Gina DC: Continuity Cop

so there were three wizards, calling me out. they were fucking calling me out, using the Clubhouse as their base of operations, thinking I was the one who'd done all this crap. one of them was stephen of the absolutely fierce sick club list at the comic shop, and one of them was the kid from the gas station with all the goddamn ayn rand, and one of them I knew from CCM's b-cafeteria gaming corner. and none of them had the right idea. I sat stewing in my car, thinking if they just would SHUT UP with the goddamn batsignal and blaring PA for one fucking minute, i would be able to *get out* of my car and start dealing with the fucking wild fae.

but no.

and they didn't even think it was /me/. i'm just a /girl/. granted, a /cool/ girl, that liked comics and games and believed in magic-- the nasty kinds and the pretty kinds alike-- but just a girl. they figured it was someone who lived around here, though. it *could* have been my shadow. i'll admit my shadow was a fair cop, but it wasn't my shadow. i knew who it was, and they weren't gonna get anywhere like this-- the thing doing the shit wasn't human, magic or no magic. (if you can believe in human people being able to do magic, how can you not believe in other people existing that do the magic human people can't manage? asshats.)

they were absolutely fucking terrified when i *did* get out of my car and haul out my crap and slam the door and start stomping across the horseshoe field, face like the apocalypse. they were on their way out by that point, and i bullied them all back in, and they cringed like the little dorks in over their heads that they were, just from me snarling. and i shoved them back in the clubhouse and made them explain just exactly what they thought they were doing, and then told them just exactly what was actually going on--

--and then the cops showed up (finally, jeez) because the neighbors had finally complained about the batsignal shit the asshats were pulling and saying there was a breakin at the clubhouse (which there was), and there was massive scrambling for the trapdoor in the clubhouse floor which led under the stilted part of the building, and thence out into the bushes and to the beach.

i wound up dragging them /all/ under sidhe mhor when the cops came. :P luckily it was the unsmoothed mound of sand on the beach *right there*, prepping for summer. AND NONE OF THEM DESERVED SANCTUARY.

Dreaming of getting to know a young Joe Strummer as played by a young John Cusack, in a huge family of Strummers that were not Mellors, but Strummers - and him having knowledge of his later life, but preferring not to think about it, and me unable to stop from singing along to Death or Glory, among others. And with my army parka with the enormous Clash patch on the back - we got on so well! So well. There were old people in his house, old people who were cranky. My name began with an M, or possibly an A. I was a reporter, but I was a punk, but I was me. We had to sneak around after hours to prevent waking up the old people, and all his younger siblings. He was angry and proud and compassionate, and we rode the Tube all over London, and talked to all the street people.

I hope I dream more.