As the doors slid open, she caught sight of her reflection in the dull metal surface. Bedazzled jeans, pink velour jacket that said JUICY across the back, hair just barely brushed. She looked like she’d time-traveled straight out of an MTV music video.

“Okay, reality show confessional,” she whispered to herself as the elevator began to rise. “If I get caught, I’ll just say I’m doing an independent study in Paranormal Sociology. That sounds real, right? Like, that’s a degree somewhere. Probably.”

The elevator dinged. Third floor.

The hallway was quiet - too quiet. She could practically hear the fluorescent lights buzzing. Every door looked the same: beige wood, tiny nameplate, magnetic dry-erase board with “Midterm Hell!” or “Call Mom!” scribbled on it.

Mari stopped in front of one that read A. GREEN.

The door was unlocked.

“God, college security really is worse than concert security,” she murmured, easing it open with her hip.

The room was small but spotless - one bed unmade, sheets in disarray, textbooks stacked on the desk like a miniature fortress. The other side, though, was pristine. Blank bed. Empty dresser. A roommate-shaped void.

Mari’s grin spread like wildfire.

“Well, well, well,” she said, setting her coffee on the nearest surface. “If it isn’t fate.”

She wheeled her suitcases inside and shut the door behind her.

There was a strange sort of calm in the act - the confidence of someone who had absolutely no legal or moral right to be there but carried herself like she was moving into a beach house she’d just inherited.

She popped open the first suitcase. A cascade of clothes spilled out: velour in every color, a suspicious amount of leopard print, at least three shirts featuring rhinestone skulls. From the second suitcase came the essentials - a pink hairdryer, an alarming number of empty lip gloss tubes, and a small stack of Us Weekly magazines held together by a rubber band.

“Home sweet technically-illegal home,” she sighed, plopping onto the bed with a bounce.

Her Dunkin’ cup tipped over, dripping a few sticky drops onto the clean sheets. She winced, dabbed at it with the corner of a magazine, then shrugged. “Adds character.”

The sunlight through the blinds made dust particles glow like glitter. Somewhere down the hall, someone was blasting Evanescence. It was all so college, so chaotic, so deeply mediocre - and Mari loved it.

She set up her Hello Kitty alarm clock on the nightstand, plugged in her phone charger, and stuck a few polaroids to the wall: her and a group of girls posing in front of a gas station; a blurry picture of a concert stage; a close-up selfie with a raccoon she swore was “just chillin’.”

The room was starting to look lived-in - or at least Mari-ed-in.

A knock startled her. She froze mid-pose, one arm halfway to hanging a poster of Hilary Duff.

Then nothing. No follow-up knock. Just silence.

She tiptoed to the peephole and peeked. No one there.

“Ghosts. Cool. Love that for me,” she muttered.

Still, she wasn’t about to leave. The spot was too good. Big window, decent lighting, far enough from the RA’s room that she could get away with murder - not that she would, obviously, but she liked the option.

She flopped back onto the bed and dug through her purse, pulling out her old flip phone. The screen was cracked and the wallpaper was a pixelated picture of Paris Hilton holding a tiny dog.

She scrolled through her contacts until she found the one labeled AKILAH (??) - a girl she’d met once at a coffee shop who’d mentioned living on campus. Mari had somehow convinced herself that counted as an invitation.

She typed a quick text:

hey sooo funny story i might have moved into ur dorm?? dont freak out its totally fine

No immediate reply.

Mari tossed the phone onto the bed and resumed unpacking, humming along to the muffled “Bring Me to Life” drifting through the walls.

Her internal narration kicked back in - she always did that when she was nervous.

Cut to Mari, sitting on the edge of the bed, confessional style.“Do I feel bad about breaking into a dorm? No. Because, spiritually, I belong here. This is my vibe. Also, the front desk was unmanned, which feels like an open invitation. And, okay, maybe I don’t technically pay tuition, but I bring cultural value. Emotional enrichment. Sparkle.”

She nodded to herself, pleased with the justification.

As far as she was concerned, she wasn’t trespassing - she was manifesting housing security.

The longer she stayed in the room, the more she convinced herself it was fine. The air smelled faintly of lavender detergent and coffee. A single hair tie on the desk suggested the roommate - Akilah Green, probably - was tidy but not obsessive.

Mari took another sip of her melted coffee and sighed dramatically. “This is gonna be great. Nothing weird ever happens in college dorms, right?”

Right on cue, the lights flickered.

She stared up at the ceiling, unimpressed. “Okay, that’s fine. Probably just old wiring. Definitely not ghosts. Or vampires. Or werewolves. Or-”

A loud thunk came from the hallway, cutting her off.

Mari blinked, frozen mid-sentence. Then she shrugged and went back to hanging her Mean Girls poster.

“Yep,” she said aloud. “Totally normal campus. Love the vibes.”

By the time she finished unpacking, the room looked like a Lisa Frank starter kit collided with a clearance sale at Claire’s. The air glittered faintly with loose sequins.

She stood in the doorway, hands on hips, admiring her work.

“Perfect,” she said, grinning. “You can’t evict someone if they make it cute.”

And with that, Mari Ibarra - non-student, uninvited guest, and soon-to-be chaos incarnate of Wisayok University - officially moved in.

By the time Akilah Green returned from morning training, the sun had burned through the fog hanging over Wisayok’s east quad. Her shirt clung to her skin, her braid stuck to the back of her neck, and her crossbow - a matte-black, perfectly maintained piece of Guild tech - hung lazily over her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

Ash padded beside her, nails clicking against the linoleum floor. His breath puffed rhythmically, calm and even. He was far too dignified for a dorm setting - the kind of dog that looked like he should be guarding ancient tombs instead of watching freshmen eat instant ramen.

They’d been up since dawn, running the obstacle course behind the gym. She liked the quiet that came before sunrise - no whispers of vampires in the walls, no reminders of the Guild’s latest directive. Just focus, breath, and movement.

That peace lasted exactly four minutes and twenty-three seconds after she opened her dorm door.

She froze in the doorway.

Her room - her clean, organized, normal dorm room - had exploded. Glitter was everywhere. Sequins shimmered on the floor like spilled fairy dust. On her neatly made bed sat a half-unpacked suitcase, a Dunkin’ cup, and a Mean Girls poster taped to the wall at a crooked angle.

And in the middle of it all was a girl.

Mari Ibarra, sitting cross-legged on the floor like she was hosting a craft circle from hell, hot-gluing rhinestones onto what appeared to be Ash’s spare dog hoodie.

The glue gun cord stretched precariously across the carpet. A magazine open to a page about “Celebs Who Secretly Dated Vampires!” sat nearby. Mari looked up and beamed as though this situation - the breaking and entering, the casual glitter infestation, the defacement of a trained hunter’s tactical companion’s wardrobe - were entirely normal.

“Don’t freak out,” she said brightly, “but your dog’s an icon now.”

Akilah blinked.

Ash blinked.

The silence between them was long enough that somewhere down the hall, a student sneezed twice.

“You broke into my room,” Akilah said flatly.

Mari tilted her head. “Moved in is such a negative term.”

Ash, standing by Akilah’s side, looked directly at his owner - a look that could only be translated as I did not consent to this fashion crime.

The rhinestones on the hoodie sparkled mockingly.

Akilah’s voice dropped into that dangerous register reserved for malfunctioning crossbows and freshmen who aimed stakes backward. “That is my bed. My wall. My dog.”

Mari, unbothered, gestured with her glue gun like a talk show host presenting a giveaway. “Correction - your dog is now a star. Do you see this sparkle placement? It’s couture. I’m thinking Juicy Couture for canines. He loves it.”

Ash did not look like he loved it.

Akilah stepped inside slowly, setting her crossbow down on the desk with practiced precision. The muscles in her jaw flexed. “You know breaking into student housing is a crime, right?”

Mari waved that off. “Crime, trespassing - semantics. I’m bringing positive energy into this space.”

“Positive energy doesn’t pay tuition.”

“Neither do I!” Mari chirped. “It’s kind of my thing.”

Akilah exhaled through her nose. Deeply. “So you admit you don’t go here.”

Mari froze for the briefest moment, eyes darting to the floor. Then, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, she straightened and said with absolute confidence, “Technically, I’m auditing the human experience.”

Akilah stared at her, deadpan.

Mari smiled wider. “It’s like anthropology, but free.”

Ash gave a low chuff, sitting down beside Akilah with the weary posture of someone realizing he was now emotionally responsible for both of them.

Akilah rubbed her temple. “You can’t just move into a dorm. Someone lives here.”

“Yeah, you!” Mari said cheerfully. “Which is perfect because I’m clean, quiet, and bring strong decorative instincts to the household dynamic.”

“You are none of those things.”

Mari looked mildly offended. “I’m quiet sometimes. Like when I’m asleep. Or watching America’s Next Top Model.”

Akilah’s sigh was heavy enough to qualify as a prayer. She glanced around at the room - her half still mercifully untouched, Mari’s side already resembling a Lisa Frank-sponsored war zone.

Ash leaned forward to sniff at the glue gun. Akilah gently redirected him with a click of her tongue.

Mari followed his movement fondly. “He’s so majestic. Like a furry tank.”

“He’s trained to track and detain bloodsuckers.”

Mari paused mid-glue. “...like a goth bouncer?”

Akilah pinched the bridge of her nose. “Like vampires.”

Mari’s expression lit up. “Oh my God, there are actually vampires here?!”

The words hung in the air, half-accusation, half-delight.

Akilah froze. “...No.”

Mari narrowed her eyes. “That was a very specific no.”

“It was a normal no.”

“Sounded like a cover-up no.”

“Please stop talking.”

Mari pressed her lips together like she was physically restraining more questions, which for her was a small miracle. She shifted to hold up the hoodie instead, changing the subject. “Okay but seriously, look at this - I spelled his name in rhinestones across the back. A–S–H. It’s giving pop star bodyguard.”

Ash sighed. Audibly.

Akilah stared at the sparkling monstrosity. “You used hot glue on polyester.”

“Yeah, the strong bond kind! It’ll never come off.”

“That’s the problem.”

They stared at each other for a beat - Akilah’s deadpan patience vs. Mari’s relentless optimism. Then Mari cracked first, breaking into a grin that was half mischief, half apology.

“Okay, okay, fine, I get it - I maybe overstepped.” She gestured vaguely at the whole room. “But to be fair, the door was unlocked, and I feel like that’s on you. Legally.”

Akilah opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. She hated that Mari technically wasn’t wrong.

“Just…” Akilah began, running a hand down her face. “Don’t touch my side of the room. Don’t touch my weapons. Don’t touch Ash.”

Mari saluted with the glue gun. “Roger that, Roomie.”

“Not your roommate.”

Mari grinned wider. “That’s what you think.”

Ash gave a single bark, sharp and judgmental, like a punchline.

Akilah pointed at him. “See? Even he agrees.”

Mari, unfazed, reached out to boop the dog on the nose. “You’re just saying that because you haven’t seen the matching hat yet.”

Akilah’s expression went flat. “There’s a hat?”

Mari’s eyes darted toward the bed.

Akilah followed her gaze.

The hat in question sat there innocently - a rhinestoned cowboy hat sized perfectly for a large dog.

Akilah closed her eyes. “I’m going to shower. When I come back, I want my dog out of that hoodie, that hat gone, and you-”

“Moved in even more?” Mari offered.

“-not arrested. Which is currently a maybe.”

As Akilah retreated toward the bathroom, Ash stayed put, torn between loyalty and curiosity. Mari held the hoodie up in front of him again.

“Listen, buddy,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I get that you have like, hunter duties or whatever. But I’m telling you - this outfit? You’re gonna slay. Literally. Probably.”

Ash blinked slowly, unimpressed.

Mari patted his head. “That’s fine, play hard to get. The camera loves a challenge.”

From the bathroom, Akilah’s voice echoed faintly: “If you’re taking pictures of my dog again, I swear-”

Mari flopped onto her bed, grinning like the chaos gremlin she was. “Relax!” she called back. “It’s not like I’m posting them anywhere public.”

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She checked it. The screen showed an unsent draft of a campus gossip forum post:

spotted: new girl moves into A. Green’s dorm uninvited. is she a transfer? a ghost? or both?? 👀 stay tuned for pics

She smirked. “Yet.”

Ash groaned.

And that was how Akilah Green, serious hunter and semi-functioning adult, ended up sharing a dorm with Mari Ibarra - professional trespasser, part-time menace, and full-time bringer of sparkly chaos.

By mid-afternoon, Akilah was gone - summoned by a terse text from the Guild about “mandatory operational briefings.”

She’d left in uniform: black tactical jacket, regulation boots, hair pulled into a no-nonsense braid that said I take notes and kill monsters before lunch.Ash went with her, trotting beside her with the solemn energy of someone clocking in for his second job.

That left Mari alone in the dorm.

Alone with Akilah’s books.

And her files.

And the absolutely irresistible mystery of whatever the Guild kept so tightly zipped.

Mari sat on her bed, pretending to watch a rerun of The OC on her laptop. The sound was muted, but she kept glancing at Akilah’s desk like it might whisper secrets.

Ten minutes later, curiosity won.

She slid into Akilah’s desk chair, spinning once for courage. The surface was immaculate - pens lined in military precision, a binder labeled Field Procedures: Year 1 Recruit.Next to it sat a small stack of Guild manuals, the kind printed on thin paper and bound in humorless black.

Mari flipped one open.

LEVEL 2 PURIFICATION PROTOCOL

She blinked. “Sounds like hazing but with more silver.”

She kept reading, mouthing the words. ‘Submersion of contaminated limb,’ ‘administer prayer under supervision,’ ‘avoid emotional attachment to target.’

“Ew,” she muttered. “They really put that last one in writing? HR’s asleep at the wheel.”

A loose folder caught her eye. It was older, its corners soft with wear.

Typed label: SUBSPECIES IDENTIFICATION: VAMPIRIC TYPES (CAMPUS LIST 2003–2004)

Mari froze halfway through pulling it out. Her gossip-trained brain lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Campus list,” she whispered. “You have lists of vampires here?!”

She opened it carefully, like it might bite.

Inside were pages of neat tables - names, photos, notes scribbled in the margins. Each entry read like a grim yearbook:

ANDERSON, Caleb - Level 1 Feeding Risk. Monitor Dormitory B.MALHOTRA, Priya - Guild approved truce subject. No night classes.MATTHEWS, L. - Undetermined Status.

Mari’s eyebrows shot up. “Undetermined? That’s not a good SAT word.”

She circled the line in pink gel pen she’d fished from her bag and added a note in loopy handwriting:

Possible gossip goldmine 💋

Then she grinned at the printer sitting on the dresser - a chunky beige dinosaur that took five minutes to warm up.

Two minutes later, it was spitting out grainy photocopies of the vampire list.

Mari fanned the pages, admiring her handiwork. “For journalistic integrity,” she told herself. “Also, backup in case my dorm-mate kills me.”

The door clicked.

Mari nearly swallowed her pen. She shoved the files back into the folder, flipped it upside-down, and sprawled across her bed like she’d been there all along.

The printer whirred its final dying beep at the exact moment Akilah opened the door.

Akilah stepped in, exhausted but sharp-eyed. She set her crossbow against the wall, dropped Ash’s leash on the hook, and stared directly at Mari.

Mari smiled too quickly. “Hey, roomie! I was just… studying!”

“Studying what?”

Mari hesitated. “…sociology?”

Akilah’s gaze slid to the printer. One eyebrow lifted. “My manual’s still warm.”

Mari laughed nervously. “That’s wild. Maybe the dorm ghosts were doing paperwork.”

Akilah crossed her arms. “You touched my files, didn’t you?”

Mari’s mouth opened, then closed. “Define ‘touch.’”

Ash padded to his bed, clearly done with both of them.

Akilah leaned against the desk. “Mari, those are classified.”

“Okay, but like-‘classified’ in a ‘national security’ way, or in a ‘you just don’t want me to see your handwriting’ way?”

“In the I’m legally obligated to not tell you who’s undead way.”

Mari nodded gravely. “Right, right, sure. Totally respect that.”

Beat.

Akilah waited.

Mari cracked. “I might’ve skimmed.”

Akilah’s sigh could’ve powered a small wind turbine. “Of course you did.”

Mari brightened, trying to pivot. “It’s really interesting, though! Like, you guys have literal categories for vampires. Do you have trading cards too? Collect all eight?”

“Mari.”

“Because if you do, I want the shiny holographic one.”

Akilah pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is not a game. Those files are dangerous if they get out.”

“Right. Totally. I mean, who would I even tell? It’s not like I run a gossip blog.”

Ash gave her a withering look.

Mari coughed. “…Anymore.”

Akilah eyed her suspiciously, then shook her head and dropped her gear bag on the floor. The exhaustion seeped through her voice. “The Guild’s on edge. Someone’s been breaking the treaty lines again. Just-don’t make yourself a target.”

Mari tried for casual. “Define ‘target.’”

Akilah gave her a flat stare.

Mari smiled sheepishly. “Got it. No photocopying, no poking vampires, no dying.”

Akilah didn’t respond. She sat on the bed, rubbing the back of her neck, lost in thought.

For the first time since Mari had met her, she looked… worried.

Mari noticed, but didn’t comment. Instead, she tucked the copied pages into the bottom of her drawer, under a pile of glitter nail polish and gum wrappers.

The printer light blinked lazily, like an afterthought.

Outside, the campus hummed - too quiet, too normal, the kind of silence that comes right before something cracks.

Mari chewed her straw and thought, If the Guild has a list, that means the monsters have one too.

She smiled faintly. “Guess I’d better look good on paper.”

The sun bled slow and syrupy across Wisayok’s quad, glazing the Gothic rooftops in honey and shadow.

It was that golden hour where everything looked beautiful - even the cracked cobblestones, even the ominous gargoyles that probably weren’t just gargoyles.

Students drifted between buildings, backpacks slung low, chatter echoing off the old stone walls. The air smelled like wet leaves and burnt coffee. Somewhere, a saxophone player practiced the same wrong note over and over again.

Mari trailed after Akilah and Ash like an uninvited tour guide.

She had a notebook in one hand, her pink flip phone in the other, and the kind of overconfidence only possessed by people who’d never faced real consequences.

“For the record,” she said, “I’m not following you. I’m conducting investigative journalism.”

Akilah didn’t even look back. “You’re walking behind me with a camera.”

“It’s called documentary filmmaking,” Mari corrected, snapping a blurry photo of the sunset. “Working title: Hot Girls and Holy Water.”

Ash’s ears flicked backward, unimpressed.

They passed a group of undergrads sprawled on the lawn, drinking out of thermoses that absolutely did not contain tea. The whole campus had that half-feral, end-of-day energy - laughter too loud, shadows too long.

Akilah’s crossbow hung at her side, casual but ready. She’d changed out of her morning training gear into jeans and a Guild-issued jacket, which somehow made her look more like a threat.

“Seriously,” she said, scanning the tree line, “go back to the dorm, Mari. This isn’t-”

“A place for civilians?” Mari interrupted. “Cool. I’m an embedded reporter.”

Akilah shot her a look sharp enough to peel paint.

Mari, unbothered, snapped another photo. “You have to admit, though - the lighting? Kind of vampire aesthetic.”

She gestured at the way the light caught the cathedral spires, turning them molten at the edges. “Like, if one showed up right now, I’d at least get a good shot for the thumbnail.”

Ash stopped walking.

His fur rose almost imperceptibly, tail lowering, muscles tightening. His nose twitched once, twice.

Akilah froze instantly - body language shifting from exasperation to alertness. “Ash?”

Mari kept filming. “Oh my God, he totally does the pointing thing! You should get him a little Sherlock hat-”

“Quiet,” Akilah hissed.

That one word carried enough command to still the air.

Mari blinked, the humor catching in her throat. “Oh.”

Ash’s ears locked forward, eyes fixed on the treeline that framed the quad’s north edge. The branches there swayed in a way that didn’t match the wind.

Something was moving - fast.

Akilah lifted the crossbow, her whole posture coiling into readiness. Mari instinctively crouched, not because she knew what to do but because it seemed like the cinematic thing to do.

“Uh, just confirming,” Mari whispered, “this isn’t like… a deer, right?”

“Stay down.”

Mari’s heart thudded against her ribs. For a second, the sunset looked wrong - the shadows too deep, the gold light flickering like candle flame.

Then the movement burst into view - a blur of motion, dark hair, long limbs-

Mari screamed. Akilah nearly fired.

The blur stumbled into the open, panting, clutching a water bottle like it was holy relic.

Van.

Just… Van. In full track gear, earbuds dangling, face flushed with the effort of running laps she clearly didn’t want to be running.

She looked up, eyes wide at the crossbow aimed squarely at her.

“Uh,” Van said, catching her breath. “Evening?”

Akilah exhaled hard, lowering her weapon. “Jesus Christ, Van.”

Mari straightened up, brushing grass off her jeans. “Okay, but if she’s not undead, she’s definitely underfed.”

Van blinked. “Excuse me?”

Akilah shot Mari a look that could have stopped a heartbeat. “Not. Helping.”

Mari held up her hands. “I’m just saying, hydration is key.”

Van gave a bewildered little wave and jogged off again, muttering something about hunter overkill and campus psychopaths.

Akilah watched her go, still tense. “She’s not supposed to be out here after curfew.”

Mari frowned. “Curfew? I thought that was, like, metaphorical.”

“It’s Guild policy. We keep students inside after dusk for a reason.”

Mari tilted her head, eyes scanning the treeline where Van had come from. “So… there is something out here.”

Akilah didn’t answer right away. She just adjusted her crossbow strap and started walking again, slower now, eyes on the shadows.

Mari followed, a few paces behind. The humor had cooled, replaced by something she didn’t want to name.

For a fleeting moment, the golden light dimmed - replaced by the purplish tint of real night setting in.

The campus, so bright and lively minutes ago, seemed to hold its breath.

Somewhere in the trees, something moved again. Not Van this time. Too smooth. Too deliberate.

Ash gave a low growl.

Mari looked around, half-expecting Akilah to crack a joke, to break the tension.

But she didn’t.

And that silence - that real silence - made the back of Mari’s neck prickle.

Wisayok, she realized, wasn’t just a university with weird rumors and bad lighting.

It was a place built on a fault line.

She raised her flip phone again, but her hand trembled slightly. “Okay,” she whispered to herself. “If I die, someone better use this footage.”

The clock on the dorm wall read 11:42 p.m., though time had stopped making sense hours ago. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly, the kind of background noise that made the quiet feel louder. Somewhere outside, a car alarm hiccuped into the night, then gave up.

Inside the cramped dorm room, chaos bloomed in pastel.

Mari sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a battlefield of rhinestones, hot glue sticks, and the unmistakable shimmer of a hot-pink hoodie that read JUICY across the back in curly, glittering font. Ash - Akilah’s massive German shepherd and reluctant participant - sat in front of her like a hostage, his tail thumping once every minute as if to register minimal protest.

“Hold still,” Mari said, squinting as she applied another rhinestone to the ‘Y’. “Beauty is pain.”

Ash sighed - or maybe that was a growl muffled by dignity. His patience, much like Akilah’s, was not infinite.

“There,” Mari whispered, pulling back with satisfaction. “Perfection. Wisayok’s next top model.”

She angled her flip phone, snapped a picture, then another with flash on. The flash reflected off Ash’s eyes, making him look faintly demonic. Mari giggled. “Okay, maybe not that one. You look possessed. But like - fashionably possessed.”

She took a sip of her lukewarm Dunkin’ coffee, surveyed her masterpiece, and felt the thrill of creation. Her dorm-turned-illegal-residency was now a craft studio, a gossip headquarters, and, apparently, a pet fashion atelier.

The door handle rattled.

Ash’s ears perked.

Mari froze mid-glue. “Oh, that’s my cue,” she whispered, scrambling to hide the hot glue gun under a pile of Seventeen magazines.

The door opened, and Akilah stepped in - exhausted, sweat-damp, still in her training jacket, hair tied back in a messy bun that had clearly survived combat. Her crossbow leaned against her shoulder like a second limb.

She stopped dead in the doorway.

Mari smiled brightly, holding up Ash’s paw like a proud stage mom. “Surprise! He’s an icon now! I finished his hoodie!”

Ash turned his head toward Akilah, expression unreadable but clearly apologetic.

Akilah set the crossbow down with deliberate calm. “You rhinestoned my dog.”

“It’s protective,” Mari said quickly, waving her hands as if that explained anything. “Sparkles ward off evil! Haven’t you seen Practical Magic?”

Akilah stared at her. “He’s not a talisman. He’s a German shepherd.”

Mari, undeterred, picked up her flip phone and showed Akilah the photo. “But look! He’s serving mystical realness. It’s giving ‘holy guardian, but make it couture.’”

Ash, for his part, seemed to sigh deeply - the existential weight of doghood pressing heavily upon him.

Akilah leaned against the doorframe, one hand over her face. “One more rhinestone on my dog and you’re the one getting staked.”

Mari grinned. “Kinky.”

Akilah’s hand dropped slowly. Her glare could have vaporized stone.

“I mean,” Mari said quickly, “metaphorically!”

For a long moment, neither spoke. The room was filled only by the faint hum of the vending machine out in the hall and the subtle rustle of Ash trying not to move too much in his sequined shame.

Then Akilah exhaled - a long, tired breath that seemed to deflate her entirely. She crossed the room, plopped down beside Mari on the floor, and pulled her knees up. “You’re insane,” she muttered.

Mari offered her a Dunkin’ cup. “I know. But I make good coffee.”

Akilah took it, hesitated, then sipped. “This is cold.”

“It’s iced,” Mari corrected.

“It’s October.”

“Seasonal contrast,” Mari said, leaning back against the bed. “You’re welcome.”

They sat like that for a moment - an exhausted hunter and an illegally squatting chaos gremlin - sharing bad coffee and worse life choices while Ash stared stoically into the middle distance.

Mari watched Akilah out of the corner of her eye. There was something about her posture - the way she didn’t quite relax even when sitting, the faint tremor of constant alertness. Most hunters wore that tension like armor. Mari wondered if Akilah even knew she was doing it.

“You work too much,” Mari said softly.

Akilah glanced over, caught off guard. “Comes with the job.”

“Still. You could, I don’t know, hang out. Get a hobby. Knit. Start a podcast.”

Akilah gave a humorless laugh. “Pretty sure the Guild frowns on hobbies.”

“That’s tragic,” Mari said. “You’ve got main-character energy, but no leisure time.”

Akilah shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” Mari said proudly. “That’s my charm.”

Ash rested his head on Akilah’s lap, still clad in rhinestones, his tail thumping once. She scratched behind his ear, her eyes softening in a way that Mari almost missed.

For the first time since she’d barged into this dorm, Mari didn’t feel like an intruder. She felt like… furniture that had accidentally become part of the room’s decor.

Akilah leaned her head back against the bed frame, eyes half-closed. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to throw you out.”

Mari smiled, quiet for once. “You weren’t gonna anyway.”

“Don’t push it.”

Mari just reached out and adjusted one last rhinestone on Ash’s collar. “See? Ward against evil.”

Akilah didn’t answer. She just sat there, too weary to argue, sipping her iced coffee and pretending not to notice that for the first time in a long time, the room didn’t feel empty.

Ash’s tail thumped again - slow, steady - a metronome for the fragile peace settling between them.

Mari picked up her phone and whispered, “Scene title: Ash Wore Juicy Couture.”

Akilah cracked one eye open. “If you post that anywhere, you’re dead.”

“Noted,” Mari said, typing it anyway.

And just like that - in a room too small, too fluorescent, and far too ridiculous - the foundation of an unlikely friendship quietly set itself in rhinestone and coffee stains.

It was sometime after midnight, though Mari’s definition of “night” had blurred into “any time the world gets quiet enough to be bored.” The dorm was bathed in the soft amber glow of a single desk lamp. Outside, the wind rattled the windowpane, carrying faint laughter from the quad - a few drunk students, probably human, though these days Mari wasn’t willing to bet on anything.

Ash snored at the foot of her bed, a heavy, rhythmic sound that somehow managed to be both comforting and judgmental. His rhinestoned hoodie hung from the chair nearby, glitter catching the lamplight like tiny galaxies. Akilah had gone to bed hours ago, her door closed, her sleep undoubtedly fitful. Hunters didn’t rest easy - Mari had figured that out fast.

She cracked open her prized possession: a battered pink binder covered in stickers and magazine clippings, stuffed with printed-out LiveJournal posts, gossip scraps, and half-legible notes. She called it her blog, though it was really more scrapbook than web presence - a paper trail of chaos.

She clicked her cheap ballpoint pen, crossed one leg over the other, and began writing in loopy, glitter-ink cursive:

Mari’s Late-Night Thoughts, Vol. 18Wisayok University - where the coffee’s bad, the monsters are worse, and somehow I still don’t have a student ID.

Entry #1:Pretty sure half the cafeteria is vegan by necessity, not choice.

Like, sure, Jan, you “don’t eat meat.” But maybe it’s because “meat” screams when you bite it.

Entry #2:Akilah said the Guild’s getting new recruits next week.

Translation: fresh blood.

(And not the vampire kind… hopefully.)

If they’re cute, I’ll consider re-enrolling.

Assuming anyone ever notices I’m not technically enrolled to begin with.

Entry #3:Saw Natalie Scatorccio in the quad today. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a year, was smoking like it was a coping mechanism (which… mood), and had the kind of thousand-yard stare that says “I’ve seen things.”

Kinda hot though.

I’m starting to understand why chaos is attractive.

Entry #4:Someone told me the Taxidermy Club meets on Wednesdays in the Bio Building basement.

Someone else told me the Taxidermy Club doesn’t exist.

Both sound equally true.

If it’s a cover for vampire meetings, I want in. I bring snacks and social anxiety.

Entry #5:Ash barked at the vending machine again. I think he sees ghosts. Or maybe it’s just haunted by the ghost of that expired Pop-Tart I ate last week.

She paused, tapping the pen against her lip. The sound of the radiator filled the room in a soft hum. Her eyes flicked to Akilah’s closed door.

The hunter slept light, probably dreaming about duty or monsters or whatever the Guild drilled into their heads. Mari couldn’t decide if she pitied her or admired her. Maybe both.

She leaned back, pen scratching across the page again.

Entry #6:If I had a dollar for every time someone said “Don’t get involved,” I’d have enough to pay tuition.

If I had a dollar for every time I ignored that advice, I’d probably still be broke.

But at least I’d be entertained.

She smiled to herself, a quiet little thing. The world at Wisayok was absurd - a strange, stitched-together ecosystem where vampires crammed for midterms, hunters took ethics classes, and she, a completely unqualified outsider, lived rent-free in the middle of it all.

She looked down at Ash, who had rolled onto his back in his sleep, paws twitching as if chasing spectral squirrels. “You get it, right?” she whispered. “This place is ridiculous.”

Ash snorted softly in agreement.

She capped her pen, leaned back, and grinned at her work. The lamplight flickered once, just briefly - the kind of flicker that might’ve been a power surge, or something stranger watching from the dark.

Mari didn’t notice.

She was too busy stapling her latest post into the binder, humming under her breath, perfectly content in her own little world - a world that had no idea how close she was to stumbling headfirst into something far bigger, far bloodier, and far less forgiving than campus gossip.

Outside, the wind picked up, carrying with it the faint sound of laughter. Or maybe it wasn’t laughter at all.

Mari didn’t look up.