Hey everyone!

So I was browsing FF, going through a Rob/Rae story binge when I came across nefieslab's proposal series. I remembered a deal I had struck with him about updating this story so he would update his proposal one-shots. I know it's been forever and he's probably not on the site with regularity anymore, however, I felt like I owed it to nefieslab to complete this story. So I guess that means this story is really only alive because of nefieslab, so I dedicate the story to you and our previous deal.

Going through the fic, I wasn't entirely happy with the way it was heading so I've decided to revive the story and edit what I have and then continuing on. I've decided to do a re-write of this story to make it more of my own. The plot will probably still follow that of the film, however, I'm hoping to change the dialogue and the events to reflect the characters better instead of just sticking the characters in the setting of the film. I'm hoping with editing I also won't hate this story so much and will feel like updating it with more regularity.

So, here is the first bit, hope you all enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the film or the Teen Titans

Characters:

Most are self-explanatory so here are the less obvious ones:

Greg-Gizmo

Malcolm-Malchior

Courtney-Blackfire (who has brown hair in the story since I'm envisioning Rachel/Raven's hair to be much like Blackfire's from the series)

Rachel's POV

After a rough morning, I finally arrived to Jump High. I sighed, reminding myself that I was almost done with this place, that I would be leaving it soon as a senior. Four years of this place, however, was just too much. I sighed, best get the day over with. I parked close to the exit of the parking lot as to give me an advantage when leaving at the end of the day. I then, like every other day, had to weave my way through the crowds of myriad of students, all horsing around until class started.

"Oh my gosh! Lets put a poster here!" shrieked Kathrine, the school bimbo. I guess every school has to have at least one...

To say she annoyed me was an understatement. The girl was dumber than a sack of bricks and spent most of her time chairing useless committees (like the prom committee she was currently putting up posters for) and spent the remainder of her time chasing after the hot guys in the school. It was common knowledge the girl was easy, she'd been known to get with anyone remotely attractive, even Freshmen.

"Kitty (as Kathrine came to call herself, and eventually everyone else did too), let's put one here too!" Said one of her friends in the same high-pitched tone.

Ugh what a pathetic event I couldn't help but thinking as I tore down one of the posters that advertised prom and threw it away, ignoring Kitty's feeble protests of 'put that back'. Upon hearing the first morning bell, I decided to head into the double mahogany doors I had come to loathe during my time here and make my way to my first class.

Garfield POV

I sat in the guidance counselor's office so that I could get my schedule. On her desk she had a plaque with her name on it, which happened to be Ms. Perky. She was typing something that was making her smile, so I highly doubted that it was for work. Her cat-eye reddish glasses contrasted with the pale pink suit she wore.

"I'll be right with you," She said but gave no other indication of my presence. I later learned that she was working on a romance novel. That is just sick! Anyway, when she closed her computer, she tried to start up a conversation with me (and failed pretty badly, especially seeing as she was the school's guidance counselor). "My, my nine schools in ten years." She commented while handing me my class schedule.

"Does your father work in the military?" she asked me.

"Yea, he does-"

"Okaaayyy. Well that's enough." She replied, cutting me off, "I'm sure you won't find Jump high any different from your old schools. But, as part of our welcome initiative, you'll meet a student of ours who will show you around and help you settle in to life here at Jump City. Victor Stone is going to meet you outside of this office before the bell rings to explain the rules and show you around."

Clearly not one for conversation, she began to usher me out after a moment of silence between us.

"Hurry up, I have other students to see and a novel to finish. Go, go," She said in a fake, chipper tone.

I started slowly backing out of the room, when I bumped into the coat rack. Smooth I thought before nearly running into this scary looking kid on my way out. He had black hair that came down to his shoulders and he wore a black shirt with baggy jeans.

"Ah, Richard," said Ms. Perky, "making our visits a weekly ritual?"

I didn't stay to find out his response, but instead quickly dashed out of the office.

10 minutes later…

"'Sup man?" asked this tall and very muscle-y African-American guy, "I was assigned to show you around Jump High. My name is Victor Stone, but you can call me Vic or Cy." He seemed really nice.

"Why Cy?" I asked because, the last time I checked, there was no way to get Cy from Victor.

"Well I'm great with computers so my friends call me Cy- short for Cyborg." He added that last part after seeing the look of confusion on my face.

"Ooh," I said, almost in awe, as it all made sense. We walked the halls in silence for a moment before I decided to do what I do best.

"So, dude, Cy, can I tell you a joke?" Not wanting him to reject the offer and return us to the awkward silence, I pressed on before he could answer.

"Ok so there are these 2 muffins in an oven, right?"

"Okay…"mumbled Cy.

"Okay, they're both sitting, just chilling and getting baked. One of them yells 'Jeez its hot in here!' and the other looks over and replies 'Holy Crap, a talking muffin!'"

"Get it?" I asked after he stared at me for a while.

"You need some work," Cy said nicely.

"Well, It has been two days since I told a joke, I'm just a little rusty!" I replied with my 100-watt smile. This made Cy laugh.

"Okay, man, there's not a lot of time to go over this before class, but I'll try to give you the basic breakdown," said Cy, "This school has your average rich snobs, they tend to hang out together and wear expensive clothes. If they don't talk to you first, don't bother man. They'll just ignore you or tease you."

Curious, I asked, "Is this your rule or theirs?"

He shrugged, "Don't know, don't care. I'm not dying to talk to them but feel free to test it out."

"Oh, um, that's okay, I'm good," I stuttered back, hoping I disguised my fear of being noticed by a crowd who would (and often did) pick me as the butt of their taunts.

"These are the studious people," he commented, gesturing to a group of kids doing last minute work for class or reading ahead, "Many of them are also 'coffee people'. Never make any sudden movements around them, they get angry when you accidentally spill coffee on their schoolwork."

"These delusionals are the White rosters. They're Bob Marley fans and they think they're black. They're semi-political but they mostly-"

"Smoke." I finished for him. He nodded and we continued on with the tour.

"These are your future MBAs of our school," he introduced. The group was seated out in the courtyard and all of them had out laptops or graphs and were eagerly conversing about the latest business trends and theories.

A few of them waved at Cy and he responded.

"How do you know them?" I asked since this was the only group that had acknowledged us.

"I used to be one of them," he explained, "Until I took a tech course and found that I loved technology and repair work more. We still talk, but it's been a while. It's not the same, when you're not with them everyday. And our deteriorating friendship has just gotten worse especially now that Greg is one of them."

"Greg?"

"The pint-sized one who's yelling out the choice insults," informed Cy bitterly, "little brat always thought he was better than me, took the fun out of it all."

Sure enough, one of the shortest guys dressed in a full tie and suit was yelling at one of his mates, loudly calling him a 'snot-nosed, barf-brained idiot'.

Before I could make any sympathetic comment, the most beautiful girl in a light blue sundress walked by us to meet her group of friends. Her dress made her long blonde hair stand out more and, from the brief glance I got, I saw the dress also matched the lively blue of her eyes.

"What group is she in?" I asked, practically drooling, not caring if Cy knew I had a crush on her.

"She belongs in the 'never gonna happen' group. Her name is Tara Roth."

"Who are those other girls with her?"

"That's Karen," he stated, pointing, "everyone just calls her Bee, the redhead is Kori and the other girl is Kori's sister, Courtney."

"My heart is ensnared by Tara," I said dramatically.

He rolled his eyes at my antics.

They then began to walk in front of us, talking and chatting, oblivious to Cy and me. They were discussing trends and fashion, most of which went over my head to be honest. They then agreed to go shopping that weekend on Saturday afternoon. I had never wanted to go to the mall so badly in my life.

"Listen forget her," warned Cy, "Her father is strict as hell and it's a well known fact that she's not allowed to date."

"Uh- huh," I replied, not really listening to what he said but instead trying to get one more glance at Tara.

With that, the school bell rang, signaling two minutes to get to class. I sighed, dejectedly, and promised to meet Vic for lunch later that day.

Rachel's POV

I sat in my seat, bored, waiting for class to begin. Just then the obnoxious school bell rang loudly, announcing the start of class.

Our honors English teacher, Mr. Morgan asked us "Okay then, what did everyone think of The Sun also Rises?"

Kitty quickly shot her hand in the air. How she got in this honours English class, I will never know I pondered.

"Yes Ms. Mothella?" asked Mr. Morgan.

"I loved it. He's so romantic!" she said in a sing-song way.

Okay, someone needs to correct her, and apparently it'll have to be me. Again.

"Romantic? Hemmingway? Ugh. He was an abusive alcoholic misogamist who squandered entire life around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers," I commented before cringing. That came out more bitter than I had intended.

In my defence, though, Kitten has that polarising effect on people. Some agree with her and, those that don't, disagree more radically than they would if the conversation was with a normal individual—almost as though disagreeing vehemently with Kitten proves you a smart individual. Or maybe that's just me.

"As opposed to a bitter self-righteous hag who has no friends?" inquired the most annoying popular kid in the class, Roy Harper. He was clad in a fitted burgundy shirt, loose fitting jeans and converses. His red hair was slicked back as usual. This comment caused his dumb ass friends to laugh.

"Pipe down, Harper." Said Mr. Morgan, apparently annoyed that we were fighting in class again.

These volleys of comments were exchanged nearly every class. The one thing Roy and I could agree on was the fact that we disagreed on everything. And that we were both vocal to a fault.

"I guess in this society, being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time," I shot back, causing many people in the class to go "ooo".

"What about Sylvia Plath or Charlotte Brontë or another Strong woman perspective?" I asked.

Yes, I'm well read, so what? It always bothered me that in every English course we only focus on the basic English literature, like Hemmingway and Shakespeare. Sure they have their good qualities, but it's hardly a balanced approach to literature.

"So, did I miss anything?" asked Richard cockily as he stepped into class, extremely late. He wore a somewhat tight, plain black shirt and semi-baggy, dark jeans. He had his usual pair of dark sunglasses and his hair wasn't in its normal ponytail, but instead it was let down. I rolled my eyes at his normal, obnoxious behavior.

"Just the oppressive patriarchal views that dictate our education," I answered bitterly.

"Good, nothing much, then," he replied with a lopsided smile before leaving the classroom again, despite Mr. Morgan's loud protests.

"Hey Mr. Morgan, is there any chance we can get Rachel to take her Midol before she comes to class?" inquired Roy, bringing the teacher's attention back to the class.

I glared at him. Just as I was about to retort, Mr. Morgan finally stepped in, yelling at Roy and I for constantly disrupting class with our trivial arguments.

"Anything else?" I asked rudely. After all, he just insulted me (my arguments are never trivial).

"Yeah. Go to the office," He replied, obviously reigning in a nasty reply.

"What? Mr. Morgan-"

His glare notified me that I had no choice in the matter. Sulkily, I grabbed my things, while pulling my emotions together. I then coolly stood up and, on my way to the exit, hit Roy on the head with my large book in response to his arrogant and triumphant look. I could hear Mr. Morgan continue with his lecture from the hall.

At the office (and where the guidance counsellor's office is)...

At the office, I could hear the guidance counsellor in her office mumbling to herself. Trying to finish her novel, no doubt.

Not bothering to ask permission, after all, we see each other with striking frequency, I entered her cluttered office. Many romance novels decorated her small bookshelf and papers littered her desk. There was one small, overused chair for her guests, which I sat down in, waiting for her to find a pause in her writing to address me.

While waiting for her to take notice of me, I observed the ageing woman. Her bug eyes looked extremely red from staring at the computer screen, her glasses were lopsided and she looked stressed. I almost felt bad about showing up yet again, that is, until she opened her mouth and began to be just a rude and Mr. Morgan had been.

"So I hear you were terrorizing Mr. Morgan's class. Again," She said in a dull tone.

"Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action," I replied in the same monotonous tone.

"The way you express yourself could be," she mumbled, so much for her 'support' and 'guidance', "Malcolm is doing much better now, by the way."

I had forgotten about him, this year had been peaceful without him around. I guess in that instance I did get a little carried away, but he deserved it. I won't get into the details, but he did.

"I still maintain that he hit his face in the wall, breaking his nose, to make me look guilty." Okay, so that wasn't true, but there was no evidence to prove otherwise. Did I mention he deserved it? The bastard.

"The point is, dear," she tried to explain, "people perceive you as somewhat…"

"Tempestuous?' I finished for her. Many people have tried telling me the same thing.

"Bitch would be the colloquial term," she said while frowning, "you might want to work on that."

I hid the frown forming on my lips, I wasn't a bitch, I just didn't tolerate bullshit. I mostly kept to myself, had a few friends, and, all in all, wasn't too bad. So why did everyone think I was such a terrible person?

"As always, thank-you for your excellent guidance," I replied sarcastically while picking up my messenger bag, eager to get out of her office and have time to collect my thoughts. To remind myself that what others thought didn't matter to me, as always.

I smiled, recalling one of the better things about Malcolm. He had a red shirt that read 'Keep Calm and Carry On', and while I hate that British bastard, that slogan has stuck with me since.

"I'll let you get back to your novel," I said on my way out.

Roy Harper POV

After English, I met with my buddies in the courtyard and we began assessing the female population of our school. It's something we do when we're bored, a nice way to pass the time.

"Looking good ladies!" I called out to Tara and her friend Karen as they passed by us. They giggled before continuing on.

"Man, she's out of reach, even for you," My best friend said, "I mean, that's Tara Roth."

"No one is out of my reach," I replied coolly to my friend, and I made sure Tara didn't hear me. I mean I am the most popular guy in school, and I do have all of the girls after me. Plus I am a model, who wouldn't want me?

"Want to put money on that?" asked my friend.

"I don't need money," I snorted angrily (it was true, after all), "This I'm going to do for fun."

What could be better than knocking up one of the last virgins in the school that everyone knows is off-limits?

Garfield POV

"Who's that guy?" I (accidentally) squeaked, pointing to the ginger guy in the wine-coloured shirt. He looked relaxed, at ease in a place he, no doubt, considered to be his kingdom.

"Oh. That's Roy Harper. He's one of the rich snobs," replied Cy, "and a model."

"He's a model?" I asked, laughing extremely hard.

"Yea," said Cy with a mischievous grin on his face, "he does mostly reasonable stuff. But it is rumoured that he has a new brief ad coming out soon."

"Really?" That made me laugh all the more until tears cascaded down my face.

Cy nodded, joining me in laughter.

Then I spotted her. Tara Roth.

"Dude, look at her," I said, pointing to her.

I zoned out pretty badly daydreaming about what it would be like to go out with Tara. We would do everything—the movies, carnivals, late-night diners. Although she doesn't show it, I think she could be a lot of fun. I feel like she would just get me.

At Cy's scowl, I replied, "There's more to her than you think." I was practically whining now, but I didn't care, "I mean look at the way she smiles an-and I bet she has a stunning laugh. You're missing what's there."

"Garfield, no. No. What's there is a little princess wearing a strategically planned outfit to make guys like us," he gestured to themselves, "realize that we can't have her and make guys like Roy realize they want to. You'll never get her. Plus, I mentioned, she's not allowed to date anyway."

"No. No. You're wrong about her, " I tried to tell Cy, though I could tell that he didn't understand.

After being visibly deflated for a few moments, Cy amended, "You think I'm wrong? Alright, she's looking for an Algebra II tutor, grass stain."

Yes! Cy finally caved! Hallelujah! In my head I did a little happy dance and, it wasn't until I heard Cy's booming laugh, that I realised said dance wasn't just in my head. Whatever, I have just been given a rare opportunity, one that I don't intend on squandering.

"Dude! Are you serious? That's perfect!"

"Are you even good at math?" asked Cy in a tone that said that he, in fact, already knew the answer to my question.

"Well, no. But I will be!" I replied with a drunk smile on my face.

Rachel's POV

I was walking to my beat up, read and white, crappy car talking to my best friend, Jinx (her real name is Jessica—I'm the only one who's allowed to call her Jinx without losing a limb). I sighed, noticing Roy's sleek red convertible blocking my car from pulling out of the school parking lot.

Before he could say whatever insult he had planned, I curtly said, sarcastically, "Run along." Thankfully, he drove off without any further issue. I was not in the mood to deal with him today.

Tara POV

"I know you can be overwhelmed and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?" asked my best friend Kori, who moved here from Italy a year ago, and was still learning proper English. Looking at her, I sighed, feeling inadequate. Despite her lack of English, she was still popular. She was tall, so tall she could've been a model, with olive skin and long red hair. Her green eyes were always dancing with joy about some aspect of American culture that she found enjoyable. She often asked questions that, from many, would seem dumb, but from her, appeared naive and cute (at least, according to the long line of guys wanting to date her).

Lost in thought, I forced myself to come back to her question and consider it, after all, it logically made sense. I was about to answer when Roy Harper (yes, that Roy! The most popular guy in school!) stopped his car, offering me and Kori a ride home.

Oh my gosh! The most popular boy in school is taking us home! I shrieked in my head, but on the outside, I managed to still look calm and composed. Kori and I exchanged excited looks, and Kori let out a small squeal of delight before we hopped in.

His car was definitely extremely expensive. Wow! This is so COOL! I thought. "You ladies interested in getting a quick bite to eat first?" he asked. We both nodded, eager to spend more time with this legend.

Rachel POV

"That's a charming new development," said my best friend, Jinx, commenting on my sister going home with Roy.

Her pink streaked brown hair stood out with against her white peasant blouse and her long, purple gypsy skirt. I, personally, wouldn't be caught dead in a dress or skirt. It's funny how opposite we look and yet how similarly opinionated we are. Unlike Jinx, I don't dress up for school. A simple dark tee and jeans have been my school uniform for the past year or so. My purple streaked onyx hair is always a long, tangled mess that I never have the patience to deal with in the morning.

I remember often wondering how the popular kids dealt with having so much hair and making it look pretty. I borrowed my sister's flat iron one day to try and tame my hair, a feat that took almost an hour. After that, I decided, it was best to just roll out of bed an throw it up than to waste all that time.

"It's weird," I replied monotonously to her earlier comment. I started my car and put Evanescence, our favourite band, on my ipod for the drive home.

Just as I was pulling out of the parking lot, I had to come to a sudden halt. Some new kid was trying to ride a moped and failing. I don't need this right now! I just want to get home, is that too much to ask?

To get him out of my way I stuck my head out of my car and yelled "First you move the control in REVERSE and then you drive!"

I resisted the urge to call out a string of curses after the comment. Today just needed to be over. It was an unusually stressful day that reminded me of my weaknesses and, without soccer after school to take my anger and other emotions out on, I needed to get home to meditate with a nice cup of tea. That would calm me and remind me that I don't need to care what these high school cretins think, that many are going to be unsuccessful dropouts that I won't even know exist in 10 years.

Squeezing her hands on the steering wheel until they were white from her grip, she waited for the guy to get out of her way.

Garfield POV

"First you move the control in REVERSE and then you drive!" yelled a terrifying student. She had ebony hair with bits of violet and her eyes were rimmed in dark eyeliner, enhancing the cold glare she threw my way.

What's her problem? I thought, quickly reversing away from her car and stopping sideways in front of parked cars. She then took off to, where I imagine, her home.

"You okay, man? She nearly ran you over!" asked my newest friend, Vic.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered honestly, still shaken by what happened. The girl was unnerving, "Dude, she was creepy."

Vic smiled an I-told-you-so smile, "You just survived an encounter with the Demon." I was confused until, after his dramatic pause, he added, "That's your girlfriend's sister".

"Wait, that's Tara's sister?" I asked in disbelief, not understanding how a family could produce such opposites.

"Yup, the menace herself," he explained. "Can I have my moped back?"

I handed over the keys. Any other day I would have been adamant about riding again, however, the encounter with the demon had scared me. I just wanted to get home. Plus, then, I could get started on doing extra math work so I would be able to take up Tara's offer soon and, hopefully, before someone else did. Still, I waited until Vic had parked his moped so I could say a proper goodbye.

"I got football practice, Grass stain. Catch ya tomorrow?" asked Vic, who had clearly recovered from our minor encounter with it.

"'Course," I replied, "See ya!"

So I kept most of the insults between Rachel and Roy the same as in the film because, quite frankly, I could not come up with better dialogue than the film. Let me know what you think of the edited version so far!

~RR