Title: Under My Skin
Author: Blondie
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars and the characters of do not belong to me. I am merely using them and twisting them to provide my own entertainment. Maybe yours too. No infringement is intended so please, dont sue me.
Rating: Anywhere from PG13 to NC17...not sure yet.
Authors Note: I know the Veronica as a journalist angle is kind of played out, but whatever. Im running with it and putting my own spin on it. This will probably be a relatively short fic. A few chapters at most. Im kind of unsure as to where its going to go right now. My style isnt to sit down and plan out a story. I write chapter by chapter and wherever it goes, it goes. Could be sad, could end up being fluff, I couldnt really say. So, lets see where this goes! As a side-note, the switch in tense is on purpose, although I do realize that it is not commonly done and mostly frowned upon. Thats the way it came out and I cant for the life of me change it AND make it sound cohesive.
She thought once that she might like to be a cop, like her father had been all those years ago. It had seemed like she was paying homage to him at the time, and of course the natural assumption. Stick to what you know. Make a living doing something you're good at. Finding answers to questions and solving problems that was what she was good at. Veronica Mars was nothing if not a problem solver.
It wasn't until her sophomore year in college when she was filling out her application to the Academy, under her father's watchful eye, that she realized what he had probably known all along. She would never make it. Not because she wasn't smart enough, or brave enough, or strong enough, or good enough. To Keith Mars, those things were to the contrary. It was more that her methods, the ones that he had taught her, were mostly considered unlawful--though she mostly preferred to think of them as not exactly by the book--without the use of a warrant. They both knew that a piece of paper was something that she was too impatient to wait for.
So the idea was scrapped and she changed her major to Journalism. Though she kept Criminal Justice as her minor. Something to fall back on incase the whole writing thing didn't work out, she'd said. She had made some vague reference to hairdressing and cosmetology that had confused Keith just as much as her references to Unicorns when she'd been in high school. Before he knew it, the conversation was over with a distracted wave of her hand.
Though three years after college, Journalism had worked out after all. She had discovered something while writing for the L.A. Times. Investigative Journalism, it seemed, was a lot like being a P.I.
She started out just like anyone else in the business of telling news. Small. She wrote mostly fluff pieces for nearly six months. It wasn't until Kobe Bryant was accused of rape again that she got to sink her teeth into a real story. Though it had mostly been a media circus, she had written a scathing article on him and gained an ample amount of recognition from it.
She was surprised how quickly she got promoted after that. It wasn't long after the Kobe article before she had her own column and byline in the paper every week. On the day she found out that the paper was giving her a little more than half of page four for her column, along with a plush new office, shed gone home and pumped her fist in the air yelling, "Ownage!"
Something else that surprised her was how quickly she'd gained a reputation in L.A. Veronica-the-Ball-Buster. At least, that's what she thought she'd heard people calling her at the water cooler. And then again at Starbucks as she stood in line behind a short, balding man while he read one of her articles to the mystery person on the other end of his cellphone.
She can't say she minds it much. She's had worse nick names before. The names she'd been called in the years after Lilly's death float to the surface of her mind.
She figures that they're mostly right anyway. Her articles do seem to be busting a lot of balls lately. Everyone from politicians to religious leaders to celebrities to normal, average Joe's have had their balls busted on a routine basis.
She is not surprised that there is a lot of mystique surrounding her and her image. A lot of intrigue. She has heard talk around the water cooler that she has a hard on for celebrity justice. They liken this jones to the Aaron Echolls-Lilly Kane case, and inevitably have to explain it to the intern who is too young to remember the sixteen-year-old girl from Neptune who slept with her boyfriends very famous, very A-List, very married father.
Though she is far from a gossip columnist, they say she goes so hard on celebrity offenders--the more fame they've got, the harsher she is--because Aaron Echolls, much like O.J. Simpson, spent very little time in prison for what he did to her and basically got away with murder. They say that she can't stand the fact that the rich and famous get off lightly with a slap on the wrist simply because they are rich and famous. They say that his acquittal of the Kane girl's murder shriveled her heart like a prune.
She wouldn't entirely disagree.
Jesus Christ, Mars. Her editor barks as he bursts through the door of her corner office, flinging the paper onto her desk. Every damn time!
Did you take your Prozac today, Ed? Veronica asks as she reaches across her desk and grabs her coffee mug. The coffee is slightly cold, but it is something to do. Ed makes her nervous when he yells, though he is always yelling so she isnt quite sure why.
How the hell do you do it Mars? He asks, pacing infront of her desk, his hands locked behind his head in a gesture that reminds her of someone she'd rather like to forget. I told you not to run with this crap. Now I got attorneys breathing down my neck threatening the paper with slander. How the hell do you sneak this shit into my paper?
She shrugs her shoulders as she takes a sip of her stale coffee. I plead the fifth.
Do you have any idea how much shit Im gonna have to muck through in the next few days just to cover your ass? He slams both his hands down on her desk, causing a pen to roll off the edge and onto the floor.
The evidence clearly speaks for itself, Ed. Veronica relaxes into her chair, trying to appear as though shes achieved a Zen-like state. Getting riled up with Ed only serves to get him even more riled up. Which in turn, means more yelling. Which makes her nervous. Its all right there in black and white.
Ed hangs his head and mumbles a curse at her before leaving her office, slamming the door shut behind him. He isnt really that upset, despite the yelling and the throbbing vein in his forehead. He likes his paper to be controversial. If K.Fed gets his boxers in a twist and talks about the alleged cocaine bust on Good Morning America, thats free PR for the paper. Ed wont ever admit that its good PR, but it is exposure none the less, and may prompt one more person to go out and buy or subscribe to the Times because of a hyped up article.
She picks up the paper, a half smile on her face, and reads her article. Somewhere, and she is pretty sure that somewhere is actually the water cooler, she heard people saying she is vain.
She doesnt completely disagree with that either.
Feedback: Leave it because you love it.
Author: Blondie
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars and the characters of do not belong to me. I am merely using them and twisting them to provide my own entertainment. Maybe yours too. No infringement is intended so please, dont sue me.
Rating: Anywhere from PG13 to NC17...not sure yet.
Authors Note: I know the Veronica as a journalist angle is kind of played out, but whatever. Im running with it and putting my own spin on it. This will probably be a relatively short fic. A few chapters at most. Im kind of unsure as to where its going to go right now. My style isnt to sit down and plan out a story. I write chapter by chapter and wherever it goes, it goes. Could be sad, could end up being fluff, I couldnt really say. So, lets see where this goes! As a side-note, the switch in tense is on purpose, although I do realize that it is not commonly done and mostly frowned upon. Thats the way it came out and I cant for the life of me change it AND make it sound cohesive.
Under My Skin
Chapter One
Chapter One
She thought once that she might like to be a cop, like her father had been all those years ago. It had seemed like she was paying homage to him at the time, and of course the natural assumption. Stick to what you know. Make a living doing something you're good at. Finding answers to questions and solving problems that was what she was good at. Veronica Mars was nothing if not a problem solver.
It wasn't until her sophomore year in college when she was filling out her application to the Academy, under her father's watchful eye, that she realized what he had probably known all along. She would never make it. Not because she wasn't smart enough, or brave enough, or strong enough, or good enough. To Keith Mars, those things were to the contrary. It was more that her methods, the ones that he had taught her, were mostly considered unlawful--though she mostly preferred to think of them as not exactly by the book--without the use of a warrant. They both knew that a piece of paper was something that she was too impatient to wait for.
So the idea was scrapped and she changed her major to Journalism. Though she kept Criminal Justice as her minor. Something to fall back on incase the whole writing thing didn't work out, she'd said. She had made some vague reference to hairdressing and cosmetology that had confused Keith just as much as her references to Unicorns when she'd been in high school. Before he knew it, the conversation was over with a distracted wave of her hand.
Though three years after college, Journalism had worked out after all. She had discovered something while writing for the L.A. Times. Investigative Journalism, it seemed, was a lot like being a P.I.
She started out just like anyone else in the business of telling news. Small. She wrote mostly fluff pieces for nearly six months. It wasn't until Kobe Bryant was accused of rape again that she got to sink her teeth into a real story. Though it had mostly been a media circus, she had written a scathing article on him and gained an ample amount of recognition from it.
She was surprised how quickly she got promoted after that. It wasn't long after the Kobe article before she had her own column and byline in the paper every week. On the day she found out that the paper was giving her a little more than half of page four for her column, along with a plush new office, shed gone home and pumped her fist in the air yelling, "Ownage!"
Something else that surprised her was how quickly she'd gained a reputation in L.A. Veronica-the-Ball-Buster. At least, that's what she thought she'd heard people calling her at the water cooler. And then again at Starbucks as she stood in line behind a short, balding man while he read one of her articles to the mystery person on the other end of his cellphone.
She can't say she minds it much. She's had worse nick names before. The names she'd been called in the years after Lilly's death float to the surface of her mind.
She figures that they're mostly right anyway. Her articles do seem to be busting a lot of balls lately. Everyone from politicians to religious leaders to celebrities to normal, average Joe's have had their balls busted on a routine basis.
She is not surprised that there is a lot of mystique surrounding her and her image. A lot of intrigue. She has heard talk around the water cooler that she has a hard on for celebrity justice. They liken this jones to the Aaron Echolls-Lilly Kane case, and inevitably have to explain it to the intern who is too young to remember the sixteen-year-old girl from Neptune who slept with her boyfriends very famous, very A-List, very married father.
Though she is far from a gossip columnist, they say she goes so hard on celebrity offenders--the more fame they've got, the harsher she is--because Aaron Echolls, much like O.J. Simpson, spent very little time in prison for what he did to her and basically got away with murder. They say that she can't stand the fact that the rich and famous get off lightly with a slap on the wrist simply because they are rich and famous. They say that his acquittal of the Kane girl's murder shriveled her heart like a prune.
She wouldn't entirely disagree.
Jesus Christ, Mars. Her editor barks as he bursts through the door of her corner office, flinging the paper onto her desk. Every damn time!
Did you take your Prozac today, Ed? Veronica asks as she reaches across her desk and grabs her coffee mug. The coffee is slightly cold, but it is something to do. Ed makes her nervous when he yells, though he is always yelling so she isnt quite sure why.
How the hell do you do it Mars? He asks, pacing infront of her desk, his hands locked behind his head in a gesture that reminds her of someone she'd rather like to forget. I told you not to run with this crap. Now I got attorneys breathing down my neck threatening the paper with slander. How the hell do you sneak this shit into my paper?
She shrugs her shoulders as she takes a sip of her stale coffee. I plead the fifth.
Do you have any idea how much shit Im gonna have to muck through in the next few days just to cover your ass? He slams both his hands down on her desk, causing a pen to roll off the edge and onto the floor.
The evidence clearly speaks for itself, Ed. Veronica relaxes into her chair, trying to appear as though shes achieved a Zen-like state. Getting riled up with Ed only serves to get him even more riled up. Which in turn, means more yelling. Which makes her nervous. Its all right there in black and white.
Ed hangs his head and mumbles a curse at her before leaving her office, slamming the door shut behind him. He isnt really that upset, despite the yelling and the throbbing vein in his forehead. He likes his paper to be controversial. If K.Fed gets his boxers in a twist and talks about the alleged cocaine bust on Good Morning America, thats free PR for the paper. Ed wont ever admit that its good PR, but it is exposure none the less, and may prompt one more person to go out and buy or subscribe to the Times because of a hyped up article.
She picks up the paper, a half smile on her face, and reads her article. Somewhere, and she is pretty sure that somewhere is actually the water cooler, she heard people saying she is vain.
She doesnt completely disagree with that either.
Feedback: Leave it because you love it.
--------
"Beaver's getting all the lovin', and Dick's flappin' out in the breeze."
Come visit The Veronica Mars Directory!
"Beaver's getting all the lovin', and Dick's flappin' out in the breeze."
Come visit The Veronica Mars Directory!
